妈妈的小甜饼

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asisatperchedinthesecond-floorwindowofourbrickschoolhousethatafternoon,myheartbegantosinkfurtherwitheachpassingcar.thiswasadayi'dlookedforwardtoforweeks:misspace'sfourth-grade,end-of-the-yearparty.misspacehadkeptarunningcountdownontheblackboardallthatweek,andourclassofnine-year-oldshadborderedoninsurrectionbythetimethemuch-anticipated"partyfriday"hadarrived.

ihadhappilyvolunteeredmymotherwhenmisspacerequestedcookievolunteers.mom'schocolatechipsreignedsupremeonourblock,andiknewthey'dbeahitwithmyclassmates.buttwoo'clockpassed,andtherewasnosignofher.mostoftheothermothershadalreadyeandgone,droppingofftheirofferingsofpunchandcrackers,chips,cupcakesandbrownies.mymotherwasmissinginaction.

"don'tworry,robbie,she'llbealongsoon,"misspacesaidasigazedforlornlydownatthestreet.ilookedatthewallclockjustintimetoseeitsblackminutehandshifttohalf-past.

aroundme,thenoisypartyragedon,butiwouldn'tbudgefrommywindowwatchpost.misspacedidherbesttocoaxmeaway,butistayedout,holdingouthopethatthefamiliarfamilycarwouldroundthecorner,carryingmyrightfullyembarrassedmotherwithatinofherfamouscookiestuckedunderherarm.

thethreeo'clockbellsoonjoltedmefrommythoughtsandidejectedlygrabbedmybookbagfrommydeskandshuffledoutthedoorforhome.

onthefour-blockwalktoourhouse,iplottedmyrevenge.iwouldslamthefrontdooruponentering,refusetoreturnherhugwhensherushedovertome,andvownevertospeaktoheragain.

thehousewasemptywheniarrivedandilookedforanoteontherefrigeratorthatmightexplainmymother'sabsence,butfoundnone.mychinquiveredwithamixtureofheartbreakandrage.forthefirsttimeinmylife,mymotherhadletmedown.

iwaslyingface-downonmybedupstairswheniheardherethroughthefrontdoor.

"robbie,"shecalledoutabiturgently."whereareyou?"

icouldthenhearherdartingfranticallyfromroomtoroom,wonderingwhereicouldbe.iremainedsilent.inamoment,shemountedthesteps—thesoundsofherfootstepsquickeningassheascendedthestaircase.

whensheenteredmyroomandsatbesidemeonmybed,ididn'tmovebutinsteadstaredblanklyintomypillowrefusingtoacknowledgeherpresence.

"i'msosorry,honey,"shesaid."ijustfot.igotbusyandfot—plainandsimple."

istilldidn'tmove."don'tfiveher,"itoldmyself."shehumiliatedyou.shefotyou.makeherpay."

thenmymotherdidsomethingpletelyunexpected.shebegantolaugh.icouldfeelhershudderasthelaughtershookher.itbeganquietlyatfirstandthenincreasedinitsvelocityandvolume.

iwasincredulous.howcouldshelaughatatimelikethis?irolledoverandfacedher,readytoletherseetherageanddisappointmentinmyeyes.

butmymotherwasn'tlaughingatall.shewascrying."i'msosorry,"shesobbedsoftly."iletyoudown.iletmylittleboydown."

shesankdownonthebedandbegantoweeplikealittlegirl.iwasdumbstruck.ihadneverseenmymothercry.tomyunderstanding,mothersweren'tsupposedto.iwonderedifthiswashowilookedtoherwhenicried.

idesperatelytriedtorecallherownsoothingwordsfromtimespastwheni'dskinnedkneesorstubbedtoes,timeswhensheknewjusttherightthingtosay.butinthatmomentoftearfulplight,wordsofprofundityabandonedmelikeaworn-outshoe.

"it'sokay,mom,"istammeredasireachedoutandgentlystrokedherhair."wedidn'tevenneedthosecookies.therewasplentyofstufftoeat.don'tcry.it'sallright.really.'

mywords,asinadequateastheysoundedtome,promptedmymothertositup.shewipedhereyes,andaslightsmilebegantocreasehertear-stainedcheeks.ismiledbackawkwardly,andshepulledmetoher.

wedidn'tsayanotherword.wejustheldeachotherinalong,silentembrace.whenwecametothepointwhereiwouldusuallypullaway,idecidedthat,thistime,icouldholdon,perhaps,justalittlebitlonger.