To not miss the opportunity that has come their way, a mother and her son hurry to buy a gift for the guy’s birthday. On the way, they hear the news about a new resident moving to the city. Having no goals or plans, they accidentally become part of this move. A new turn in the girl’s personal life marks the beginning of her grand self‑realization. And everything unfolds within a cozy family circle.
Moonlight gently diffuses in a quiet room. Something rustles in the corner of the favorite room. He never did figure out what was in the gloom—a wild imagination or a genuinely fierce monster that wanted to eat him while the whole town slept, and no one would come to the rescue. Sleep finally defeats the fabricated fears.
In the morning, Johnny wakes up calm and relaxed. No trace of the monsters seen in the dark remains in his childhood memory. The room’s windows face southeast, so the sun rises a little later than in other rooms. A pleasant chance to sleep in a little longer.
With the first rays of the morning sun, Mary, Johnny’s mother, enters the room to wake him. Not for school. Today, the reason for getting up is completely different. A new model of bicycle has arrived at the children’s toy store downtown. Johnny has been dreaming of it for two and a half months. And his birthday is still more than four months away. They decided not to risk it and to buy the much-desired gift now. Later, it might not be available in stores across the city and state, and then they’d have to search across the entire country. The popular model instantly goes to houses. The main thing is to be quick.
He lies in the soft, warm bed. A pleasant fog envelops everything in his head and before his eyes. It’s time to get up, or his birthday gift will get away from him. He opens his eyes and swings his legs off the bed onto the soft, though short-piled, beige rug. He carefully inspects the room with a homeowner’s gaze.
The desk lamp is on the writing table. The globe is here, too. Toys he hasn’t played with in ages sit in a box. The telescope looks into space. The colorful superhero posters hang correctly. Everything is in its place. He puts on his worn dark-blue jeans and a red hoodie with a painted blue rugby helmet and the local team’s name in gold. Now he can go.
Staying true to his daily tradition, the morning begins in the spacious and bright bathroom. It’s not just the sunlight. The windows face directly east, and the walls and floor are covered with snow-white ceramic glaze. Everything shines as if in paradise. The tiles are several years old but look brand new. Mom dedicates a lot of time to this place. Johnny isn’t the biggest fan of washing his face. It’s much more important and pleasant for him to splash in the fresh, cool stream. But he has to brush his teeth.
He got up later than usual today—it is Saturday, after all—and he still wants to sleep. He takes the blue toothbrush of transparent plastic in his right hand and lays a straight line of three-colored toothpaste on it. He knows those are the colors of some country, but he can’t figure out which one, or, in principle, what connection that country has to his teeth. Oh, these morning thoughts. You think about nonsense as if it were something supremely important. Yet, this time could have been used for more sleep. If he could wash his face and brush his teeth without getting out of bed, preferably while dreaming, the boy would be happier.
His teeth grate against the toothpaste. The unpleasant sensation is masked by a strong menthol wind with every inhale and exhale, overriding all other smells, even the persistent aroma of his mom’s perfume, which is generally hard to overpower with anything. She only used it once; it was too strong for her. Now it just sits here and smells.
The small mirror reflects the boy’s sleep-distorted face. Judging by how his unruly chestnut hair sticks out in every direction, it woke up much earlier than its owner and had a good romp. He tries to smooth the curls with wet fingers. Without a comb, this difficult task is impossible. After a good number of movements from his sleepy hand, the free-spirited hair finally settles into its usual place. He lets a few strands fall from his bangs. His hair is ready.
His long, thick eyelashes threaten to close, shutting his rare sea-green eyes from the sunlight. A bit of toothpaste remains on his full, well-defined lips. He didn’t even realize how he noticed it while still half-asleep. Single drops of water, which have not fallen under the pile of the faded pale red towel, run down his cheeks. He has other towels, new ones. This one is dearer than all the rest; his Grandma Susie gave it to him when she last visited them. The last gift.
A ruthless heart attack struck the cheerful, vibrant old woman with a young soul on the neatly trimmed green lawn near the house. Since then, Johnny hasn’t mowed the grass there. The greenery grows as it pleases. The boy was only nine years old then. Laughing, he and his grandma were tossing an inflatable ball. In one moment, the ball simply fell from her hands. And that was the end for the joyful woman.
Almost four years have passed. A happy and bright birthday became the gloomy and sorrowful day of his beloved grandma’s death. For him, this towel will always be a memorable gift. The towel will wear out, holes will appear from time, the terry pile will fall off, but it will never lose its value, like bright memories of the nine-year-old boy's grandma. I doubt Johnny will ever throw it away.
From the kitchen, which is on the first floor of their two-story house, his mother’s light voice is audible. Her intonation gives away her good mood, and that’s a welcome sign. A hot, tasty breakfast awaits the boy who grew hungry overnight. He rinses off the remaining toothpaste and wipes his face with his favorite towel. He heads down the red runner on the staircase, carefully watching the rectangular steps and placing his feet cautiously so he doesn’t trip and fall like he did last year. He spent a month at home with a cast on his leg.
After the routine in the bathroom, he walks with more spring in his step. Cold water in the morning refreshes and helps him wake up. People wrongly underestimate its magical property. Johnny is always surprised that people mainly drink coffee to wake up. Yet, taking a cold shower is much more effective. He’d bet that icy water opens the eyes a hundred times faster than hot coffee. Well, someday people will figure it out, but not today. Johnny himself doesn’t like cold water, but when necessary, he can take on this feat. For now, a hot breakfast awaits.
Mary’s good mood suggests a wonderful idea. She prepares Johnny’s favorite pancakes with raspberry jam. Next to the plate is a large cup of cocoa with marshmallow spheres. The boy sits down at the table. His mother greets him with a friendly smile—she has no other smile for her son, except maybe a smile of pride and joy for him, and, of course, the smile of a loving mother. Johnny never leaves Mary’s smile unanswered.
The wooden chair creaks slightly beneath him. His mother always marvels at how much he enjoys eating, so she tries to cook something tasty more often just to see her son’s happy face. And they have cocoa every day for breakfast. A friend told her that cocoa is good for children. Since then, no tea or coffee in the house. And on weekends and holidays, marshmallows appear in the cup.
Today, they eat breakfast faster than usual. They’re rushing downtown for the bike. Whatever the case, they still need to wash the dishes afterward. Johnny washes all the dishes sitting in the sink. It’s his way of saying thank you for the delicious breakfast. It isn’t the most pleasant task in the morning, but it is necessary. He wipes his hard-worked hands. He admires his mother, who washes the dishes every day.
Johnny waits patiently. Mary is ready; they can go. They step outside and close the door behind them. They walk along the even sidewalk toward the downtown area. The town is small. They can get there in twenty minutes at a strolling pace. The weather is good today. They don’t wait for the old bus, which drives slower than they walk.
Johnny is already grown up and independent. He walks to his mother’s left, as befits a gentleman. A proud gaze, his chin parallel to the ground, straight posture, and polite speech. Mary doesn’t often tell her son that she’s proud, although she herself would like to praise him every day. That’s her parenting method. If you want your son to grow into a man, treat him like a man. Judging by Johnny, she is succeeding. Happily, he is growing up to be a man, not a lady-pleaser or a clumsy, helpless boy spoiled by female attention. His sense of self-respect is just as high as his respect for himself and others.
Tall maple trees with swelling buds line the entire street. The March sun breaks through the sprawling branches. Johnny imagines what July twenty-seventh, his birthday, will be like. In his thoughts, he’s riding his brand-new bicycle, and a big celebratory cake with thirteen candles awaits him at home. He still needs to figure out what wish he’ll make when it’s time to blow out the candles. They’re going to buy the bike, but he hasn’t thought of a new wish yet. His face noticeably tenses. Mary doesn’t miss it. They have a tradition of discussing problems, provided it doesn’t concern personal life.
There are rare exceptions for personal questions when her son’s opinion is the decisive argument for Mary. After all, she isn’t just looking for a man for herself; she’s looking for a father for Johnny first and foremost. Yes, he’s grown, but the boy needs a father. That’s what she thinks, and the boy wants his mother to be happy. So, they discuss candidates. So far, not a single one has been suitable. They’ve almost lost hope. Mary shudders just thinking about the day her son will move away from her. That will be later, but now she needs to figure out what’s bothering the boy.
“What are you thinking about, Johnny?” his mom cautiously asks.
“Oh, nothing,” the boy answers calmly, putting his hands in his hoodie pockets without realizing it. As he always does when he’s nervous.
“Tell me, you know you can’t hide anything from me,” Mary smiles slyly.
“I know,” Johnny draws out, as if all his secrets are already revealed.
“Well?” the girl is all attention, ready to listen, but Johnny isn’t ready to speak yet.
“I’m thinking what color bike to buy,” he reluctantly reveals a non-major thought.
“And that made you think so seriously?” Mary expresses slight surprise.
“Yes,” he answers confidently. And he’s not lying. This thought replaces the pondering over a new wish.
“What color bike do you want?”
“Red or blue,” he replies somewhat sadly. He knows these are the best colors, but he’s kind of sick of them.
“Maybe you should choose a different color?”
“Are there any other good colors?”
“Of course, there are! Lots of them.”
“Like what?”
“Green.”
“No,” he grimaces a little, imagining a green sports bike. “I’ll constantly lose it in the grass near the house.”
“Okay, then purple,” Mary hides a smile, suggesting unusual colors.
“That’s a girl’s color.”
“Why do you say that? I didn’t suggest pink.”
“They’re both girl colors.”
“Alright,” Mary smiles, looking at her serious son. “How about black?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what? It’s a purely masculine color. Or white?”
“Definitely not white. It’ll be dirty all the time,” the boy immediately imagines how often he’d have to wash it.
“That’s true,” Mary knows from experience how much attention white requires. “How about yellow?” she offers, imagining her son riding a sun with wheels.
“All the bugs will fly to it,” Johnny recalls how insects are attracted to yellow cars in the spring and summer.
“Then maybe silver? Or, if they have it, gold?”
“That’d be awesome,” the boy’s eyes light up as he imagines a new bike reflecting the sun’s rays with a shine.
“There, we’ve settled it. We’ll pick one when we get there,” now Mary quietly hopes that the store’s assortment won’t disappoint her son.
“Okay,” Johnny agrees happily. “I just doubt we’ll be lucky.”
“Well, we’ll see what they have, and then we’ll decide,” Mary is not discouraged.
On the way, they run into Mary’s former coworker. They aren’t friends, more like acquaintances. When they need advice, the girls know who they can turn to. It was Annie who suggested cocoa as the main drink in the house. They spot each other from afar. Mary isn’t that emotional, but Annie waves from a distance and smiles a snow-white smile, as if she’s competing in the local “Miss Erswan“ beauty pageant.
She might become the winner if the pageant were held in town. She has practically no competition. There are enough beauties, but only Annie has the time to preen almost all day. The other women in Erswan have families and children; they don’t have the time, they’re always busy. But Annie is only occupied with finding interesting activities to pass the time.
One of these activities has become walking the town streets looking for chance conversational partners. Mary falls into her net, and Johnny with her. A lot of time will be spent on talking. And Mary doesn’t want to offend her. The girl is completely alone here. For some reason, she doesn’t even get a cat, as other people in Erswan often do. It’s hard to understand. On the one hand, she loves solitude. On the other, she strives for people and communication. She dedicates as much time to others in her life as won’t restrict her personal space. It’s interesting to see how all this will turn out for her.
“Hello, darling!” Annie approaches Mary with a quick step. They air-kiss three times without touching cheeks. “And hello to you, kiddo,” she ruffles Johnny’s hair. The boy immediately fixes his hairstyle and pulls away a bit.
“Hello, Annie,” Mary smiles sweetly at her acquaintance, not showing that this is not the most opportune moment for a friendly chat.
“Where are you two off to?” this girl is interested in everything about everyone.
“We’re going downtown,” Mary replies, not going into detail.
“And why?” with this much interest, Annie won’t detach herself anytime soon.
“We want to buy a bike,” Mary has to reveal the secret to quickly escape the conversation. “They say a new model has arrived.”
“Yes, I heard. Some of the neighborhood kids are already riding the new bikes.”
“Mom, let’s hurry, they’ll sell out,” Johnny barely restrains himself from pulling his mom along.
“We’re talking,” Mary herself would run ahead. The obligatory small talk is, as always, ill-timed.
“Yes, Johnny, you’ll make it. Let your mom and me talk,” Annie wags a finger. The boy wants to slightly alter the shape of that finger, but his upbringing doesn’t allow it. “Mary! Did you hear that new people have moved in near us? Further down the street.”
“No, I haven’t heard. Who are they? Are they nice people?”
“I’ve only seen the man so far. Maybe he has a family, of course, but for now, only he is in the house.”
“Why didn’t you introduce yourself?” Mary smiles, noticing her acquaintance’s interest.
“I don’t even know. I was shy, I guess. He’s so... so...” Annie pauses, unable to find the right words to describe him.
“What is he? Interesting?” Mary prompts.
“Yes!” Annie’s eyes light up.
“Impressive?”
“Yes!” she rejoices at another pleasant coincidence in the description.
“Handsome?”
“Yes! I even liked him from a distance,” Annie recalls dreamily.
“Then why are you still here?” Mary subtly hints, finding a valid reason to part ways.
“I don’t know myself! You’re right! I need to run and introduce myself before someone else snaps up my man. I’ll bake my signature cupcakes. He’ll fall in love with me right away,” Annie muses out loud, running away from them toward the new acquaintance.
“Good luck!” Mary shouts after her, encouraging her acquaintance’s enthusiasm and quietly rejoicing at the escape from the untimely conversation.
I am not urging anyone to do anything.
All events and characters are fictional.
Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
I sincerely apologize if I have offended anyone.
Highly Recommended Age: 18+
The author bears no responsibility for the reader's perception of the book.