Buckley Harrison wished his baby sister had never been born.
This was on his eighth birthday. Little Bella, a mere six months at the time, had ruined his party with her constant crying and screaming, and she then threw up on the cake before Buck could have even a single slice. So instead of delicious double-decker red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting, Buck’s father had to run out to the corner market for a store-bought slab that resembled a frosted cinderblock.
All because of his selfish, needy little sister. Ever since Bella was born, she’d sucked up all the attention in the house. Even before she was born, really. Almost from the time his mother had found out she was going to have another baby, it had become all about the impending bundle of joy. Buck had started to feel invisible.
He had naively thought that on his birthday he would be the center of attention again, at least for a little while. No such luck.
So when his mother stuck the candle shaped like the number 8 in the cake and lit the wick, he had closed his eyes, wished his sister had never been born, and blew out the candle.
As soon as he opened his eyes, he knew his wish had come true. The slab cake had disappeared, replaced with the red velvet he had wanted. His father sat across the table, smiling gently at him. “What did you wish for?”
Buck mimicked zipping his lips shut. “I can’t tell you that.”
The highchair where Bella had sat was gone, along with Bella herself. His grandmother and grandfather remained, though they somehow looked older. His mother was nowhere to be seen.
He took a beat to enjoy the silence, no baby wailing as if being scalded. He smiled so wide he thought his face might just split in two.
His first inkling that his wish had gone wrong was when his father picked up the knife and started to cut the cake. That was his mother’s job. Always his mother’s job.
“Where’s Mom?” he asked.
His grandparents both winced in unison, as if he’d used a bad word. His father’s smile wilted and he just looked sad.
“Buddy, we’ve been over this. When your mother lost the baby, she couldn’t deal with it. She wanted to go be with your baby sister.”
Buck went cold all over, as if he’d been pushed in a tub full of ice water. “You mean… are you saying Mommy’s…?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.
His grandmother was weeping now, while his grandfather held her and whispered that it would be okay. His father even looked near tears.
“She’s in heaven looking down on us now like a guardian angel.”
This wasn’t what Buck had meant by his wish. This wasn’t what he had meant at all. Could he undo it, unwish his wish?
He glanced at the candle, a wispy line of smoke trailing up from the extinguished wick, and thought he might have to wait until next year. Maybe on his ninth birthday he could make it right.
MG Allan loves telling stories above all else. He spent his childhood making up stories in his head, and now he’s spending his adult life writing them down.
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