The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Charlie. Jesus.”
    “But that’s a summer sport.”
    “Mom. Would you make him buy something?”
    “Charlie. Calm down. It’s okay.”
    I felt so sad. I didn’t know what was going on. Mom was trying to be really nice because when I get like this, she is the one that tries real hard to keep things calm.
    “I’m sorry, Mom.”
    “No. Don’t be sorry. You want to get a nice present for your father. That’s a good thing.”
    “Mom!” My sister was really getting mad.
    My mom didn’t even look at my sister.
    “Charlie, you can buy your father whatever you want. I know he’ll love it. Now, calm down. It’s okay.”
    My mom took me to four different stores. Each one my sister just sat in the nearest chair and groaned. I finally found the perfect store. It was a movie place. And I found a videocassette of the last episode of M*A*S*H without the commercials. And I felt a lot better. Then, I started telling Mom about how we all watched it together.
    “She knows, Charlie. She was there. Let’s go. Duh.”
    My mom told my sister to mind her own business, and she listened to me tell the story that she already knew, leaving out the part about my dad crying because that was our little secret. My mom even told me how I tell stories very well. I love my mom. And this time, I told her I loved her. And she told me she loved me, too. And things were okay for a little while.
    We were sitting at the dinner table, waiting for my dad to come home with my brother from the airport. He was really late, and my mom started to worry because it was snowing really hard outside. And she kept my sister at home because she needed help with dinner. She wanted it to be extra special for my brother and for me because he was coming home, and it was my birthday. But my sister just wanted to buy her boyfriend a present. She was in a really bad mood. She was being like those bratty girls in movies from the 1980s, and my mom kept saying “Young lady” after every sentence.
    My dad finally called and said that because of the snow, my brother’s plane was going to be very late. I just heard my mom’s side of the discussion.
    “But it’s Charlie’s birthday dinner… I don’t expect you to do anything about it… did he miss it? I’m just asking… I didn’t say it was your fault… no… I can’t keep it warm… it’ll be dry… what… but it’s his favorite… well, what am I supposed to feed them… of course they’re hungry… you’re already an hour late… well, you could have called…”
    I don’t know how long my mom was on the phone because I couldn’t stay at the table and listen. I went into my room and read. I wasn’t hungry anymore anyway. I just wanted to be in a quiet place. After a little while, my mom came into the room. She said that dad had just called again, and they should be home in thirty minutes. She asked me if anything was wrong, and I knew that she didn’t mean my sister, and I knew that she didn’t mean she and Dad fighting on the phone because that stuff just happens sometimes. She just noticed that I looked very sad today, and she didn’t think it was my friends leaving because I looked okay yesterday when I came back from sledding.
    “Is it your aunt Helen?”
    It was the way she said it that started me feeling.
    “Please, don’t do this to yourself, Charlie.”
    But I did do it to myself. Like I do every year on my birthday.
    “I’m sorry.”
    My mom wouldn’t let me talk about it. She knows that I stop listening and start to really breathe fast. She covered my mouth and wiped at my eyes. I calmed down enough to make it downstairs. And I calmed down enough to be glad when my brother came home. And when we ate dinner, it wasn’t too dry. Then, we went outside to put up luminaria, which is an activity where all our neighbors fill brown paper bags with sand and line the street with them. Then, we stick a candle in the sand of each bag, and when we light the candles, it turns the street into a “landing strip” for Santa Claus. I love putting luminaria up every year because it is very beautiful and a tradition and a good distraction from my birthday.
    My family gave me some really nice birthday presents. My sister was still mad at me, but she got me a Smiths record anyway. And my brother got me a poster signed by the whole football team. My dad gave me some records that my sister told him to buy. And my mom gave me some of the books she loved when she was a kid. One of them was The