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There was a day when Ray woke up alone in the room he shared with his brothers, which was strange because he was the first among them to get up, even a good five minutes before the morning alarm rang.
But there was that specific day when everyone disappeared from their beds without making a tiny noise that reached his attentive ears. Even Norman simply vanished from the sheets of his bed next to Ray's.
"Mama?..."
Still rubbing his eyes to chase away sleep, Ray got out of bed and peeked through the door of the room. There was no one in the hallway, just the soft rays of sunlight coming through the windows along with the rising song of the birds announcing the new day.
He was still a little boy, and the absence of noise and people he was used to filled him with insecurity. His mother didn’t answer his call immediately as she usually did, which didn’t ease his fearful thoughts.
Where did everyone go? Why did they leave him?
He frowned on his way to the dining room; his small hands would soon fall prey to anxiety if he didn’t find his mother soon. Wherever she was, there he would find them all.
She couldn’t just leave him as if nothing had happened; it wasn’t about that, but there wasn’t much to think about being so alone in that big house.
He reached the closed doors of the dining room and pressed his ear against the wood: he didn’t hear anything. Just to be sure, he pushed the doors to peek inside that space; the slight creak of the hinges broke the silence for a moment before a chorus of loud and euphoric voices erupted:
"Happy birthday, Ray!!"
The first to grab him in a warm embrace were Emma and Norman, his older siblings, who also came over with celebrations and popped handmade confetti balloons over him. Even one of the older girls placed a cardboard crown adorned with glitter on his head, marking him as the king of the occasion.
Ray stood frozen, blinking in astonishment at all the commotion. Everyone seemed happier than he usually noticed; each one wished him good health, a long life, and reminded him how much they loved him and how special he was in that family.
It was difficult to hear each word they spoke exactly because they were all talking at the same time. Even amidst all the lively vibes, a faint sob was heard that silenced them all in less than a second.
The animated faces changed suddenly; it was no longer genuine happiness that warmed the dining room, but concern that made everyone turn to the only adult woman in the room for an explanation.
"Ray? my dear, what’s wrong?"
Isabella, who had been keeping her distance behind her children grouped at the door, made her way through them in a straight line toward her beloved only son. She knelt down on the floor, her loving and puzzled violet eyes searching for any physical discomfort that could have caused the child to sob in front of everyone.
Ray didn't use words to respond. His cheeks, no longer pale, were flushed, and tiny tears streamed down his face as he hiccuped in embarrassment. He lifted his face to meet his mother’s gaze, squeezing his pajama shirt as if he were holding back something more.
Isabella softened her understanding expression, realizing what was happening. She opened her arms, and as if she had a magnet, Ray moved toward her, needing to be protected in her embrace.
"It's okay, it's okay," she whispered soothingly "Don’t worry, mama is here with you."
She stood up with the little one in her arms, hiding his face in her chest and rubbing his back for comfort as she turned to speak to the other children:
"Don’t worry, Ray is fine. He just got a little scared," she explained simply to them, tenderly rubbing his cheek with the child’s dark hair. "Be ready to eat when I come back with him, okay?"
She pointed to the older kids, who would take care of cleaning up the confetti from the floor and seating the younger ones at the table.
Ray peeked his uncovered eye over one of Isabella’s shoulders, noticing how the two were moving away from the dining room. At the door stood Emma and Norman, looking sad but patiently waiting for his return so they could have breakfast together as usual.
"My little one... it was overwhelming, wasn’t it?"
Moments later, in Isabella’s room, she had taken care of changing Ray out of his pajamas into the usual orphanage uniform, not without first lovingly drying his tears to calm him down properly.
"You woke up alone, with so much silence, but suddenly seeing them all so unexpectedly... I can assure you those tears were of relief, weren’t they?"
She inquired after tying the laces of one of his shoes. Ray remained silent since he had calmed his hiccups, but his quiet responses only confirmed Isabella’s thoughts.
How amazing Mom was; without being present when he woke up and without saying anything to him, she could perfectly deduce what he felt.
Why respond to something she already knew?
Sitting on the edge of his mother’s desk, he kept his head down under her attentions.
"You know?" she called again, earning a pair of curious eyes peeking out from behind a medium fringe. "Everyone had wonderful ideas to surprise you today. They love you very much and wanted to make sure you knew that." She let out a soft chuckle. "I guess all that love is still a bit much for you..."
She commented while stacking the pajamas she had taken off to deal with later. Ray huffed upon hearing her.
Certainly, such open displays of affection were something he still couldn’t handle; he was just getting used to his mother’s affection, which mostly happened out of sight of others.
"Is there anything I can do to make up for the scare? Whatever you want... Maybe you want a new book..."
Isabella offered beside him, trying once again to coax a response from her little one.
Did Mom want to give him something of his choice? What could he ask for? He was genuinely interested in that.
Isabella smiled contentedly as she noticed him thinking about her proposal. What was he about to ask for?
"Cookies..."
After a long moment, Ray’s voice brightened Isabella’s heart. However, she couldn’t help but feel more confused, even tilting her head slightly.
"That’s what you want?..." she asked, puzzled.
She had truly expected a more typical request, like a new book, which is why she blinked a couple of times at his small response. Ray nodded without looking at her, hiding his hands in his lap and swinging his dangling legs.
"Alright... I think there are still some in the jar in the pantry..." she closed her eyes for a moment, holding her chin as she tried to remember that fact.
"No, I don’t want those."
Ray hurried to stop her. One of Isabella’s eyebrows raised in confusion.
"Not those? Then..."
Her son was a man of few words; she had been studying him for many years up to that moment and noticed that the fewer things he said or the less specific he was, the greater the detail hidden in his speech.
A thought crossed her mind after overthinking it a bit; she hesitated to say it out loud, but if what she was thinking was correct, then she knew that Ray wouldn’t speak to clarify it himself.
"Do you... want me to make you cookies?"
Even with half of his little face hidden by his front bangs, he couldn’t hide a small smile, which was an assertive gesture confirming Isabella's thoughts.
There were no words that could fully encompass the warm feeling in the mother’s chest.
"But they’re not that different from the ones in the jar; I think they taste the same..." she gestured to downplay her own baking skills.
"No, they’re not the same..." Ray contradicted her.
A year ago, he had tasted her cookies when she made them for all the children as a reward for being so good. The homemade flavor had left a mark on him, and taking advantage of the occasion, he wanted to eat them again.
Isabella would never say it, but Ray’s request was the greatest compliment she had ever received. The children mentioned it too, and each of their words was etched in her heart. But for it to be Ray who said it now was something entirely different; it felt like receiving an award, a comfort she couldn’t even describe it exactly at that moment.
She shook her head slightly to not get lost in those thoughts. A sigh escaped her as her placid expression reappeared. She turned to Ray, picking up the curious cardboard crown she had taken off earlier to change his clothes.
"Alright, this king will have his cookies later," she assured, carefully placing the craft on the little boy’s head.
So small, so innocent, so fragile. He was her greatest treasure.
Isabella picked up little Ray to lift him off the desk, took his hand, and guided him out of the room toward the dining room where everyone would be waiting for them to have breakfast that day.
The coming hours were strange for Ray; so much attention on him wasn’t easy to bear. Contradictorily, deep down, he felt happy about it.
He was starting to enjoy acting indifferent, wanting to avoid them, but they always appeared in his path with their bright, contagious smiles. His favorite moment could easily be when everyone took him to the library to share some reading time together:
"Ray loves to read a lot; let’s read with him, and that will surely make him happy."
It was one of the many similar thoughts of the children.
Meanwhile, Isabella was busy in the kitchen, taking advantage of the solitude in that part of the house. She used her children's idea to keep Ray distracted for a good while. Luckily, she was quick in any activity she undertook; the only delay would be perceiving the pleasant aroma of the cookie dough wafting through the oven door.
How ironic… She, the quintessential mother among the five farms, the perfect representation of the upbringing and care of livestock expected by the superiors, the one who accepted this fate for her own survival, was patiently waiting for the chime of a bell to let her know that the cookies she made for her son were ready.
A delicate fantasy like the wings of a butterfly that she was willing to live today, to hold it in her hands so that reality wouldn’t cruelly tear it apart.
Days as normal as this one would remain imprinted in Isabella's mind and soul until it was time to take her last breath.
The hours went on and the children’s day was like any other: bustling, joyful. And like any other day, the moon was already approaching to take its throne in the sky.
Finally, Ray managed to escape from the other children. The hardest one to shake off was Emma, but thanks to the exhaustion that spares no one, the wild-haired girl left him alone.
Everyone was getting ready to rest, but not before receiving a shy, "Thank you for everything you did for me today" from the birthday boy. The orphans would go to sleep blessed with the tender image of Ray in their minds.
Isabella came to one of the children's rooms in search of her little one. Ray had such a good time that day that he had forgotten his mother’s offer.
"To the king, his order. To a birthday boy, his wish."
Isabella paraphrased as she arrived at the now-empty and dimly lit dining room. Ray noticed what was served on the middle table, and a spark of excitement lit up in his eyes. He let go of the older woman's hand and trotted over to climb onto one of the chairs.
Mom had indeed made cookies for him!
Although they were less than warm, they smelled wonderful, and a glass of milk beside the plate was more than perfect. It was exactly as he wanted.
Could he sink his teeth into them already? Or how could he confirm they tasted as good as that time?
One of Ray's little hands, which was already reaching for the plate, was stopped mid-air.
"This is the first time I've seen you so excited to eat something"
Isabella, leaning against the frame of the front door, couldn’t help but comment adoringly about it. The child's reaction was heartwarming; so much so that Ray paused for a moment, realizing he had gotten carried away. He closed his hand in the air and pulled his arm back, embarrassed, not knowing where else to look but at the floor.
The woman noticed this and approached the table, taking her seat. She brushed back the long strand of hair that covered half of the little boy's face in a gesture of understanding.
"Go ahead, they’re all yours," she allowed, holding her son's chin to make him stop hiding from her.
Mom loved him, that was what the small and innocent Ray thought as he felt her touch.
Feeling like the most special boy to Isabella in that moment, Ray reached for a couple of the cookies served and stretched one out to his mother, offering it to her:
"Eat with me, mama"
There was his true intention; Ray didn’t just want the cookies, he wanted to be with his mother on his special day too, just the two of them, and that was more than enough for Ray. How could she refuse him? Isabella accepted the gesture and stayed with him, eating cookies.
Minutes passed, and while Ray told his mother about what he had done that day with the other children, she wiped the crumbs from his clothes or the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief.
In that moment, there was no farm, no worries about false adoptions, no demons to fear: it was just a mother and her son sharing a moment that was as simple as it was special.
[. . .]
"The less I want to pamper you, the more I end up doing it… How do you do it?"
Isabella whispered, carrying a sleeping Ray resting on her shoulder.
The sweetness of the cookies and the ambient temperature of the milk had managed to lull the boy deep into his dreams. Now she was heading to Ray's bedroom; most of the children would already be asleep, so it wouldn’t be a problem to come in and out without disturbing the other little ones.
"How many more years will you let me hold you like this?"
She asked in a barely perceptible murmur, allowing herself to cling a little more to the warmth radiating from her sleeping son. Once inside the bedroom, careful of any sudden movements, she stretched the sheets on his bed to lay the little one down. After settling him in, she took the edge of the blanket and tucked him in up to his chest.
"Happy birthday, Ray..."
She said affectionately, stroking his pale cheek one last time after placing a kiss on his forehead to smooth out that characteristic frown of his.
Isabella left the room unaware that her little one had heard her, not knowing that she had been his greatest happiness that day.
Ray snuggled under the covers with a mischievous smile, feeling loved, feeling special.
Feeling happy...
[SEVEN YEARS LATER]
While all the children were exploring the infinite and magical land of dreams allowed by ten o'clock at night, Ray, now eleven years old, stopped forcing the fatigue he didn’t feel at that hour and surrendered to his restless and unstoppable thoughts.
He didn’t even put on his slippers to leave the room, and as expected, the hallways of the house were empty, dimly lit by the wall lamps, the same walls against which Ray dragged one of his arms listlessly on his way to the orphanage's food storage.
January 15, 2045, was about to fade away, to become just another day of the past, another year completed within that facade of a happy and safe family. He didn’t care much about that date anymore, but maybe next year would be interesting again considering his plan.
As he opened the doors to the storage room, he strolled slowly between the shelves, rummaging through the boxes, eyeing the descriptive labels on the transparent jars.
Cookies.
Ray was looking for cookies.
Since that day he turned four, it had become his custom to want to eat cookies. Isabella had also grown accustomed to this desire and, in the following years, would make them for Ray before he even asked. However, due to certain events, that shared custom faded away, but Ray still held onto his longing for cookies made by his mother every January 15th.
It was no longer just a simple craving; deep down, he wanted to feel his mother’s affection from the perspective of his innocence once more.
He wanted to think of her without his stomach twisting or resentment throbbing in his chest every time he saw her with his other siblings.
No matter how much his mind stubbornly refused to give in, his heart wavered, wanting to continue loving his mother as he once did.
"You didn't hug me this year, mother.."
He muttered with a hint of resentment in his low voice as he reached for the container he was looking for. He sat on the floor, leaning against a shelf while twisting the lid off the jar of cookies that Isabella always hid from the younger children.
When he opened it, there was no enticing scent, no warm, steamy aroma of freshly baked dough exclusively for him that he missed so much, that he wanted so desperately to stop desiring but which he clung to so tightly on the floor, hoping to find again.
"They don’t taste the same..."
He complained while tasting one of them. They didn't taste bad, but with each bite he took, the situation he was living in became clearer and clearer: things had changed between the two of them, nothing was like it used to be, and no matter what happened, nothing guaranteed that those days when it was just him and his mother would return.
Ray ate cookies alone, on the cold floor, with his bangs hiding his closed eyes, indifferent to the crumbs on his clothes or at the corners of his mouth, just sinking into his sorrow from that day when he was supposed to be a king.
Her king...