Confections

Being an only child is lonely. Being the only kid in your neighborhood who didn’t go away for spring break is lonelier.

This morning, I told Mom I was bored. Actually, I had to tell her three times. She had her headphones in because she’s working from home while I’m on spring break so that I’m not home alone. But she can’t actually do anything with me because she’s working. I’m not sure what’s getting solved by her working from home.

Anyway, she told me it was my fault I was bored. That she had offered to sign me up for spring break camp so I’d have something to do this week.

I told her that spring break camps are lame and they’re for little kids. I told her I was old enough to stay home alone.

At which point Mom reminded me that, no, legally I was not old enough to stay home alone.

So that’s when I told her that was a technicality. My birthday was just a few weeks away and then I’d be 12 and I could stay home alone.

She said that sounded great and she’d be happy to leave me home alone at that point. 

She started to put her headphones back on, but I thought quickly and told her that just a few hours of driving and I’d be in Nebraska where kids could stay home alone as young as 7. I’d done my homework on the subject.

She said that was all well and good but I couldn’t drive. She further said that if I could make the many, many, many hour walk to Nebraska and find a family willing to take me in, they could choose to leave me home alone.

At which point she swiveled back to her computer, plugged her headphones into her ears and began typing and clicking at a pace that seemed inhuman.

And that’s how I ended up outside, taking a walk. Not to Nebraska, but just into town. For some reason, I could take a walk out in the world by myself but could not stay at home by myself. Explain that one Colorado child safety law people!

It was a cloudless, sunny day, but there was a chill in the air. I popped the collar of my fleece jacket and zipped it all the way up before cramming my hands in my pockets to keep them warm. That’s when I felt something in my pocket. I knew what that was: money!

I pulled a twenty dollar bill from who-knows-when out of my pocket and smiled. My originally destination-less walk now had a destination. A purpose. The candy shop.

I quickened my pace, my sneakers slapping a little louder against the sidewalk, the breeze blowing a little cooler as my shaggy brown hair lifted away from my ears.

In the short three blocks to town square, my mind raced with the possibilities of all I could buy with twenty dollars at Confections. The old timey shop dated back ages. I don’t know exactly how old, but I know my nana said she’d been there to buy candy as a kid, so a long time.

And it looked its age. Cracks in the tile floor, the wallpaper faded so much you could barely see the pink stripes in places. 

I’d asked Mom why they didn’t just remodel and she said that was part of the charm, that it looked like something from the old days. That Confections was magical.

I didn’t see charm or magic, but whatever. I was mainly in it for the candy anyway.

I slowed down a bit as I approached the square and Confections. I didn’t want to walk in huffing and puffing from my power walk. I was a cool, calm kid. Able to be out on my own. Responsible enough to buy my own candy, thank you very much.

I paused at the door to smooth my hair and unzip my jacket a little. I took a deep breath, relaxed my shoulders and reached out to grab the old bronze doorknob to open the door when ZAP!

I pulled my hand back. I looked around, seeing if anyone noticed the bright blue flash of light, but there was no one in sight.

I slowly reached my hand out again. I grabbed the knob and ZAP again.

I looked at my hand. Looked at the knob. The zap didn’t hurt me and it didn’t seem to hurt the door. I peered through the window beside the door, but didn’t see anyone inside. The old fashioned sign stuck to the window with a suction cup displayed the “Open! Come on in!” side.

I was determined now. I grabbed the knob, ZAP, but I held on, turned and pushed.

Walking through the doorway felt like talking a step through a beam of blue light. The air seemed to dance with electricity. I took another step into Confections and let the door close behind me with the gentle tinkle of a bell chiming as it did.

I blinked away the brightness of the blue light. But then had to blink some more as I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Same tile floor, but no cracks. Same wallpaper, but bright pink and cream stripes - no fading, no peeling.

As I was taking in my surroundings, a tall lean man stood up from behind the counter. He looked my way, nodded and smiled.

I don’t know if it was the look of wonder and astonishment in my eyes that told him I needed a minute, or if he was always hands-off with customers. But I appreciated the space.

I stepped towards the bins of candy, but something was different. As I looked closer, I realized it. There were no Sour Patch Kids. No Now and Laters. No Twix. No Trolli gummies. Instead, Goo Goo Clusters and Charleston Chews and Bit-O-Honey.

I looked back to the man at the counter. He busied himself wiping down the soda fountains and counters, but kept an eye on me. I walked over and sat on a stool in front of him.

“Good afternoon, young man,” he said. Something about his voice. What was it? A strange cadence, the hint of a different accent. It sounded like something out of an old movie. I looked at his name badge. Walter.

“H-h-hi,” I stammered out. I cleared my throat as I looked around the counter area. “What’s ah… What’s going on here?”

“This is Confections, young man,” Walter said. “What can I get for you today?”

“I, um, I’m not sure,” I said, looking back to Walter. “Something is different here. This isn’t how I remember the shop being the last time I came in.”

Walter nodded knowingly. “You come here with your parents usually.” It was a statement, but I nodded in agreement. “When it’s just a kid in a candy shop, that’s when it’s magical,” Walter said with a bright smile.