Magnolia

It was Matt's 11^th birthday. He had been looking forward to this day for what seemed like forever to a boy of his age. Not because he wanted the presents or the party, or even the Arsenal themed birthday cake that was waiting for him on the kitchen table. What he was looking forward to was seeing his father. He had promised Matt that he would be there on his birthday. Matt glared out of his bedroom window, waiting, overlooking his neatly paved driveway, anticipating his father's car to come cruising down the adjacent road and pull into the driveway at any second. He was still hopeful he would come, even if he was this late, it didn't matter. He knew that he would come, despite what he overheard his mother saying to his aunt earlier, slatting his father. How she patronized him with her forced air of positivity and her over the top toothy smile. She was secretly trying to compensate for the lack of his father's presence. Incidentally one of the presents his father had promised to bring Matt was a remote-controlled helicopter. A gift he had been looking forward to having for the past year (something his mother told him he wasn't allowed, but it was really because of the hefty price tag, his step dad was far from a frivolous spender). Matt saw through his mother's sharade. Deep down she was miserable. He was glad to be away from them all up in his room, his sanctuary.

It had been four years by this point that his parents had separated, leaving Matt's self esteem in shatters, like his birthday pinata that the other kids had by now smashed into smithereens, reaping it's sugar filled inerds, positively hyperactive and preoccupied. Matt welled in his seclusion. The stupid guests with their pittyful remarks, the other kids he dispised, the obnoxious birthday music and canned positivity that filled the room like a bad smell. And he was the epicenter of it all. He could tell by the way they were looking at him that they thought his father wouldn't show up. He had seen that look before. But they will see, when he does come, he thought to himself. Matt was determined to show them that his father did love him really. He was probably catching some lowlife criminal scumbag or has been called into training by the Arsenal manager again for the upcoming match – both of which were obvious lies he had previously used to cover up the fact he was a shoddy father. The innocence of the youth. His father was always fun. He let him drive the car, they went for McDonald's, played football, amongst other activities that entertain a child of that age without requiring actual parenting skills and teaching him responsibility. He didn't bug him about doing his homework like his mother did. In fact, he never even helped him with his homework once, or even inquired more into the matter other than ''How's school going Matt ? Not kissing too many girls are ya ?'' in his typical laddish banter. Matt always alluded that he was doing fine. He didn't want his father to know the truth, at risk of him thinking less of him. He already felt that he wasn't paying much attention to him because he was inadequate to his father's expectations. Matt felt like he was the problem. He wanted to be just like his father.

Matt had now been sitting in his room for the past hour. His mother had knocked on his door twice in that time, trying to entice him out by guilt tripping him, saying that everyone was there to see him and it was rude to hide upstairs. He thought she was so irritating and annoying. In fact he resented her. – The thanks she got for actually being there for him, and not abandoning him on his birthday to get drunk or sleep with some bird. But that wasn't how it appeared to Matt. – All he knew was that when he was with his dad, he had fun, and when he was with his mother, she belittled him. He loved her of course, but he didn't always respect her. The long Sunday afternoon seemed to drag out indefinitely, the bleak grey of the damp early spring. By now the ominous grey clouds above had acted upon their menace, and thus, it started rain. It matched Matt's mood. As the rain progressively worsened, his optimism dwindled. Another birthday ruined. His self worth crushed, again. They were all right.

It was 5:15, the last of the guests had left. The rain had by now halted and his step dad, Paul, had returned home, unfortunately not dying in an accident on his commute back from work. He snuck down the stairs, put on his new football boots, and set out the back door. Matt went outside into the garden. A typical English garden of an ordinary terraced house in a decent area. He kicked his football around to pass the time. The odour of the bold pink Magnolia's bloom filled the damp spring air, whilst it stood robustly, in the middle of the lawn, alone. A strong distinct smell of spring. Maybe if he could get in the football team his dad would come and see him play. He tried to do ten kick ups. It was the required amount to get on the football team. But no matter how hard he tried, he just wasn't any good at football. It seemed the more he tried, the worse he got. It frustrated him greatly. He pelted the ball into the trees at the bottom of the garden furiously, before kicking the noble pink Magnolia tree.

He sunk to the foot of it's trunk as he sat leaning back on it's bark, on the damp ground, littered by pieces of confetti and the odd sweet wrapper. Little to his knowledge, his mother had been watching him out of the kitchen window. Tears filled his eyes at first. But then they subsided, replaced with an emptiness, as he fiddled with a piece of confetti, lost in a sea of despair, in a state of disarray. He heard arguing coming from indoors as he sat there staring up at the sky with his head pressed back on the Magnolia. The kitchen door closed shut, as he heard his mother approach, calling out his name once inquisitively in an upset tone. He didn't turn and look at her initially until she appeared in his field of vision, as the rain started to spittle down from above, sprinkling the Magnolia's foliage. To Matt's pleasant bewilderment, she was holding the remote controlled helicopter he had always hoped for ! Matt couldn't contain the cheerful smile that overtook his expression. They looked into each other's eyes. She had a sincere look of concern in her eyes, she had been crying. Although sad, her eyes smiled, and matched her grin, she was being honest. ''Happy birthday Mathew'' she said smiling kindly at him, handing him the unwrapped gift. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. ''Thank you mum''. Solace.

*

It had been a year and two months since Matt's mother passed away. Today was her birthday. He held a bouquet of pink magnolias in his hands, her favorite flowers. They were so vivid in colour, clashing the grey, rainy day and the sorrowful setting. His tear filled eyes glared at his mother's tombstone. 'Rest in peace Gloria Noble. Beloved mother, sister and wife. Unjustly taken before your time, you shall be greatly missed.' It felt surreal. He felt a hole eating away inside of him, his skull tingled numbly, he went cold. The smell of the beautifully exotic blooms brought him back to his childhood. Back to his 11^th birthday, when he was so rude to her because his estranged father never showed up to his birthday. She went out to the shops and bought him the helicopter, defying Paul and redeeming his father's false promises. She was brilliant. He was transported back to the moment he hugged her under the Magnolia that day. Matt broke down in tears, sobbing relentlessly under the cold November rain. He loved her so much and now she was gone. Loss.