Birthday Wish - Part II

Part II: Obstinate Opinions

Unfortunately for Charlie, convincing his parents was not as simple as he had hoped. His parents were incredibly stern; ignoring any good reason their son came up with. It was odd for his parents to be so stubborn about one of his requests, especially when they wouldn't give a reason why they were so against it. And after a week had passed and his parents' resolve hadn't crumbled at all, Charlie began to feel as though he might as well give up...

Fortunately, he wasn't able to; he was just as, if not more, stubborn than his parents.

This was why he had been sent to bed early and was lying on his back with a pout on his face and his arms folded stiffly. The Davisons had claimed that Charlie seemed exceptionally grumpy and thought it was about time for him to go to bed. Needless to say, the boy wasn't pleased.

The light from the hallway disappeared for a moment as his mom walked in. She sat on the side of his bed and smiled down at him. "Ready for bed?"

Charlie stayed quiet and, instead of looking at his mom, turned his head to the wall.

Mrs. Davison couldn't help frowning at her son's actions. "Listen, Charlie," she said through a sigh. The child's blue eyes looked back at her as she continued to speak. "I know you want your dad and me to get you a brother. But we just aren't ready to have another son right now..."

Charlie's pout became a scowl as he turned away from his mother; this was definitely not what he wanted to hear.

"Do you understand?" she asked, still frowning at how upset he seemed. Her son didn't say anything but gave a nod of the head. She sighed. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the child was clearly still upset. "Good night, Charlie…"

All she received was an incoherent mumble in response. Mrs. Davison walked back into the living room and sat beside her husband, who was watching something on TV. He began explaining what she had missed when she had left the room, but the woman wasn't really listening. "Do you think we're being too hard on him?"

Mr. Davison, who had only been focusing on the show, was a bit confused. "What? Hard on who?"

"Charlie," she clarified with a frown, glancing back toward the hallway. "We keep telling him that we can't have another son, but he's really hurt by it…and maybe he's got the right idea. After all, we are busy a lot, and Stefan won't always be able to come over…"

Her husband sighed tiredly and rubbed the bridge of his nose, leaning his head back. "Shannon, we've talked about this…" He stayed like that for moment longer before looking at his wife, whose countenance was full of worry. "We both agreed that we weren't going to have another kid, Charlie was going to be the only one; don't you remember what a handful he was…and still is, sometimes?"

"But this, this'll be different, Jon," she assured him. "After all, this time we don't have to go through the baby years. And, even if we will have to deal with another energetic son, they'll be playing with each other for the most part anyway…"

Mr. Davison, like Charlie a few minutes ago, didn't seem to like what she had to say. His wife couldn't help being somewhat amused by this; he always seemed to be complaining about their son's energy and chattiness but, in reality, Charlie was just what Shannon imagined Jonathan had been like as a child…maybe just a bit more lively though… [1]

However, unlike Charlie, there was some trace of hesitation on Mr. Davison's face, which meant that she had a chance to make his decision sway. She scooted closer to her husband, resting her arm on the back of the couch behind his head. "Maybe we can just…apply for adoption. We don't have to adopt anyone, but we can at least try, right?"

The man rolled his eyes, looking at the wall opposite him. "Please Jon? If we do this, it may calm Charlie down." Then she spoke again, leaning close enough so that her breath tickled his ear, "And that means he'll stop bothering you during the football games too…"

The corner of his mouth twitched.

*******

It was only six thirty when Charlie awoke the next morning. And while he watched Saturday morning cartoons, he eventually heard his mother go into the kitchen to make breakfast and then a while later his father was up as well, getting ready to go to work.

He was watching a rerun of Recess when his mom came into the room. "Charlie, breakfast's ready."

He quickly stood up, went into the kitchen, and plopped down in his chair. Unlike the past few days when his mom simply made Eggo Waffles or gave him cereal, today Mrs. Davison had cooked up a feast. There was bacon, eggs, sausage, toast, even a few pancakes; normally breakfasts like this only happened on holidays or his birthday but Thanksgiving was still days away and his birthday wasn't until the day after it this year.

Charlie began to load up his plate when his mom came back in the room with his father close behind, already dressed for work. "Jeez, Charlie, you got enough food there?" Mr. Davison joked, messing up his son's hair as he went to sit down.

The five year old's mouth was closed, full of sausage, and so he only nodded. His parents also began to fill their plates and once Charlie got a drink of his orange juice he decided to ask a question, interrupting his parents' conversation, "Why'd you make so much, Mom? It's not Thanksgiving yet…"

"Well, because…" she smiled, looking at her husband before she continued, "your dad and I decided that you were right." Charlie froze; his forkful of eggs hovering in midair while his mouth hung open; was she saying…what he thought she was saying? "It would be nice if you had someone besides Stefan to play with…and there is enough room in the house for one more…"

A grin spread on Charlie's face. "So, you're gonna get me a brother?" he asked, he needed to double-check and make sure she was saying what he thought.

"Well, we're gonna try to," his dad clarified after taking a drink from his glass. "We can't guarantee it…"

"Great! When we gonna go to the orange to find one?" The boy didn't seem to understand that the adoption wasn't for sure yet.

"Orphanage, sweetie," Mrs. Davison corrected. "And, well, it'll still take a while before we could go to choose one… There are some papers that your dad and I have to fill out first."

"Why?" Charlie wondered before beginning to eat his breakfast again.

"Well, the orphanage needs to make sure we'll be able to take good care of the person we decide to adopt… Then, if they think we have what it takes to adopt, we'll be set up with kids to interview."

"How long will that take?"

"We won't know 'til we get there," Mr. Davison commented.

*******

Charlie was still ecstatic even when two months had passed and they still hadn't heard anything from the orphanage.

When it went to three months, he was a little less overjoyed but still hopeful.

Four months: he was still a bit excited but he was getting impatient.

Five: the excitement was barely noticeable anymore.

Six…and he was ready to crack. After all, it had been half a year; it was nearly summertime now, and his parents said that there still wasn't an interview set up. Every day after school since January, Charlie would rush off of the bus to his mom—who was either out in the garden or in the house cleaning, cooking, or relaxing—and would ask the same thing: "Did the or-fan-age send anything?" (He still had trouble saying orphanage so he said it really slow.)

And the answer was always the same, "Not yet, Charlie. Don't worry we'll hear from them soon…"

Yeah…

He didn't consider six months anything close to soon.

Finally school ended and Charlie didn't even bother to ask anymore; he was getting tired of hearing no and thought if he heard it again he would go crazy. Actually, he was beginning to wonder if his parents really sent anything to the orphanage, or if they simply said that they did; it wouldn't be that surprising if that was the case…

Then, it finally happened.

"Charlie…Charlie, come in here," his mom called one day. Charlie sighed, turning off the TV and going into the entryway. His parents were both in the room and the two were reading something in his dad's hand.

"Yeah, Mom?"

She looked up from the paper, smiling. Charlie only stared in confusion before his dad looked up from the letter as well. "It's from the orphanage," he explained.

Charlie's eyes widened and was practically jumping as shouted, "And?! What does it say? What does it say!?" He looked back and forth between the adults, his countenance showing extreme exuberance.

His mother finally spoke, beaming, "We're scheduled for interviews with some of the kids next week!"