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Maybe it’ll be two babies, just like Wendy and Wyatt. One for Theo, and one for me.
We can both be Mario.
As the minutes tick by, my thoughts begin to quiet, and I’m whisked away by a magical dream. I’m in the sky, sitting atop the crest of the banana moon.
It’s loud up here.
I’m drowning in the chatter of a thousand wishes.
And somehow, somewhere, I think I hear my own…
I’ll trade anything for a baby sister.
“Brant.”
I’m shaken awake by a familiar presence. At first I’m confused, wondering if I missed the school bus, but then I remember that it’s summer break.
My eyelids flutter open as a hand grips my shoulder. It’s still so dark in my bedroom. It’s still nighttime. I blink, trying to make sense of the shadows. “Dad?”
“Wake up, Brant. Wake up.”
His voice doesn’t sound right; it sounds frightful, like he’s somebody else. A different person. I sit up straight, rubbing at my sleepy eyes and clutching Bubbles the Elephant to my chest. “Am I in trouble?”
Dad’s face is glistening in the glow of my night-light. He’s sweaty and breathing funny. “I love you, Brant. Forgive me.”
I can only stare at him. I don’t understand.
“Hide under your bed,” he orders, tugging at my arm. “Come on.”
My tummy starts to swirl with dread. Tears rush to my eyes. “I’m scared.”
“Be a good boy. Please.”
I want to be a good boy, so I obey. Squeezing Bubbles in a tight grip, I scoot my butt off the mattress until my feet touch the floor. Dad reaches for me then, taking me by both shoulders and giving me a firm shake. My eyes can now see him better in the dark, and I notice a few scratches etched into his cheeks, mean and red. “Where’s Mom?”
A weird look washes over his face, pinching his eyebrows together and causing him to tremble as he holds me. He lowers himself to both knees, until we’re face-to-face, and the lump in his throat bobs up and down. Fingernails are digging into my skin, and it kind of hurts, but the fear hurts me more. “Listen carefully, Son,” he says in a stranger’s voice, low and gruff. Sad. “I want you to crawl under your bed and stay there until the sun lights up your room. Do you understand?” Dad places his navy-blue phone with large number buttons into my hand, forcing my fingers around it. “When the sun comes up, dial 9-1-1. But this part is important… You have to promise me you’ll do it, okay?”
Wetness trickles down my cheeks. I nod. I don’t know what else to do.
“Don’t go downstairs.”
Don’t go downstairs. Don’t go downstairs. Don’t go downstairs.
The words echo inside me, over and over. I have to obey. I have to promise.
“Okay, Dad.”
He relaxes just a little. “I love you. We both love you. You know that, right?”
“Yes, I know,” I tell him through my tears. I’m not even sure why I’m crying, but it feels like I should.
With a short nod, he begins guiding me beneath the bed, so I get down on my hands and knees and crawl, flattening myself to my belly and slithering the rest of the way under. It’s extra dark, littered with stray toys and playing cards. The dust tickles my nose. Curling my body into a ball, I pull Bubbles to my cheek and let him collect my falling tears as my other hand fists the phone. Dad crouches lower, mouth parted like he’s about to speak, but his lips only tremble with words unsaid. He swipes a meaty paw down the center of his face, then ruffles his hair.
I think he’s about to leave me here, so I blurt out, “Mom said she’ll always protect me.”
Danger prickles my skin. I don’t feel safe.
And Mom isn’t here.
