Nancy


Nancy brushed her hair behind her ears and said, "John, it's time for work. Please go. Christopher and I will have a good day." John looked around in the kitchen and saw the shattered phone mount. He felt as though he had awoken to himself and felt disgust in his stomach. He curled his lips as he grabbed his lunch and left for work. John said nothing as he passed from the kitchen and through the doorway outside. The screen door creaked as it shut behind him.

Once a moment had passed, Nancy returned to her seat at the table and took a gulp of coffee that had now become cold. Christopher sat at the table beside her. He grabbed the Game Informer magazine and thumbed through its pages. Nancy noticed as he paused on the Mortal Kombat 3 section. Christopher leaned forward, something caught his interest, and she enjoyed it.

Nancy set the cup down and said, "you know, it's October twenty-seventh. That game is probably already at the store," her heart fluttered as she smiled, "we can go pick it up if you want to." She reached across the table and patted Christopher's hand. He withdrew from her touch and closed the magazine.

Christopher said, "I don't want to, and dad wouldn't let me play it anyway." Nancy's hand hung in the air. She reminded herself that right now, Christopher needed respect more than anything else. She understood she had to respect why her stepson was grieving and allow him to do so. Before he left the kitchen, she called for him to wait.

Nancy felt a knot in her throat, and her face felt hot as she said, "I love you, Christopher. If you need someone, I'll be here. I'll always be here." Christopher turned away and walked up the stairs to his room. Nancy sat for a moment and bit her lip. Her hands quivered as her stomach turned. The coffee sat cold, and the house quiet. Once more, she reminded herself that he was grieving the loss of his mother. The sting of rejection stung no less.

Christopher climbed up the stairs and threw himself upon his bed. He had exhausted whatever tears he had left to cry over the last few years. He couldn't cry anymore, and the world seemed cold and gray. The video games weren't fun, and his new friends didn't understand his agony. Christopher felt that no one understood his suffering, not even his father. He closed his eyes and said, "I promised that I would stop playing video games if you made it go away. Please, let her go." He cast his mind back to a few nights before his mother died.

His mother held his hand and squeezed it. Christopher promised he would never play his video games again. This was the payment he offered for his mother's life. In his heart, he felt he had done all he could do to save his mother from the clutches of death. A few days had passed since then, and one night in the midnight hour, John received a call from the hospital.

When his father delivered the news that she had passed in the middle of the night, Christopher sat in shock. He made the bargain a few days prior, and despite tucking the games away, his mother still died. In the world of this child, who was six at that time, he was the cause of his mother's death: he didn't offer a better trade. John told him that flu and pneumonia take out thousands of people each year. It was her time to go, but Christopher didn't listen. How could he? His offer wasn't good enough.

And now, he looked out of the window from his bed. The sun fell against the horizon. Nancy poked her head into the room every so often. At dinner time she offered him a happy meal: chicken nuggets and fries. They sat atop his dresser; cold and untouched. The moon cast its silver glow into his room. He watched the thin branches of trees sway against the wind. A slight scratch against his windowsill broke the silence.

Christopher sat up in his bed and looked at his windowsill. A red rose sat on its edge, but he couldn't remember seeing anyone outside his window. His arms shook and his legs wobbled as he arose from his bed. He approached the window and saw the full body of the rose. There wasn't a ladder outside, nor was there anyone moving about. A slight glimmer of something caught his attention in the house beside his. In the bedroom across the way stood a rosebush no taller than he was.

Flecks of blue dust swirled around the rosebush, and then dissipated. Christopher pressed his eyes shut and shook his head. He reminded himself this was probably a dream. Once he peeled his eyes open, his heart raced, and his throat became dry. There were many beautiful red roses. But Christopher couldn't understand why there was a rosebush in the haunted house next door. It sat in front of the bedroom window and seemed to peer into his room. He felt as though the bush was there for him, and these roses were his to take.

He didn't care much for flowers, but this was different. Christopher looked down and gripped the window. He pushed it up and popped open the screen. As he reached forward for the rose, he looked into the house next door and noticed the rosebush had disappeared. His hand trembled as he grabbed the rose. Against the moonlight, he turned the rose and a subtle waft of blue glittering dust fell from its petals.

Christopher closed the window and returned to his bed at once. Sleep took him, but he did not have a dream. The rose continued to glow until the sun woke the world. His rest remained undisturbed by nightmares or dreams of longing. He turned in his bed late into the morning and awoke. John and Nancy noticed that Christopher slept longer than he usually did and let him be.

Once Christopher woke up, Nancy greeted him with a plate of pancakes, glass of milk, and bacon. John had left for work, but he left a note for his son. Beside Christopher's plate of pancakes sat the note. It read: son, I am sorry for my behavior yesterday. I would like to talk to you about it in person, but I didn't expect you to sleep for so long. Remember: Nancy and I both love you very much and we only want what's best for you. I picked up that new fighting game on the way home from work. You can play it, just don't go out fighting. It's just a game and remember that. I love you more than anything in the world, love, Dad.

Nancy rocked fromside to side and fidgeted with her fingertips. She said, "we can play it now ifyou want? I can set everything up." Christopher ignored her request and ate thefood set out before him. He slurped up the pancakes and the syrup atop them.Nancy stood still, eager for his response. Once his plate was bare and hisglass empty, Christopher pushed the tray of food away. He thought of therosebush and needed to know if it was still there. 

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