Janet:

Where was my boy? Was he hurt? Was he alone? Was he even... I couldn't think of the last possibility.

Nathan was out to work at this time.

I sat on the couch in the middle of my home's living room. I was surrounded. The white walls covered in pictures of a little boy in every stage of his life. His baseball team, his favorite shirt, first, second, third grade... film was expensive, but every moment was worth it. His books were neatly stacked next to a small group of magazines. Among the magazines was an article I was studying to see how to help a child raise a puppy- that was for Christmas. If I had gone into the kitchen his drawings were on the fridge and his remaining unwrapped presents we forgot a few days before were hidden under the sink.

It was all I could do not to go mad in that house all alone these days. Don't get me wrong, I could have figured out things to do on my own but that wasn't necessary much of the time. For crying out loud I was a mother, normally I just had to wait a few minutes before the next crisis or for something silly to happen. But now it was like the house was haunted by the ghost of a nine-year-old boy who never came home. I was in hell. How many times had I asked Thomas for peace and quiet? This was a quiet hell.

His pictures were on all of the walls like they were asking me to play, to help, to love... he loved me so much back. "Help me" I cried to God. Those walls were closing in.

I picked up a small toy Thomas had forgot to put away when he last went to school. It was a birthday present.

I pushed my thoughts to try to get relief. I rolled the car along the couch arm. "Vroom, vroom!" I shouted to myself and remembered.

(***)

Thomas had just finished eating his cake, as was rather obvious from the chocolate all over his face. I had since cleaned up but not like there hadn't been any cake on my face at some point, he did learn from the best how to scarf something down after all!

My half-pint offspring was out in the yard playing with his toy cars, including the new one I just got him. His jeans were covered in grass from the last time Nathan and he had roughhoused, as were mine from when I helped him gang up on Nathan. His green shirt might have had the same stains, but I couldn't tell.

Okay, so the car was my husband's idea. I wanted to get him a toy that had the image of a large bluebird. It reminded me of one of the old storybooks he used to love about a bluebird and his friend a small rabbit. Nathan said he would probably be happier with a plain red car and... it wasn't as cute, but Nathan was probably right on that point. Besides, my son didn't need the help being cute.

"Vroom vroom!" he shouted. I realized of course, as any good mother, that something was missing from this scene. ME! I moved around behind him and walked quietly. "RRRRR!" I heard him exclaim, impersonating the squealing brakes of a car. It was at that moment I accidentally stepped on a twig. He paused. His mistake.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I grabbed his left leg and pulled him into the air. He screamed and laughed. "Happy birthday short stack!" I shouted.

Still upside down the kid didn't miss a beat. "Ya know, technically I wasn't born until three hours from now."

My husband Nathan walked over at this moment. "Of course she wouldn't remember something like that, not like she was there or anything."

I shook my head. "Oh, I was more present than either of you two." My son was quiet for a moment, thinking about this one.

"I was present..." he said with a pause.

"Do you remember it?"

"Well no but..."

"Well if you were there you would have remembered, trust me, I made a lot of noise and this thing about the size of a watermelon came out of me."

He blinked looking at me. Still trying not to be lost in my train of thought, which was quite a doomed voyage by any standards. He replied, "hard to believe I was ever that small huh?"

"Oh you weren't, you were always about this size, you came out after the watermelon," I replied doing my best to keep my poker face.

Nathan, grabbing up a ball from the ground shouted over to the two of us, "And let me tell you, that was one strange pregnancy." He started tossing the baseball in the air.

By the look on my son's face, my train of thought had finally achieved its goal of colliding with a speed train going the other direction. "No... no, no, no..." He was lost. "Daddy, if I were to study women at the library, do you think I would ever figure out mom?"

"I think the people at NASA would have a hard time with that one," Nathan commented.

I was kinda surprised at what did and didn't faze this kid. He was STILL upside down, but that didn't seem to affect him much at the moment after all science stuff was being talked about. "Hey that reminds me, Dad, did you hear how fast that rocket is gonna have to go to get to the moon? Mach 25 I heard."

"Darn quick," I opted. "Do you think Rocket Man could beat it?"

Thomas chuckled. "Of course, he's Superman." Thomas looked at Nathan again. "You know what would happen if they ever fired a missile going that fast at something?"

Nathan shook his head. "I think you just figured out how to beat the Viet Cong."

The boy paused for a minute, watching us both. Holding him in the air I was actually still trying to figure how what the next step in my master plan was. It went something like this: step one, grab kid, step two, hold kid upside down, step three, step four laughing and screaming... maybe working on step three should have come up- "BOOM!" Thomas shouted. As his arms went out his shirt fell down and I figured out step three.

"I see a tummy," I threatened. Thomas suddenly realized his grave error but it was too late. My left hand went in for its mission, tickling and making a little boy go crazy.

Still, through his squeals and gasps for air, he still managed to continue his previous conversation, no derailing that kid I tell you. Course he was fighting me with both hands. "They said the HAHAHa- moon has no-YEEP- air on it. It has no –AAAH-atmosphere." I stopped my assault for the moment.

Nathan came over to him and crouched down. "You know how you know all that right?" he asked. Thomas shrugged. "You are a nerd. You're upside down and being tortured and you're still rattling off facts."

"I'm not a nerd, I'm just smarter than you," Thomas replied.

My husband looked into the boy's eyes for a few moments. "Welp," he said, grabbing the boy's arms and gathering them into one hand as I grabbed his other leg and hugged both tight to my chest. "You asked for it."

I don't know why maybe not being able to fight back had an effect; this tickle assault had the boy's full attention.

(***)

The memory ended. When I came back there was the silence again. No laughing or screaming. If I didn't move the whole house would have been still. A quiet Saturday. Every mother knows that's not right. Not when you have a nine-year-old.

"Guess what Thomas," I said aloud. "I know something you probably don't. You're coming home. I don't know how, and I don't know when, but you're coming home. And then you're going to make a proper racket as is your job, which you're right behind on you little twerp. You know how I know what you don't? I guess I'm just smarter than you." I closed my eyes. "Lord please, make my house noisy again. I hate peace and quiet."

I wanted to be confident I was right. He was coming home.