Twenty-Nine
Carter
10 years old
T he key burned a hole in my pocket.
I ate my sandwich, strumming Dad’s guitar thoughtfully. An idea was forming. I could almost taste it.
The key burned a hole in my pocket.
A light bulb went on, and words began to fall from my lips. I tried them out, singing them softly.
“I’m calling for an angel to come save her.
She’s all I got, and I can’t mend her.”
No, that didn’t go together.
“Stupid. So stupid.”
I frowned, strumming the cords again, as the key burned a hole in my pocket.
Just as soon as the idea came, it ran away from me again. Just out of grasp, the inspiration fled, and I was lost once again.
“How do people write this stuff?” I wondered, setting the guitar down, as the key burned a hole in my pocket.
It was a legit question.
How do they pick up an instrument and create something out of nothing? The amount of inspiration they’d need—
“I can’t even rhyme words together,” I continued to mumble.
I grabbed my empty plate and removed my lunchbox from my bag. Mom always hated when I didn’t put it in the sink for her to rinse. She said it would end up smelling bad. At least she would have one less thing to complain about when she saw it.
I walked out of my bedroom and stopped at the stairwell. I looked at her closed door, contemplating waking her up to sing. She’d spent the afternoon with me when I got home from school before she wanted to nap. We had a nice time singing. She wrapped an arm around me, holding me tight before her tears started. I knew not to bring that up. I pretended she didn’t cry, and she soon excused herself from the room.
The key burned a hole in my pocket.
It’d been some hours since. She wouldn’t mind if I woke her up. She was good at rhyming. She might know some words.
I walked down the stairs instead, opting to put the lunchbox away first before I pestered her. In the kitchen, I decided to take an extra step and rinse it myself. I scrubbed it and set it on the dishrack, and then I dried my hands, as the key burned a hole in my pocket.
She was going to be happy I did something. Maybe she’d give me a real smile. I hadn’t seen one of those in a long time.
I was just about to go up the stairs when the phone rang. By the fourth ring, I picked it up and answered.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hey, buddy,” replied Dad. “What’re you guys up to?”
“I’m making a song,” I told him. “I can’t get the rhymes right, though.”
“That’s why you have to keep practicing. Is Mom helping you out? She hasn’t called me yet and it’s not like her.”
“No, she’s still in her room.”
He was quiet for a moment. “What is she doing, Carter?”
“I think she’s sleeping.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you go and check?”
“Sure.”
I walked up the stairs with the phone held to my ear. I kept trying to rhyme things in my head with each step.
What rhymes with step?
Hep? Pep?
“Did you hide that key, by the way?” Dad then asked. “I gave you it in the morning because I’m staying back.”
I paused outside the bedroom door. “Yeah, it’s in my pocket.”
“Pull it out for me.”
I dug my hand in the pocket I put the spare key in. When I felt nothing, I confusedly swapped hands with the phone and dug into my other pocket.
Nothing again.
“Carter?” Dad pressed on the other end, his voice sounding strained and anxious.
“I…I put it in my pocket,” I swore to him. “It’s gone.”
“Oh, God,” I heard him say under his breath. “Okay, look, I’m coming home right now. Don’t open the door. Just stay in your room, alright?”
“Alright.”
He got off the phone, and I stared at the door for some time.
There was no key burning a hole in my pocket.
Why?
“Mom?” I called out to her.
He told me not to answer, but…
“Mom?”
I started to worry.
I put my hand on the knob and turned. The door creaked open, and nothing but darkness greeted me. The curtains were closed, the bed was messy, and she wasn’t in it.
I looked around the room as I walked in. Light flooded the bottom of the closed bathroom door, and I walked toward it.
“Mom?”
No answer.
I stopped in front of the bathroom door and pressed my ear against it.
Nothing.
My heart skipped a beat.
A bad feeling came over me.
I put my hand on the knob again, and I turned it. Pushing the door open, I stood still as I took in the sight before me.
The medicine cabinet was open and empty. Pill bottles lay scattered across the floor.
“Mom?” I trembled out, feeling weak all over.
Mom was on the floor, and she wasn’t moving.
Your heart was supposed to speed in such an event, but mine…stopped altogether.
My eyes hurt and I—
Dad.
I wanted Dad.