Minor Hysterics [liz]

I bled that night. Blood makes us remember we are not invincible, we do not last forever, and hurt when cut. It is our downfall—forgetting. Push it out of the mind and stay alive—survive. But all that life, warm and red, was spilled and left to dry.

A child is a gift, a joy to our tired and broken lives. Their simple need and perfect trust weakens our defenses, opening up doors for love to flood and overrun. But even in all their brilliance, they cannot give us what we need to be better; they shine a light on our good and our bad. That night I saw both.

They got home a few minutes past six with word he didnʼt have a great day, nor did he sleep well the night before. I went out to the car to pull him from his seat—wet tears, but no longer any sobs. We went inside to chase the cat and follow colored balls across the room. Excitement, laughter, and love: I never would have known he had a bad day. I sat on the ground and fed him orange mush, stars, and drink. I changed him fresh and held him on the bed, Daddy beside and bottle in mouth. For a moment, calm and still.

BANG, BANG, BANG on the door.

He got up to get the door. I held back with the child, heart pounding, “I donʼt like the sound of that.”

I couldnʼt hear much but a woman loud and angry.

“Whereʼs your phone?”
“I donʼt know.”
“I called you several times and you didnʼt answer.”
“I must have left it in the car.” He goes to the car, opens the door, pulls from the middle compartment. “See! I forgot it in the car.”
“You knew I would be worried about him. You knew I would call....”

She went on ranting while her ten year old son waited in the car. The drive from house to house familiar but no less tiring, mother righteous and enraged—the place they were supposed to call home. He watches from behind darkened glass as dreams are dimmer and dimmer. A boy, but her man; he tries to fill what she lacks. He waits more than any of us; he longs for more than momentary peace.

“Give me my son.”
“Come on. Donʼt do this.”
“Give me my son.”
He sighs and walks into the house. He goes to the hallway, grabs the boy from my arms and passes him to mom. She grabs the boy, turns and walks toward the car. Big brother takes the boy and straps him in safely while she drives away.

The door shuts, the blood falls, and no one speaks.