Tomorrow was the day Alex had been looking forward to all summer. Mom and Dad were waiting for him back home in Washington. Alex had to leave them behind because, as his dad said, they could only afford one plane ticket right now. He could leave Grandma’s house and go back to school and see his friends and, most importantly, see Mom. Suddenly, Grandmother’s wrinkly fingers pinch his arm.
“Alex, are you listening? Don’t forget to give me a hug goodbye, okay? Alex!”
His finger keeps tracing little figures on the dusty window sill. One, two, three dinosaurs are all lined up, ready to attack until a small stick figure begins to emerge among the grey.
“I hope you know how much I’ll miss you,” she says.
The dinosaurs strike in a flurry of grey dust particles now flying about Alex’ head. He sticks out his tongue to catch the snow-like rain floating in the air. Clicking his teeth together with each dust flake, Alex pretends he is the Stegosaurus, ripping off leaves on bushes. His little train chair wobbles back and forth until the cloud settles.
Sighing, Grandma pretends not to notice, but instead slowly sits on the corner of the small twin mattress in the corner of the room. “What do you want for breakfast tomorrow? I can make those blueberry pancakes you love. I think I still have some berries left over from when we picked them at the farm.”
She watches the cowlick on the back of Alex’s head has he slowly shakes his head back and forth just like Robbie. “How about homemade pecan oatmeal? I can add some extra honey.”
The little finger returns to the window sill, tracing over the cracks in the sill where water ruined the white paint. No response.
“Okay, then,” Grandma says as she slowly pushes herself off the Thomas the Tank engine bedspread, “I need to get started on dinner anyway. You just sit and think about what you want. Name it, and I’ll make it.”
The old door creaks shut as she leaves, her light blue slippers scuttling along the carpeted floor to the kitchen. For once, Alex is alone. The window sill is boring, but boring doesn’t feel, especially since he will have to say goodbye to his Thomas trains tomorrow. The Flash action figure can’t hold his interest now, knowing that he will never see the bright yellow lightning bolts again. Yesterday he and Flash went on their last run together, jumping over dandelions in the front yard, zooming down the narrow side of the house where the neighbor’s nasty Rottweiler howled and howled, baring its teeth and jumping up to gouge the wooden fence with sharp claws. He held Flash out in front of him, protecting him from nasty noises, and squinting his eyes shut to go “supersonic” fast, as Grandma said. It was then that he had tripped over one of the knotty roots of the oak tree, falling hard. He scraped his knee, but Flash said it was okay. Alex didn’t need to cry. He just sniffled as Grandma put on the Hulk band aid. She can’t kiss it though. Only Mom can kiss band aid bruises and cuts.
Alex rests his head in his arms on the window sill, staring out at the neighbor’s yellow house and their dangling gutters where the squirrels always ran away. He must say goodbye, but not when Grandma says he should. Grandma won’t let him pack Thomas or Flash. Grandma says he can only pack the new shoes, socks, and tubes of toothpaste they bought at a giant store he liked calling “Wal-fart.” He had made farting noises with his lips the whole time Grandma dragged him around the store, buying the socks and things she thought Alex would need back home. She wanted to help his parents, but Dad always said no. He could take care of Alex. Dad knew how to buy food, cook, and clean, and Alex had never missed a day of school. Alex knew how to help him, too. Alex could get the newspaper, but only on Sundays. He could brush his hair and teeth, and he even knew how to do the laundry, now that his dad had bought the new stepstool. But, most importantly of all, both Alex and Dad could take care of Mom, without Grandma.
Grandma wouldn’t know how much soup Mom wanted or even her favorite kind of bread (it was rye). His dad could lift Mom up into his arms, and gently place her back in bed, and best of all, Alex could raise her pillow, and help tuck her back in. Alex could sing her songs from music lessons, toot his birthday kazoo, and hold Mom’s hand when she cried. She cried a lot. Dad never would say what was wrong, but he didn’t need too. He and Alex could take care of her all by themselves.
Alex lifts his head as he sees one of the pesky squirrels chiding him through the glass, flicking its fluffy tail as if to say “If you are Flash’s best friend, you could catch me!” Alex looks over to the bed to see Flash, but he isn’t there anymore. Thomas is still safe, though, but he must say goodbye later. Right now, he must find Flash.
His chair topples over as he springs up to look for Flash. Under the bed? No. In the closet? No. Maybe he’s in the kitchen? But Grandma’s in the kitchen. Alex remembers how the Flash is so fast, he can become invisible when he runs. As the Flash’s best friend, he bets he can run past Grandma so fast, she won’t know he was there! He imagines her standing by the sink, peeling potatoes when voosh! A blast of wind, but no Alex.
Alex inches to the door, slowly turning the smooth crystal handle and peering out into the hallway—no Grandma. Carefully, he opens the door even more, until it is wide enough for when he comes running back. Now, all that’s left is to go “supersonic.” Lining up his grey socks even with the door frame, he closes his eyes, breathing slowly. Time goes slows to a crawl for the best friend of a superhero. A minute passes before he opens his eyes and lowers his head, focusing on his mission. Brace himself for the wind, a smirk plays across his lips thinking about Grandma’s messed up hair all in her face from the whirlwind in her kitchen. Flash would be proud.
Ready, set, go! He lowers himself to run faster and faster, thinking hard to make his legs go faster and faster around the bend in the hallway, now past the powder blue living room, and now, to go unseen in the kitchen. He flies into the kitchen, now actually feeling the breeze tickle his cheeks and his burning legs as he dashes into the kitchen, until, catastrophe. His socks slip and slide on the linoleum floor, launching him into a nearby chair. With a thud, his knees slam into the floor as his chest hits the chair’s cushion. His face lands in the soft padding, but suddenly he has no air. Breathing quickly, the sharp pain in his chest soon subsides, leaving his knees and chest to ache. Both his knees hurt, even though one has the band aid. If only Mom could kiss it.
Flash: he was here for Flash. Slowly standing up, he hopes Grandma didn’t hear the loud noise from the kitchen, and that maybe he could still sneak away. Peering over the island, he sees no one by the sink or the fridge. No one is by the table or the counter where the red mixer sits. No one is there, not even Flash. He remembers Dad’s booming voice, “Re-trace your steps! Go find where you last remember it.” He goes to the screen door to the backyard, expecting it to be locked, but instead, it’s open. Stepping onto the back deck, he scans the oak tree’s roots, looking for his best friend, but no one is there. The only sound he hears is the giant wooden swing, creaking as it rocks back and forth. Flash can swing?
Looking over at the swing, he sees Flash, but he is not alone. Thin arms are wrapped around him, holding him close. Grandma’s head is bent low, lines of skin fold under her chin and on her forehead. Her wrinkles looked deep in her skin, especially around her mouth, probably from years of yelling at Dad, thinks Alex. He notices her pants aren’t folded at the same height, and her shirt has little familiar wet dots down the front, the same way Mom’s shirt looks after hours of sitting stooped over and crying.
“Grandma?”
A loud sniffle. She jerks her head up, to look straight into Alex’s eyes. He sees the trails of tears curving around her pointy nose. She needs someone, like how Mom needs someone. But Dad isn’t here right now. Alex will have to do.
Slowly, he walks forward, hoping she won’t notice that he’s wearing socks outside. The swing slowly stops, and Alex climbs on, clenching the red and white cushion to pull himself up. Grabbing the blue blanket on his armrest, he gets on his knees to wrap it around Grandma, the way he wraps the pink blanket around Mom. At first he reaches for Flash, but then stops. Grandma needs a friend right now more than he does. But Alex doesn’t know what to say. With Mom, she either cried so hard she sat hiccupping for air or she lay on her side, blank, staring at the ceiling. Grandma, though, wasn’t doing either of these. He decides not to say anything, but dangles his feet off the edge of the swing, waiting for Grandma to start rocking again.
“I miss your dad, Alex,” Grandma says as she bends her knees to swing. She looks over at her garden, but Alex knows she’s really seeing something else. “You know, he was just like you. And I don’t mean that you look exactly like him, but you both act the same.”
Alex waits as the swing creaks. He has never heard stories of when his dad was a little boy. All Dad talks about is taking care of Mom or teaching English at the high school for too little money and for too much time.
“Your dad, my Robbie, was always stubborn. He and I rarely got along, but he had such an imagination. He could make soldiers from paper towel rolls, pretend that the old oak tree was a wise ancient spirit, or that he was a detective, nosing around the backyard with a magnifying glass mostly burning ants and blaming the crickets. He threw fits, and would lock himself in his room for hours when I told him he had to come inside or to stop burning leaves in the house. He was impossible, but he was mine.”
Grandma runs her thumb across Flash’s mask, feeling the grooves of the eyes and the pointy tips of the lightning bolts.
“Was Flash his friend too?”
“No. His friend was Armando, the next door neighbor who lived in that yellow house. The two of them would do almost everything together. But I haven’t seen either him or your dad in years. They both left for college and never came back. I think Armando went down to Arizona to work, and your dad met your mom and moved away with her to Washington and had you.”
She says it all so matter-of-factly, Alex hopes she is feeling better, until he looks down and sees how hard she is squeezing Flash. It’s a good thing Flash is a superhero and that he is so strong, or Grandma would have hurt his arms.
“Grandma, why does Mom cry all the time?”
At first she looks startled, but the swinging continues.
“Your dad told me I wasn’t allowed to tell you, and if I do, he said he won’t let me see you again.”
“That doesn’t sound like Dad. He is honest and works all day, and now he even lets me help with Mom. I just want to know how to help him more. If I am super helpful, he will say ‘Thanks, Grandma’ and ‘I’m proud of you, Alex’ and let me come back to be with Flash and Thomas and you.”
Grandma smirks slightly, pulling the blanket closer.
“He is hard working and honest, yes, but he also doesn’t want to hurt you.”
“But he can’t hurt me! How could he hurt me?”
“Alex, I’m sorry. What I meant to say was that your dad doesn’t want you to know because he thinks if you know, you will be sad like him.”
“Sad? But he is not sad. He is…”
“Hon, listen. Robbie, your dad, never cried in front of me if he could help it, even when he was your age. You should know, because you don’t cry either. You are both very brave, but you should know that tears don’t always mean someone is sad, just like a smile doesn’t always mean someone is happy. People wear masks, like Flash, only instead of getting super powers, they hide how they feel. You even put on a mask today and didn’t realize it, because I have a sneaking suspicion you’re going to miss it here.”
One of her arms slips from under the blanket and reaches around Alex, pulling him close. Alex bites his lip. Grandma won’t tell me. She knows about Mom, but she won’t tell me. Though Alex would really like to snuggle closer into her hot chocolate hug, he gently grabs Grandma’s arm and moves it back to her side, tucking the blanket back around her. Grandmas can’t kiss band aids.
“Alex?”
“I don’t wear masks and neither does Dad.”
“Sweetie, I’m trying my best, but I want to see you again. That was the condition Robbie had. I love you too much.”
“But you don’t love me! If you loved me, you would tell me.”
“Of course I love you, Alex! But I also love Robbie and I don’t want him to take you away from me now that I just got to see you again. I’ve waited seven years to see you, and I am not about to give that up.”
“I can come back when I’m older. Dad can’t keep me when I am as fast as Flash.”
“You can’t run from those you love. Believe me, your dad has tried.”
“You won’t tell me why Mom won’t stop crying, so why should I believe anything you say?”
“Alex, just let me try to finish explaining.”
“No! I won’t be sad to leave you, or Flash, or Ohio. I can wear a mask just like Dad. I don’t love Flash anymore. You used him to make me find you. I don’t love Thomas, or the oak tree, or the yellow house, or the swing. And I don’t love you!”
Alex leaps off the swing, darting inside. Reaching his bedroom, the door’s echoing slam rings in his ears. Wrapping the Thomas covers around himself, he slowly slides under the bed frame, wishing his superpower was invisibility instead of speed to hide his tears.
Grandma knows about Mom. She knows why Mom opens blank books and stares for hours. She knows why Mom walked with him to the bus stop on his first day of Kindergarten, standing by the rusty mailbox that wouldn’t stop wobbling, dressed in her PJs. She knows why Mom was in the same place, still standing next to the weeds and mailbox, when the bus came back that afternoon, still in her violet nightgown. Why was Mom so different? Why would she never smile, but stare, stare, stare! He had searched the ceiling for hours with her, laying side by side, trying to find the hidden mystery like a treasure map or a ghost. There was nothing—nothing but chipping paint and a fan covered in a thick layer of dinosaur dust. Alex hiccups as he rubs his face into his blanket as he tries to stop his now raw cheeks from stinging.
“Mommy, I miss you.”
Grandma never comes to find him. She never leaves the swing. Alex listens to the monotonous creaking of the wood and iron links that echoed from the porch and all the way into his room. The air is warm and his blanket is so soft and cushy, wrapping him in Mom’s almost a too tight hug. He fights his heavy eyelids, blinking in slow motion.
“Alex, time to wake up. Are you ready to go?”
Breathing in deeply until he feels like his chest might pop like a birthday balloon, Alex opens his eyes to see Grandma sitting on the edge of his mattress, Flash still in hand. How did he get out from under the bed? She must have moved him. New anger floods him remembering his chat with her.
“Your flight is in an hour and a half, so we’d better hurry. I’ve got you all packed.”
“I’m not talking to you. You know about Mom.”
She lets out a long low sigh, mumbling something about Robbie under her breath. “Okay, Flash, could you please tell Alex that he needs to get on his socks and shoes and to meet me by the car in five minutes.”
Grandma lower’s her voice, adding a deep bravado and gusto, as she makes Flash say, “Sure thing, Wonder Grandma! Alex, you need to be ready super quick, like me! Just zoom on into your shoes and socks, okay?”
“Flash, tell Grandma I’m not stupid. She’s making you be bossy to me because she thinks I still love you, but I’m a big kid, now. I know when someone is lying.”
“Aw, c’mon, Alex. What if I could go with you? Would you love me again?” asks Flash.
Silence. Alex just stares at the wall, hoping Grandma will go away and leave Flash. It seems to work when Mom does it. But she doesn’t go or even move. She just looks at Alex like she is searching for clues to his treasure map.
“I’ve been selfish, loving you so much and trying to be able to see you next summer, but now I see that there’s nothing I can do to prevent you from finding out, one way or another. And if you go angry, I know you wouldn’t want to see me again anyway. Just promise me you won’t forget me, okay?”
Alex finally turns from the wall to look at Grandma. Her eyes as shiny and her face is all red and puffy from crying just like his. Alex nods yes slowly, searching her wrinkles for answers.
“Alex, you are a big brother.”
Alex giggles, a smirk playing on his lips. “No, I’m not! It just me and Dad and Mom!”
“Alex! Just listen. Please.” Alex nods, realizing that his grandma isn’t joking.
“Your mom and Dad have been trying to give you a little brother or sister for years now, but so far your mom hasn’t been able to have any more kids. Last August, your mom had a miscarriage.”
“A what? Why didn’t she have horses?”
Grandma smiles for a moment, but it fades just as quickly. “It means the baby died, Alex. She died inside your mom before she could be born, and now your mom is very, very sad. Something went wrong in your mom’s tummy, and there was nothing the doctors or her could do. By the time they realized, it was too late.”
“I had a sister?”
“Yes. You had a sister. She’s in Heaven now, where she is safe. But your mom is very sick because of it. She has something called depression, where she can’t stop feeling sad. That’s why you came here, Alex. Your dad wanted to protect you so you wouldn’t see your mom so upset all the time. He sent you here against his will for the summer so he and the doctors could help your mom, but the condition was you were not supposed to know about your mom.”
“But why didn’t he want me to see you before that?”
“Your Grandpa and I separated just before you were born, and he was sad and angry because he loved both of us, and didn’t want us to split up. Robbie still won’t forgive either of us for our divorce, and as punishment, he wouldn’t let either of us see you, that is, until your mom got sad.”
Alex sits in silence, thinking. Grandma goes back to looking at Flash, squeezing his different muscles before she looks at her watch. “Oh my goodness, we’re late! Quick, grab your shoes and get in the car!”
The whole car ride, Alex watches the blur of grass on the ground, wondering what he should say to Grandma, now that she told him and what he should do now about Mom. Should he comfort her or cry with her? Did the doctors help? He is so lost in thought, Alex doesn’t realize where he is until he looks up to the plastic smile of the stewardess stooping down to chirp her name. Where is Grandma?
“Goodbye, Alex,” says the soft voice from behind as a weary hand rests on his shoulder. “Promise you won’t forget little old me?”
Turning around, he scans his Grandmother from head to toe, memorizing every detail, from her floral print purse to her greying eyebrows knit tightly together. “Okay, but Grandma, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to run away or to get so mad and wear my mask, but I need to know. I want Mom to be better.”
“Honey, I know. And she will get better, but you also need to take care of you,” she says, pulling a familiar toy from out of her purse. “And don’t forget to tell Flash he needs to write to me.”
Alex reaches out, not for Flash, but to give her the hug he promised. “I promise Flash and I will never forget. I love you, Grandma.”