The Scenario

Seth put down his pencil and leaned back in his chair. He balanced it skillfully on two legs while stretching his arms over his head. A little shape appeared in his doorway and Seth glanced over casually.

“Can you help me now?” pleaded his younger brother.

Seth groaned but eventually gathered himself up, pushed back from his desk, and rose with a yawn. His white t-shirt was wrinkled and stained, as were his baggy, striped pajama pants. His shaggy brown hair was sticking off in every direction above clever jade eyes. They peered down on his little clone, Mav, who stared back eagerly. Seth took Mav by the shoulder and shuffled him down the hallway.

“Alright, I’ll give you a hand, but only for a minute. I have to go to work and I hardly got my homework done.”

Maverick was twelve, five years younger than his brother. He beamed at Seth’s affection and thrived on his attention. He wanted nothing more than to catch up with Seth, to win their parents’ approval and admiration as he had done. Seth’s shadow fell across him as his brother sat on his unmade bed. He raised his eyebrows expectantly at Mav.

“What is it, squirt?”

Maverick scrambled up beside him.

“You said you’d help with my English project.”

“Ahhhh,” he sighed while flopping backwards with a little bounce. “Homework? I thought you needed help with your judo or tae kwon do or aikido or something.”

Mav crawled onto his brother’s stomach, eliciting a groan.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I play soccer.”

Seth chuckled and Maverick bounced. “I know, I’m just messing with you. What’s your project on?”

Maverick launched into his ideas for a diorama on Lord of the Flies and Seth listened patiently. He made the little standup, two sided pyramid that was causing Mav so much trouble. Holding the corners of the paper together while the glue dried, Seth caught a glimpse of the face of his watch.

“Shoot! Maverick, I told you to tell me when it was quarter ’til! I’m so late.” He sprang up, the paper sticking momentarily before the damp, goopy edges peeled apart. Maverick trotted after him as he darted back next door to his room and frantically began ripping off clothes while simultaneously pulling new pieces from his dresser.

“Honestly Maverick, this was not cool, I could get fired for this. I don’t know why you do this!” Seth was increasingly agitated, hopping on one foot to pull on his jeans. His little brother toed the hideous orange shag carpet guiltily.

“You said you would help, I didn’t want you to leave until we were done.”

“Gah, you are so selfish! It’s not like I’m never coming back.” He was done, stuffing his arms into a worn, tan canvas jacket on his way out. “Move,” he snapped, knocking Maverick out of his way. “Mom! I’m going!” he hollered as he leapt down the stairs.

In the white tile kitchen, their mother glanced up to the clock from where she was finishing her turkey sandwich; with mustard because it has less fat than mayonnaise.

“You’re late, Seth.”

“Yeah, talk to your other son about that.”

Maverick, standing at the top of the stairs, could hear the annoyance in Seth’s voice. His brother scowled at him on his way out the front door.

* * * * * * *

Seth sat straight up in bed. It was still dark, his panicked breathing the only sound on the whole silent block. It was a stupid dream, he thought, laying back down rigidly, I’m wearing those pajamas now, I didn’t even own them then. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and tried to convince himself to go back to sleep.

He watched the sunlight snake in through the slits in his dented metal blinds. He stayed there, listening to the people on their early commutes, until he heard his mom get up. She always got up early. Seth didn’t bother to even run a hand through his hair, he just grabbed his worn-out flannel robe and shuffled out. He kept his eyes on his feet as he passed the closed door, just in case it was open. It never was.

“Seth, you’re up awfully early, is something the matter?”

She always asked that. If you walked into a room without some goofy grin plastered on your face she immediately thought you were having a mental breakdown. But Seth was used to her concern.

“No. I couldn’t sleep.”

Her eyebrows almost touched in the middle of her forehead, the wrinkles knew their places well.

“Again? Is it happening again?”

Seth waved his oversized sleeve at her.

“No, Mom, I just couldn’t sleep. Is that a crime?”

If he’d spoken to her like that before, he would have gotten his keys taken away for a month. Not these days though.

“I’m sorry, Seth, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

Seth regretted his decision to come downstairs and made a u-turn to head back up to his room. He crawled back under his blankets until noon, but he still couldn’t sleep.

Downstairs, alone in the white tile kitchen, sitting at the scuffed cherry-wood round table, Tammy’s well-trained wrinkles were working overtime. The cupboard in front of her still held the half used container of decaf coffee from when she’d been in her healthy diet faze. Seemed so silly now, as she sipped her robust, black French roast, silly, since everyone dies anyhow. Summer was coming to a close, which meant three things. One, she would have to go back to work with a new batch of students; two, Seth would leave for his first year of college; and three, it had almost been a year. That was why she was more critical of Seth’s behavior. Tammy was a good mother, she did not want to send her baby out on his own into a stage of life as turbulent as college if he wasn’t up to the challenge. She was daydreaming in the soft morning light, which had turned her clinical kitchen a warm yellowish-rose. She and Carl, her husband, had never thought they would have to worry about Seth in school. They went seventeen years in ignorance to what having a teenage son was really like, seventeen years laughing at struggling parents on sitcoms while they sat on their lumpy, green couch wondering how the writers came up with that stuff. They were no longer in the dark. Come to think of it, they no longer watched television together either.

Seth was everything a parent could wish for. He was before; he hadn’t been since it happened. Sure, he tried, he thought he was holding things together pretty well, he thought he was hiding his pain, but Tammy was a good mother. The scars on his arms and chest had healed to nothing but raised lines, if only all of them were so simple.

Tammy heard Carl tromping down the stairs. He rounded into the kitchen while buttoning the last few buttons on his crisp, blue shirt. She held out a travel mug of coffee for him to grab on his way by.

“Where’s Seth? I thought I heard him earlier.”

“You did, he couldn’t sleep. I guess he went back to bed.”

Carl veered from his traditional path, looking at his wife with a furrowed brow. She just sighed.

“Did he say anything? Is he alright?” Seth’s father prodded.

“He says he’s fine.” She stared into the stained ring at the bottom of her empty cup. “I think we should make an appointment for before he starts classes.”

Carl’s round, buzzed head nodded. “I’ll stop in at lunch.”

Thanks to the air conditioner, Seth could stay buried in his blankets even in the middle of a muggy August day. His back was to the door, his unblinking eyes glued to the digital red numbers looming on his nightstand. He’d created a kind of pseudo-night by putting the blades of his blinds upside down. 12:03. Four more days. That was it. After that, there would be no more firsts. The idea rolled him on his back and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Seth didn’t bother to move when there was a courtesy knock on his open door.

“Come in.”

Carl hovered on the threshold when he saw that Seth was so obviously unhappy. Not knowing what to do, he bustled across the room and twisted the little rod that opened the shades. Seth put his hands down and blinked.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

Carl’s hands balled into nervous fists. “It’s noon, Seth, it’s a wonderful day outside; you need to get up. Have you even eaten today?”

“Not hungry,” his son grumbled, pushing himself into a sit while leaning back on the headboard.

“I made an appointment for you with doctor Shartin.”

That caught Seth’s attention. He looked at his father crossly, dragging his legs out from beneath his covers. He planted his feet firmly on the floor.

“I don’t need to go talk, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine and you aren’t acting fine.” His expression softened. “We, your mother and I, we just don’t want you to go off to another state by yourself and-”

“So I’m not feeling so great today! Why is this such a big deal? Am I not allowed to have a bad day? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You can prove to me that you’re fine by going to the session,” Carl said in an and-that’s-final tone. He could feel Seth’s seething glare as he walked back to the door. With a hand on the knob, he turned, unable to lift his eyes from the floor.

“I don’t want to lose you too, Seth.”