My Father's Limbs

Normally, it would have been locked shut. I had never once seen that be forgotten. The mistake reignited the lingering curiosity I’ve always had towards the white box. Anticipation for the unknown surged up into my chest as my fingers lingered. Finally, this was going to happen. My father’s warnings flew out of my memories as the lid opened. A confusing few seconds passed before my brain processed the sight. It was Horror. Cold and Chilled. Segmented yet Whole. This was a secret horde. At the top of this pile my eyes found a leg. It must have belonged to a woman, because even with the frost I could see the hot pink toenails. My hands reached for it as if they needed to confirm if it was real. However, my brain pulled them back. I did not need to know if it was real. If anything below it was real. Instead, I needed to grab the batteries I had come in here for the first place and then leave. The lock on the cooler clicked shut and the slam of the detached shed’s door followed soon after. Almost as soon as I had made it back into the house my mother found me. “Did you find the batteries?” I nodded my head silently and handed them over to her. There was an incredibly bright smile on her face. “Good, your father would hate coming home from work to a broken television remote.” I could only nod my head. It was one of the few things he would get angry about. He said he needed to put his feet up after a long day’s work or else he could never fall asleep that night. “Jacob?” My eyes shifted from the living room’s television screen and back to my mother’s face. Confused but still smiling. “Sorry, mom. Just thinking about the game on tonight.” She chuckled. “You know it’s during your father’s weekly programming.” I nodded my head slowly. “Can I go to Mark’s tonight to watch it?” She shook her head no. “It’s a school night.” My mother turned to point to the kitchen. “Besides, I’ve been cooking all day for this dinner.” My brain wasn’t working right. I couldn’t seem to remember what dinner she was talking about. She sighed. “Your father’s craft group? Remember?” Right. I was supposed to remember that. I nodded my head slowly. “Yea, right. Of course, I remember.” My mother rolled her eyes at me. “I know you don’t like Mr. Waterford but you’re going to have to be polite this time at the table.” I replied as quickly as I could to her. “That’s because he’s creepy.” I could see in her eyes that a part of her agreed with me. Even if it was the part of her that would never admit it out loud. “He’s just a little odd is all. He didn’t have an easy upbringing like the rest of us.” I found myself swallowing as I remembered what she meant. Mr. Waterford grew up in the foster care system. He bounced from home to home until he ended up in my father’s house. The two had always been close since. Mr. Waterford had been the one to introduce my father to the craft club. “I know. I know.” I managed to grumble out. She pointed to the pile of dishes. “Help me set the table.” There was nothing in me that knew what to do at this point, so I just followed the instructions given. Slowly, absentmindedly, I arranged the table. My mother had put fresh hydrangeas in the center, so the plates were matched to it. White and purple. It was just like the colors of the box… The front door opened, and my father led the craft group in. “Betty, I’m home.” I watched my mother run to kiss my father on the cheek. “Charles.” The group chatted as she then helped them with their coats. My hair tousled by my father’s hand. I hadn’t even realized he had reached me. “Helping your mom finally, you brat.” His eyes felt different as they watched me nod my head slowly. “What’s up with you?” My mother’s voice cut in. “He’s upset about the game.” Mr. Gerber was the one to respond. “Oh, don’t be. The game is going to suck anyways.” Mr. Wilkes cut in next. “I can bring Chris over here tomorrow to watch it with you. Since he’s not seeing it either tonight.” My attention had turned back to the table, but I heard my mother’s reply. “Really? I thought Janice was also a fan?” He laughed. “Her parents came to town for dinner.” It took all my effort, but I did manage to zone out for the rest of dinner. I had never been happier to be asked to do the dishes. Everyone else would be in the living room and away from me. That was until bright red and blue lights came in through the window. Then the sound of sirens. I looked up quickly to see that the cops were at our neighbor’s house. They were right outside. My hands stopped what they were doing. “You’re wasting water.” A hand pressed on my shoulder and the worst voice of all blew into my ear. I couldn’t move anywhere. I saw an arm reach past me and turn the sink off. Mr. Waterford’s reflection was in the window. “Oh my. I wonder what’s happening over at the Thompsons?” I swallowed and stood there silently. My father’s voice calling out for him to come to the door. My eyes drifted downwards. There was no longer a plate in my hands but a leg. The sounds of breaking porcelain called attention to the kitchen as I dropped the plate. The sound of breaking porcelain called attention to the kitchen as I dropped the plate. My mother rushed over. “Jacob?” I took a breath before turning to look at her. “What’s going on?” She pulled me into a hug and started to pat my back like she does when she’s nervous. “It’s nothing to worry about. The neighbors just needed some help is all.” I leaned past her to look at my father with the cops. They seemed to be apologizing for bothering him. Mr. Waterford tilted his head to catch my eyes before smiling. “Don’t worry. Someone scared the neighbors is all.” I turned away from him and looked up at my mother. She was whispering to herself. “Oh, I do hope Clarisse is okay. That’s the second break in this month.” When she let go of me, I turned around back to the window. They would be okay, but what about us? What about the shed?