Wednesday’s Child

Content warning - mildly offensive language

Wednesday, February 12, 2025

Wednesdays! So often people complain about Wednesdays. At the beginning of the day, it is an uphill climb to the top of the week. But by evening, the middle is in the past and, with a bit of luck, the rest of the week will be a an easy slide down to the weekend.

This year, I am embracing Wednesdays. My college classes end at noon on a Wednesday, and I can ride the buses back to my home, or rather the apartment building where I am staying with my uncle. 

When my classes end on a Wednesday, I buy myself a loaded bun from the food truck along with a can of soda. Instead of eating on campus, I run for the bus and within two minutes the number 37 comes rattling into sight. It’s a ten-minute ride to the exchange at the mall, where if my luck holds, I can catch the number 49 almost immediately. Sometimes I miss that bus and take a detour into the mall where I can window shop before catching the next bus, a thirty-minute ride.

Window shopping is all I can afford on my student budget. My loaded bun is my weekly treat, beckoning me from the bottom of my backpack to hurry on my way. It is only $5 for a bun and a soda, the Hump Day Hoagie! I wait until I am “home” to eat my lunch in front of the TV. By then it is past one o’clock in the afternoon and I am ravenous.

I use the term “home” loosely because it is not my home. It is the place where I am staying for now while attending college. Home is a small town up north, where I was raised by my mother who wants to support my desire to study robotics, but who does not have the financial means to do so. Fortunately, I have a scholarship that covers my tuition fees.

This is my second semester of my first year at college. There is no way I could live on campus or in any of the highly priced apartments or rooming arrangements that other students manage to enjoy or endure.

When Mom found out that this college had a robotics program, she excitedly informed me that Uncle Rob lived near there and that Uncle Rob had a spare bedroom that he was willing to rent to me at an affordable price. 

Well, what could I say? I wish that “near there” was not almost an hour away by bus and that the “affordable price” did not involve my unpaid labour in Uncle Rob’s building. Mom says the rent is covered. I wonder if any money exchanges hands at all, but I do not want to embarrass my mom by asking.

Uncle Rob is not actually my uncle. According to Mom he is her second cousin, so I guess that makes him my cousin too. Strangely, I had never heard of him until I was longing to come to this college and realized I did not stand a chance financially. 

In addition to the unpaid labour for Uncle Rob, I also work some evenings as a tutor. Uncle Rob has set me up with my own little office in the basement of his building where I can receive students or do online tutoring, as well as complete homework or study without distractions. 

Down here in this office, I have a tiny kitchenette, a table, and chairs, as well as a couch. I asked Uncle Rob if I could just use this space as my dorm. After all, this body of mine is only nineteen, in decent shape, and not opposed to sleeping on a couch. 

Uncle Rob got weird about that suggestion. He told me some bullshit story about the office space not being up to code as well as the fact that I couldn’t be down there between the hours of ten o’clock at night and six o’clock in the morning. Something about how it would interfere with his work.

I am not entirely sure what Uncle Rob’s work is. I mean, he does manage this apartment building, and he might even own it. The residents keep to themselves. The place is eerily quiet and seems uninhabited most of the time. I am the one who cleans the hallways every day and I hardly ever see anyone. 

The people I have seen are all adults. There are no signs of children or other students, although I am not surprised by the lack of students because we are so far away from the college. The only young people around here are the ones who come for tutoring.

Tutoring does not pay a large amount of money, but it does enable me to have a bit of a social life and to enjoy my Hump Day Hoagie, like the one I just finished a few hours ago. After eating today, I fell asleep in front of the TV in the apartment. My uncle is hardly ever home except for a few hours in the evenings, a time when I usually tutor or clean. So, it works out for us that we can share the space without really having to share the space at the same time.

During my nap this afternoon I had some wild dreams. Disturbing. I dreamed about my brain being hooked up to machines. Worse yet, I woke up with a headache. I have been having a few headaches recently. I have also been having some strange dreams. I cannot always recall them, but sometimes when I wake up, I feel physical discomfort or aching sensations on various parts of my body, bordering on pain at times.

I chat and text with my mom regularly, but I am not going to tell her about my restless sleeps and weird dreams or my aches and pains. She would just worry. She is quite the worrier. That is because she has not had it easy in life. I know she wants a better life for me. So, I do not complain.

Since I cannot really confide in my mom and I never would confide in Uncle Rob, I have decided to keep a log of my symptoms. That way I can see if they get worse. But that log has now turned into this diary. I feel compelled to write about my daily experiences, not just about my ailments but also about life in general. I quite enjoy writing.

During last night’s phone call with Mom, I told her how I was enjoying Wednesdays. Her response was strange. She said that it made sense since I was Wednesday’s child! Then we had a good laugh about Wednesday’s child being full of woe – which is quite the opposite to me. I am matter of fact in my thinking, and happy to be a loner. But I am not full of woe.

At some point I suppose everybody ponders the old rhyme about the day of the week upon which they were born and whether that contributes to their personality or not. But here’s the thing: I was born on a Thursday. February 2, 2006. Mom must have got mixed up!

I should sign off now and get my cleaning work done before my student arrives for tutoring.

Thursday, February 13, 2025

The strangest thing happened last night. After walking my student out, I came back to this office to do some of my homework. Feeling tired, I lay back on the couch and fell asleep. I did not wake up until midnight, well after my “curfew” or required time to have vacated this basement.

I tried to go upstairs, but the door was locked to the stairwell and the elevator never responded to its call button. I was stuck down here. Not wanting to get caught by Uncle Rob, I came back to the office, locked the door, and turned off all the lights. Hiding out, I heard the strangest things. Suddenly it felt like half the building was down here in the basement. There were all kinds of comings and goings as well as a disturbing noise humming through the walls.

For the first time in years, I felt afraid. I wanted to get away, to run. But I was trapped! If I went back into the corridor, I would be seen for sure. At one point, somebody rattled the handle to this office, and it seemed like they were coming in. I heard keys jangling, but then somebody called out from afar and the person at the door, who I believe was my uncle, turned away. Luckily, he did not come back.

I lay under the couch for hours. It seemed ridiculous, like something out of a movie. But the danger was real. The noises were terrifying. Screams and yells combined with whirring noises of machines. Sometime around three o’clock in the morning, the sounds quieted down and I drifted in and out of an uncomfortable sleep until early morning.

I figured it was safe to leave the office shortly after six o’clock. Besides, I had a nine o’clock class and buses to catch. So, I quickly headed upstairs to shower and, unfortunately, was greeted by Uncle Rob as soon as I entered the apartment.

“Well look at you, Aidan,” he had said through the cereal he was scooping into his mouth. “Where the hell have you been? I hope she was worth it!”

Realizing that Uncle Rob thought I had spent the night with a girl, I then decided to go with that basic idea that I had been at a friend’s house. There was no way I could let on that I had been downstairs through the night.

“I just stayed at a friend’s house after a late night of studying,” I had replied, trying to sound genuine.

“Well, I just hope you used protection or else all your dreams might come shattering down and pattering all around you,” he had laughed crudely. “I guess you are a man now. Nineteen and all.”

“Studying,” I had reiterated as I headed to the shower. I really was not interested in engaging in this banter. Uncle Rob can be very annoying at times. But last night’s turn of events have revealed something more. There is something dangerous going on here. He is dangerous. And if he is dangerous, then I am not safe.

At that point, Uncle Rob had jumped up quickly and blocked my way, “Hey, just because you had your nineteenth birthday, doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want around here. Stopping out until all hours, sleeping around. Next thing you know, you’ll be skipping your classes. And that brain of yours would be a terrible thing to waste.”

I had then told Uncle Rob I needed to get going, to get showered so that I could get to class, and he let me pass. But I swear that, as I entered the bathroom, the last thing I had heard him say was, “I’ve got too much invested in that brain of yours.”

After all that, I still managed to get to class on time this morning. Thursdays are long. I had six hours of classes with only a thirty-minute break in the middle. Considering that I only had about three hours sleep through the night, plus that afternoon nap yesterday, I guess I did okay. Now it is five o’clock and I am about to do my evening cleaning.

Holy shit! I just finished my cleaning, but I had to come back to write again. I am in shock. If anything happens to me, my poor mom will be devastated. But my mom is also part of this, and I am filled with more fear and despair than I have ever faced in my life.

When I was cleaning tonight, I noticed that the door next to my office was ajar even though nobody was around. Seeking some answers, I entered and quickly realized that it was my uncle’s office.

On his desk was a file labeled WEDNESDAY’S CHILD. So, I flipped it open, and saw papers all about me: Aidan Arthur Roberts aka, Wednesday’s Child, a product of Robert Arthur’s laboratories. Afraid of getting caught, I did not have time to read everything. I took photos of the file pages which I shall look at later. My only focus now is to escape.

I must leave here as soon as possible. I cannot stay. I mean, I cannot stay at this apartment building, I cannot stay in this community, and I cannot stay at this college. My life is in danger.

I am trying to process this. From what I saw, I am a project. Not a person. An invention. I came from test tubes and machines. I do not even know if my mother is my mother. Surely she cares. She must love me. Everything she has ever done tells me that she loves me. But sending me here? How could that be an act of love? I do not know. I do not know anything now, except that I must go.

Friday, February 14, 2025

I am sitting here in the bus station, waiting to take a bus to somewhere east of here. I do not know where I will go, and I do not think I should write it down even when I do know. I must disappear.

My head is hurting again, but not as much as my heart is aching. Who am I? What am I? And what will become of me?