Mr. Tickle Bones

I traced a heart on the moisture condensed on the window and wrote the two words and eleven letters enmeshed in my heart: T.I.C.K.L.E B.O.N.E.S 

The weather wasn’t getting any better and I was afraid I won’t be able to take Timothy to the Cemetery as promised. I sighed leaning on the window panel, head next to the heart I drew, I looked out at the snow drifts and ice caps covering the neighborhood, I must remind Mrs. Magnolia to notify the community to start digging out the snow once the storm passes. Things have never been consistent except for the room I am in right now; my mother did not dare refurbish it and after her demise when I took Timothy in, he didn’t want to disturb its air either. It emanates a very pleasant mood, perhaps it’s the nostalgia. Heaving a sigh, I closed my eyes to sink back into his memories, so full of love and laughter even in pain.  

***

I pounced myself next to him on the bed and started giggling, he joined me in my little guffaw and laughed excitedly. 

“You look like you’re ready to paint the town red, snot nose, how’s the weather out there?” he said.

I never understood his idioms and rhetoric as a child, he’d keep them coming in every single sentence he spoke, if you had forgotten his name and want to identify him to your acquaintance, you can always say “don’t you know? The idioms man” and they would go “Oh, yes! Mr. Relish.” I preferred calling him Mr. Tickle Bones though, and he calls me snot nose. 

“Oi! Mama says I am not a snot nose and the weather is just fine” 

“Mama, a blithering idiot” he’d snigger. 

At moments like this, even as a child I was very contemplative about the relationship that my parents shared. 

“How was the weather?” he enquired again, none of my adjectives seemed to satisfy him. It was pretty much my routine that winter, I’d come back from sledging, hog down the delicacies Martha had prepared and march straight up to my dad’s room to keep him company. Sometimes Martha would accompany us and nurse him, rest of the times she left us alone in our own world.

My mother unlike Martha was never home, she was either working or never present, I was least bothered about where she was as far as I was around my father.  

“I told you the weather was just fine” I exasperatedly pulled myself up and sat cross legged next to him.  

“Sometimes things are more than just fine snot nose, when you can’t experience it by yourself, you want to hear it from your loved ones” 

“I am sure the weather man would be able to give you an answer, daddy” I was innocent in my response. 

“Ah! Best comedy” he let out a laugh.  

I dismissed most of his responses, not to be disrespectful, it was because the time they didn’t make sense to me. He always spoke with subtly as if he knotted everything to his own life, bedridden.  

I grew weary of his elusiveness and began inching towards him slowly. 

“No, snot nose, not today” he faked a terror.  

I gingerly went up to him and traced my fore finger around his belly button singing “round and round the coaster goes snot nose” I tried my best to put on a devilish face and hopped my fingers over his hand going “one step, two step, three step” - I always looked at him before making my final move, he’d try his best not to laugh and remain insensitive, I wondered how he manages not to move a muscle while being tickled. 

“Tickle Tickle all over hereeeee” I’d squeal and go straight for his pits tickling uncontrollably until he gets all teary eyed from the laughter, he’d fake fits of cough for me to stop but everyone knows the rule, the loser has to say the words. 

“I yield, I yield” I heard him say through his laughter. 

I went rushing out the door yelling “MR. TICKLE BONES IS A LOSER.”  

As a man who always gave indistinct responses, I wonder if he ever muttered to himself “I indeed am, snot nose” every time I ran out of his room, calling him a loser.  

*** 

I was welcomed by an enthusiastic Martha downstairs, she was arranging a bowl full of hot water, a nice towel, tablets, a glass of water, a bowl of hot something – which I reckon must be porridge, the number of things she managed to arrange neatly on the rectangular tray gave me anxiety, only if she were to drop them accidentally while carrying upstairs, I giggled at the thought of it. Poor Martha. 

“You’re just as fond as your dad to the seasons, Miss” she called out from the kitchen counter as I stood hugging the foot of the staircase. 

“It is just about the way they change, Martha, nobody likes change, but the way the seasons do, they carry you with them, I’d say in summer I am happy, in monsoon I am sad, during autumn I falling and spring I am blooming, and in winter....” 

“.... you’re seeking love” Martha finished the sentence for me. I wasn’t sure if I was going to say that, I was looking for terms that’d rhyme but whatever Martha says because she is wiser than I am. I shrugged and giggled, she stood by me a minute, ruffled my hair and walked upstairs. The look that Martha gave is exactly the ones that I give my father when I can’t understand his underlying tone, for some reason I felt very proud and accomplished.  

It was the next day I decided to tell my dad how the weather really was, the little moment that I shared with Martha asked for a refashion in my response. I just had the perfect answer. 

*** 

“What was the weather like today?” the moment I was waiting for.  

“It was more than just fine, daddy...we won in the snowball fight today, it was a battle” I gleamed excitedly. 

“Now that’s a flying start, snot nose” he chuckled and asked me tell more. 

“Would you close your eyes, daddy? as I narrate it to you” he was skeptical of my behavior but went on to close his eyes without saying anything. 

“The weather man said it would blizzard today, daddy, but it didn’t...Martha wouldn’t allow me outside because she was afraid I might get lost, I tried arguing with her that I have company but she said ‘you kids are no more size than an elf, imagine one of you stuck in that huge snow drift, I ain’t coming to dig any one of you munchkins out’ I wasn’t sure if she was joking or serious about it but she made sure it came off as a threat, daddy” a huge smile spread across his face as I spoke. 

“Would you tell me how the snow was today, snot nose?” 

“It was pale, daddy.” 

“was it all?” 

“sometimes we’d drop dead and start making snow angels, we are throwing snowballs at each other one second and the another, one of us fall to the ground and start making snow angels. We planned to make a snowman but we were no good with a shovel.” he didn’t respond so I thought I might add little more details. 

“It is just nice being outside daddy, you see, the sky is so blue and so is the ground on winter, except it is white” 

“A blanket of snow” 

“Exactly what I wanted to say, I reckon that will be my favorite metaphor of yours” the smile didn’t ease off from his face once, I was glad he enjoyed my weather details.  

“However,” I added “I miss you there in the snow, once in a while, the neighbors watch over their kids playing...I think they do it because they don’t want us stuck in a drift as Martha warned. I do not have you or mama watch over me....” as I trailed off the smile on his face eventually disappeared, he looked somber and grim now. I knew I misspoke, I immediately wanted to clear the air, I thought a little tickling might work but he didn’t move a muscle, he lied there lifeless, my giggle surprisingly wasn’t contagious that day.

“Can you give daddy a moment please?” his voice sounded desperate to be left alone, I didn’t want to cry in front of him so I ran downstairs to seek asylum in Martha. I bawled my eyes off hugging her legs, I didn’t know why I cried but I just wanted to. Martha lifted me up and cradled to smother my cry. I was a little old to be catered like a child, but I didn’t feel like getting off of her even when I sensed her struggle with my weight.  

“He wasn’t happy today, Martha”  

“What makes you say so?” 

“He didn’t laugh when I tickled” 

“I don’t think Mr. Relish could ever laugh when tickled, Miss” 

“What makes you say so?” 

“You know why I take care of your father and nurse him right?”

“Yes” 

“It is because he can't move his body from neck down to his feet” 

“Yes” 

“And that’s exactly why he cannot laugh at your tickles, Miss” I remained silent because I felt betrayed. If my tickles didn’t make him laugh, he needn't fake one.  

*** 

“Open the door, Miss” it was Martha. 

“You better open the door young lady or you live up to regret this day forever” it was my mother who had come home a couple days ago, for the last one week I preferred staying in my room. I didn’t visit my father because he bamboozled me, I ran to my room and locked myself in as soon as I saw him being brought down today.  

“Miss, you don’t want to throw a tantrum today, kindly open the door and let Mr. Relish talk to you” it felt like Martha was sniffling a tear while speaking. I didn’t know why they have to be so dramatic over a silly thing. I only wanted to bamboozle my father in return and didn’t mean to cause bitterness to anyone, for a second I was thoughtful about letting them in. And then I heard them murmur outside and the voices eventually faded away. I assumed they took him back upstairs.  

I couldn’t wait to barge into his room tomorrow and declare him a sore loser. Unfortunately, the tomorrow never came, when I ran up to his room the very next morning, it was empty, I couldn’t find him, only the flavor of medicine combined porridge hovered in the air. A week later, Martha dressed me up all in black and drove me to the cathedral, she hesitated looking me in the eye, I wonder if she did any mistake to avoid an eye contact. I was asked to lay a wreath on the coffin that rested on the altar, driving back home Martha assured that my behavior was immaculate, her eyes looked like they were stung by a bee, I didn’t feel like acknowledging her declaration and stared out of the window to avoid further conversation. 

***

“Miss, Timothy is all ready to go” Martha pulled me back from my reverie. She didn’t enter the room, she waited by the door. I took a brief second to acknowledge her presence with a nod and walked up to her, closing the door behind me I gave her a huge smile, which she returned generously, ageing didn’t let her spirit rust. Her presence brought me a greater solitude; it was such a paradox.  

Strangely she didn’t let me budge and stood blocking my way to the stairs, “Is there anything you wish to tell me, Martha?” She carefully handed out a piece of letter to me in response. 

“Martha” I called out to her as she climbed down the stairs, I didn’t understand the propose of her letter, maybe she wants to retire. “MARTHA” I called out again but she disappeared into her room quickly. 

I was going to knock on her door when Timothy came sprinting from his room “Mama, let’s go outside” he tugged at my top.  

“Sure Honey, how about you go outside and mama will follow you in no moment?” he nodded excitedly and ran to the front door. He wasn’t tall enough to grab the knob by himself, I laughed to myself and when to aid him. As I opened the door, he tethered his way on to the snow, I watched his footprints left behind carefully, they were so tiny and capable of boggling your mind. This was Timothy’s first time in snow and the letter in my hand started to make sense, I turned back to look at Martha standing by her room and give me an approving nod.  

I opened that letter very coconsciously afraid of maiming it, Martha’s handwriting read: 

“Snot nose, 

My actions weren’t involuntary, I indeed had to prompt a laugh every time you tickled me. Regardless I was habituated to your joy; thus, I can promise my love was a reflex. I am sorry I tricked you.” 

Love, tickle bones! 

I inhaled a sharp breath of air and struggled to breathe it out, my father chose to remain an eccentric man and made me a loser. I went dizzy as Timothy appeared in dots running towards me. 

“Mama” they are digging out the snow, he warned me alarmingly and shook me out of my trance. I began to see Mrs. Magnolia instructing her workers, I silently approached her and pleaded “Not today, please” it was as if she saw through me, she gestured them to hold off their works, I moved away as there were some disagreements. 

 I took off my boots and set foot on the snow, I forgot how intimate the snow was to me until today, the familiarity of it began to surface through my feet and my body; I fell on my knee, rippling the blanket of snow....I didn’t realize Timothy imitating me until he howled heartily.