The Last Time As Children

There was a loud crash just outside his window in the early hours of the morning. The sun had not yet risen and he really did not want to get out of bed. It was cold and the blankets were the only thing keeping him, somewhat, warm. He listened to the sounds of his parents stirring awake. He heard his sister’s room door open and the muffled voice of their mother reassuring her everything was ok. The door closed quickly and her footsteps on the creaky floorboards signaled she was on her way to him.

    “I’m fine, Mother,” he said from under his blankets, but the door opened anyway. 

    “Son, son!” his mother shouted in a whisper. “Tell me you are alright, son.” He knew what would transpire if he did not answer her right away. Her panic would build and build until she could not stand it any longer and she would start screaming hysterically, crying and running around offering desperate prayers into the ether. She would pronounce him dead before she even touched him to make sure. 

    “I said I’m fine, Mother,” he said. “Go back to bed.”

    “Everything is alright, my precious child,” his mother said. “Father is taking care of everything. Would you like some milk? Should I sing you to sleep?”

    “Just let me sleep.”

    “I’ll bring you some milk and honey.”

    “I don’t want anything, just let me sleep,” he said as the door shut. He heard his mother dash off towards the kitchen.

    He really did not want to get up or be bothered at all this early in the morning. He really did not care what the noise was; it was probably a chunk of the neighboring building falling off from disrepair. The whole town was falling apart since the departure. Any second his mother would return with milk for him to drink and probably a small piece of meat “to help you grow strong, like your father,” his mother would say. He thought about blocking his door with a chair or his storage chest, but that would involve getting out of bed. It was just easier to drink the milk and eat the meat and get his mother out of his room.

    She returned with the milk and a small piece of meat. “There you are my sweet boy,” his mother said. “I brought you some meat so you can grow up strong, like your father.” He sat up in bed, grabbed the glass out of her hand and drank it down in one long gulp. Then he traded the glass for the meat, chewed it a few times and swallowed as his mother tried to brush his hair with her hand. She sat on his bed, smiling and humming as he chewed. “Would you like me to sing you back to sleep?” she asked. 

    “Good night, mother,” he said as he threw himself back down on the bed and covered his entire body with the blankets. 

    “Sleepyhead, close your eyes,” she sang softly. “Mother’s right here beside you. I’ll protect you from harm, you will wake in my arms. Guardian angels are near so sleep with no fear.” He grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes tight trying to force himself asleep or at least go unconscious. “Lullaby and good night, with pink roses bedlight,” she continued. 

    The sound of the front door closing distracted her and she stopped singing. She tried to kiss his head but only found his shoulder then dashed off again. She stopped at the door. “Sleep my prince, sleep,” she said just before closing the door. He relaxed and finally got back to the business of sleeping. Her singing had never been soothing and he always had to pretend to fall asleep so she would leave. No matter how many times he told her to stop she would not listen.

He could hear his parents talking beyond his bedroom door, but their voices were muffled. He knew she would check in on him at least once more before going to bed. She would not sleep, she never did after being woken up. She would lie in bed pulling on her rosary beads, touching each one in succession as she imagined the worst possible things were happening to her children, her husband, her town, her sister, her brothers, her parents. Eventually she would succumb to exhaustion. It was not entirely unwarranted. With the collapse of the state, they were put into a very precarious position as a part of daily life. When the economy collapsed and the money dried up, the soldiers and government officials departed, creating a vacuum that was filled with unscrupulous people promising a better way of life. His parents were on their own then with two young children to care for. The town started to fall apart once there was no one to do maintenance on the buildings and roads. The town was pretty run down to begin with because of being so far away from any city. Few came to the town before the collapse, and those that did were not welcomed. Once the town had thinned out, they moved into a better house in the small town proper, as did the few remaining families. They decided being spread out was not a good idea and thought they would be safer clumped together. Only a few dozen families remained of the thousand or so residents that once occupied the surrounding area. 

That was over fifteen years ago and his mother had become stuck in time. She simultaneously expected everything to go back to the way it was and feared for everyone’s safety at every moment. She was pessimistically optimistic about the future, as his father would say. When the sun rose, he crawled out of bed, put on his boots and jacket and helped Father carry in firewood, same as every morning. They did this with little communication, not even greeting each other. Mother was cooking breakfast and his sister was helping her. Mother was humming an incoherent tune and his sister was trying not to make eye contact, same as every morning. Across from their house he saw a fresh chunk of concrete had fallen off the adjacent building, just as he thought. 

It was just after noon when he saw them. He and his sister were wasting time out of sight of Mother when a black car drove slowly through town and parked in front of the old courthouse. They watched it from beside the empty building that used to be a salon. They saw several other residents watching from behind curtains and from entryways. Everyone was eying the car they had never seen before. It was several minutes before the car doors opened and the occupants got out. He thought that was a tactical mistake. It allowed the residents time to get very suspicious and arm themselves. 

The strangers were two men in suits, one black, one blue, and a woman in a red pantsuit. The man in black wore sunglasses and had a short, buzzed haircut. The man in blue had a full head of curly, well maintained hair. The woman was short and had long black hair and was a little older than the two men. They looked around and chatted among themselves, paying little attention to the people who had come out onto the street. Father was leading a small group of men towards the car. He trusted his father’s ability to keep calm, but he was concerned about the other’s demeanor. 

Father spotted him and his sister as they approached the strangers. “Go home, children,” he said to them. We’ll handle this.” Father gave them a look that concerned them. They had never seen him worried. Father was tall, broad shouldered and unnaturally aged beyond his years. He was unrecognizable from the photos before the departure. His enthusiasm and seeming good nature had faded quickly after the collapse and hardened into that of a man who stood between his family and death itself. His stride was less confident that usual as he led the men towards the car.

He grabbed his sister’s hand and they ran the short distance home. Mother greeted them with a panicked look and a huge hug, burying them both in her chest. They pushed her off of them and turned to the window trying to see down the street, but they could not.

“Stay away from the windows, children,” Mother said. “Let’s sing a song!”

“We’re not little children anymore, mother!” his sister shouted.

“We don’t want to sing a stupid song,” he added.

“What do you think is going to happen?” his sister asked him.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “But, I don’t think it will  be good. 

“Who are those people? Mother, do you know?” his sister asked.

She did not reply. She kept humming to herself as she wiped off the clean table. “Lunch will  be ready shortly, children. You need to eat so you’ll grow up to be strong like your father.”

It took everything he had to not smash the window. Will she ever see me as anything besides a baby who needs constant tending to, he thought? His sister placed her hand on his back as he leaned his head into the window. 

It was several hours before their father came back. He walked straight through the house and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him swiftly. After a few minutes, Mother knocked on the door before slipping inside. They talked in low tones and he thought he heard his mother gasp. Just as he decided he would sneak up to the door and listen, the door swung open and shut so fast he hardly saw his mother exit the bathroom. A few moments later she was back with some clothes in her hands. The door shut quickly behind her.

She emerged once more, calmly. “Dinner will be ready in a few moments, children. Wash up,” she said. Father walked out of the bathroom wearing a different shirt and pants. He looked distant, like he was consumed with his thoughts. He was carrying a bundle of clothes. He watched Father go outside and burn his clothes before joining them at the table.  At dinner, no one spoke. Father was always quiet, but Mother was quiet as well. Mother kept smiling at her food as if she were practicing smiling. Mother looked more frail than usual. She was unhealthily thin and wore many layers to hide it. Normally she would make eye contact with everyone and ask them childish questions, but that night she looked to be on the verge of tears.

This had happened once before, he remembered. Someone showed up in town and everyone was on edge. Mother and Father had conversations in hushed tones for a few days and no one ever told him or his sister what was happening. They were younger then, so he figured it was an adult thing. Something children need not worry about. This time, he thought, I’m not a child. I deserve to know what is going on. Just before he spoke he noticed how quiet it was. It made him hesitate. 

“Do you want to say something, son?” his father asked. His sister looked at him, fork still in her mouth, mid bite. Her eyes were wide. Mother was looking down at her plate and Father was carefully eating his meal. 

“I want to,” he started. That sounded too demanding, like he was asking for something above his station. “Who were those people?”

“It doesn’t concern you,” Mother said softly.

“Of course it does, Mother,” Father said. “They are not the babes you think them to be. Understand, son, that what you ask is of great importance. Upon knowing, you will be expected to act like an adult. Are you ready for that?” 

“Yes, Father,” he said.

“Are you ready for that, daughter?” She nodded, swallowed her food and put down her fork. “We are all adults here, is that what you are saying?” 

The children looked at one another for the last time as children. They guaged each other’s expressions trying to see if either one would falter. Then, in unison, they said yes.

“Do you hear that, Mother? Your children are ready to grow up.” She responded by continuing to stare at her plate. “Alright then. Those people were from the newly formed government. They have invited us to join them. They made us an offer, and we’re going to have to discuss it as a community, tomorrow. You will be a part of that discussion.” Father saw the smile on his daughter’s face. “This is serious, daughter. Either way, our lives will not be the same after tomorrow. We will either join them and likely be relocated closer to a larger population, or we will remain independent and likely relocate ourselves further away.”

“Why would we leave?” he asked.

“Because, if we become citizens we are too far away and too few to benefit from the state. And if we decline, we are too close to the border, which will eventually move to claim this territory. We have no hope of holding this land ourselves, so we must leave either way.”

“Why did you change your clothes, father?”

Mother stood up and hurried out of the room. 

“There was some disagreement about how we should handle the offer,” Father said. His voice was low. “Things got out of hand and I had a decision to make. I chose to protect the strangers at the cost of one of our own. This is an important lesson that I want you to understand.” Father leaned forward and held out his hands towards his children. They slowly reached out and held his hand.His hands were strong and rough from years of hard labor and stress. He looked each of them in their eyes before he continued. 

“Our actions have consequences, not just for ourselves, but for those we love. You must think carefully about what you do and how you do it. You must be ready to face up to what you’ve done. If you cannot stand by your actions, you are not ready to be an adult. Selfishness is what separates children from adults. You’re mother and I love you very much, and we will always protect you when we can. But, we’re going to have to rely on you more to do things and make decisions for yourself from now on.” Father sat back and continued eating dinner. “Eat up, so you’ll grow up strong, like your father,” he said. He smiled and gave his children a wink.