Tommy walked down the stairs donning his Ninja Turtle pajamas and holding the bear his mother had given him a few years prior. The bear was white, and when he squeezed it tight enough, it would say different phrases that he loved. Tonight, he couldn’t sleep. It was dark, and mama had been fighting with daddy a few hours prior. Tommy wanted to sleep with mama tonight, even though he was a big boy -almost 6 whole years old- and far too old for sleeping in mama’s bed.
He walked to the living room, where the tv was playing an old sitcom mama loved. He cuddled up next to her, but she stayed motionless. Maybe she was asleep. Tommy shook her gently, but she didn’t move.
“Mama? Are you awake?” He mumbled, continuing to shake her softly. But mama didn’t wake up. Was she mad?
Tommy put his head on mama’s chest, looking for the thunder inside that comforted him on bad nights, but it never came. Was mama holding her breath? Tommy didn’t mean to make her mad. He really didn’t. Tommy didn’t want mama to be mad at him. He hugged her tighter. Mama was always warm. Her smiles, her touch, her words. But now? Now mama was cold.
“Mama, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad. I’m sorry.” Tommy cried softly. Dad always called him a baby for that, and said he sounded like a wuss. But mama was mad. Mama never got mad at tommy. “I’ll never be bad again. Please mama, don’t ignore me.” But mama just stared at the tv, unblinking. Tommy felt something wet on his hands. Maybe paint. Mama likes painting.
When nana was sick, she had to take lots of medicines. Maybe Mama was sick. Maybe if Tommy got her medicine, she’d feel better, and not be mad no more. He went to the counter, walking past dads grown-up juice. He liked that a lot, maybe even more than he liked Tommy. Mama always yelled at him for that. Tommy climbed onto the counter, and opened the cabinet, standing on his tippy-toes. He grabbed the bottle of paw patrol gummies that mama said made him strong. He started to get off and let out a little yelp as his balance betrayed him, and he fell onto the cold, unforgiving tiles below. Tears brimmed in his eyes, and he ran to Mama. But she was cold too.
‘Mama, I got medicine. Will it help you? Please mama, don’t be mad.” The little boy whined, hugging his mother close, wishing for her embrace. Mama must be mad. Really mad. But what did tommy do? Was he a bad kid? He didn’t want to be a bad kid. It was dark. He was scared of the dark. He wanted a hug. He wanted her to tell him he was okay, and she wasn’t mad, daddy just got a little too rough. He wanted his Mama. Oh, he wanted his mama so, so bad.
But Mama was mad.
Tommys mind travels to the last person he saw so still. He was four. His grandmother was in a box, a big box, sleeping. Mama was crying- why was mama crying? He asked, and she told him that Grandma had gone to a better place. But Tommy was confused. Wasn’t here a better place? Tommy didn’t understand how someone could just leave. Was Mama in a better place? No, no. Mama was here, not in a box like grandma. Mama was ok, she was just really, really tired. He kissed his mama gently on the forehead, like she would when Tommy cried. Maybe mama wasn’t mad. Maybe she was just tired.
When the door opened, he felt a feeling he hadn’t felt in almost a year. A feeling when Dad had wanted to play, and Tommy messed it up. He didn’t catch the ball, and he felt a terrible feeling, like something had dropped, as the ball hit him in the forehead. Dad had yelled, saying that Tommy was a word the then-4-year-old had never heard before. The door opened, and for a split second, tommy wanted to run, to tell dad that mom was sick, or tired, or something, but that weird feeling came back. That terrible, terrible feeling, and Tommy ran upstairs.
With his bear held tightly in his arms, he went up the stairs. He could hear the click of his father’s car keys falling on the counter. He liked playing with the keys. His bear was held in his hands gently. This was ok. This happened a lot. Dad and Mama would get in fights, and Tommy would hide in his closet, covering his ears to drown out the noise. Tommy didn’t like loud noise, or too much sound, it hurt his head.
Tommy went into his room. It was dark. His nightlight had long since broken, and the room was almost pitch black. He heard a noise, his father calling for him. Dad was looking for him. Tommy almost turned, but that same feeling crept up on him, and he ran into the closet, holding his bear. Dad sounded drunk, a term he had heard mama use a lot. Mama said dad could be angry when drunk. But dad sounded kind right now.
Which is how Tommy knew that something was definitely wrong.
He could hear footsteps of loud boots, much like the thunder in mamas chest, except it didn’t make tommy feel good. Not at all. The feeling was back, like a boa constrictor holding Tommys heart like its prey, squeezing, squeezing, until it finally stopped. His chest felt like a weight was sitting on it, his ribs tying around his lungs like a noose, suffocating him, waiting, slowly, for his breathing to stop. his arms, tense and shaking, like when he gets cold.
Tommy hugged his bear tightly. It was wet with mama’s paint too. It would probably stain. He heard footsteps, closer, closer. He hugged the bear tighter. Closer. Tighter. Closer. Closer.
The footsteps were close, and Tommy shut his eyes, pulling the bear to him like a lifeline. He was scared. Tommy was terrified of his own father. This wasn’t like the baseball, or when the doctor’s told tommy that something was ‘wrong with him’, as dad had put it.
No, this was worse.
The footsteps passed by the closet, seemingly not thinking that the boy, although small, could fit in there. And Tommy heard the boots. Stomp. Stomp.
And then they were gone. The sound, the stomp, the bang. It was gone.
Tommy held the bear closer, closer, closer. He didn’t know why he was scared; he shouldn’t be. It was just his dad. Closer. His dad loved him. A lot. Right? Closer. But he knew that if his father found him like this, in his state, it would not end well. Closer. As did all the other times. That creeping feeling was still there. Closer.
Tommy hugged the bear a little too close.
See, as said earlier, when pushed hard enough, the bears voice box would go off, letting out a multitude of phrases and sounds, loudly.
And the loud sound of a distorted ‘I love you’ rang through the room.
The door to Tommys closet opened with a loud creak.