Saturday, July 14, 2012

What To Do With Two

What To Do With Two

Dear Jackson,

Travis died.

I called you many times, you never returned my voice mails. I can only assume you thought I was going to keep going on about Two. That you had your fill.
You wouldn't have been home in time to do anything anyhow.

I never did care for the “business trip” part of your work.

The hospital called as I drank my coffee. And, yes, I was thinking of him.

You see, it was always the both of us. We did chores together, watched movies, made the dinners you and Travis ate. 
I was the one who had to take him yesterday morning. I was the one who saw the fear. It was my heart breaking. It was me who wept all the home to an empty house.

I tried so hard to think of yours and Pastor David's words. So hard, I swear I did.

"They have no soul. " you said.

"They were made by man, not our Lord, so they are merely things. They may be flesh and bone, but they are made for a purpose and that is all. We may become attached to these...creatures, but in the end you have to remember that they are parts. Crafted for a specific reason." the Pastor said.

" You can't keep doing this...this meltdown. It's just a matter of time before it has to be done. And it will be done." you added.

I remember how strong and sure you looked. I just tucked it all away. Put away the misplaced sentiment and thought logically. Travis was what mattered. Travis was all that mattered.

But now?

There is no Travis.

There is just Two.

At the hospital I said goodbye to my little boy. His heart never as strong as his sweetness. He lay there in a bed so huge he looked even smaller than he really was. So pale. And cold. His chest no longer raising and falling with his shallow breathes.
I kissed his head and petted his hair and told him he was loved and will be missed.

I knew he wasn't there anymore. But it gave me comfort.

At the nurses station, the nurse handed me a slip of light blue paper with several numbers on it.

"You can pick up the unused parts on the fifth floor. Here are numbers for disposal handlers. People have been keeping them more and more, so there is a number for councilors and social workers to help you if you decide on that course of action." she told me.

Her face showed the amount of disapproval at the idea. I imagine you have the same look at this moment.

I remember taking the paper and saying thank you.

On the fifth floor I was directed to a playroom. Two was the only one in there. He was playing some game on a large screen.

When he saw me, he looked happy.

Then he looked at me.

I put out my hand and he came.

"Let's go home Two." I said.

"Is Travis coming with us?" he asked.

"No. It's just you and me."

And there is was. So perfectly clear.

Just you and me.

I know in novels they say that all the time. But when it happens, when all the fog and doubt have vanished and all that remains is a path free of clutter. Then you know how real that statement is.

Once home I made all the arrangements. The information is here on the table for you. Calls have been made. Notices have been placed.

I have said my goodbyes already.

Two and I are heading to my sister's in Pittsburgh. They have schools there. Laws to keep Two safe.

I won't be back.

I hope one day you will be able to join us. To love Two as your own.
If you can't, you are not welcome to join us.

I am sorry.

This has to be more important than a big empty house.

Thank you for the wonderful life we had. Thank you for Travis. And thank you for Two.

I have loved you.


She folded, tucked and placed the sealed envelope on the table. The setting sunlight shined in the kitchen making it seem far to cheery. It masked the fear and sadness that was everywhere.

"Hey, Two. Come on in here." she called.

A small flash came in from the family room.

A familiar shape with floppy bangs and a juice-box.

The two had been the same, but vastly different. Like Travis, but not at all Travis.

"Everything packed?"

The little head nodded yes.

"All the things you want? All your clothes?"

Another nod yes.

"Good. There's just one more bit of business before we go. " She sat down on the floor cross legged and took his hands.

"You need a proper name. What would you like it to be?"

“Oatmeal!” he yelled and let out a full high laugh. A happy silly laugh. She chuckled with him.

“Any others?”

The dark eyes looked at her. Intent and serious. The way only a six year-old can.


"Peter? That's a very good name. Why Peter?"

"Peter was the king of Narnia." he said.

"Yes. Yes he was."

"Kings are for always."

"Yes. They are." She gave him a smile,

"For always."

The End

No comments:

Post a Comment

Disqus for Into A Barrel and Over My Life