\nAfter their second full day inside, Mothbert teaches George to gamble. \u201cYou say hit when you want another card,\u201d he tells him.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHit!\u201d says George. \u201cHit!\u201d Outside, the city is quiet.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019ve busted, George,\u201d Dad says.\n<\/p>\n
\nThey use pennies, dimes, and nickels, and George gets pretty good. Mothbert teaches him Gin Rummy, then blackjack and Texas Hold \u2018Em. When Dad\u2019s there, he flips Mothbert\u2019s cards. When he isn\u2019t, George has to do it. George puts them face up behind a stack of books and tries not to look, though sometimes he can\u2019t help it.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAm I bleeding?\u201d asks Mothbert.\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge sits back. He loves this saying for when you\u2019re accidentally showing your cards. He loves the sayings more than the games, little blind, river, full house, all except for the one Dad used when he pushed back from his cards and said, \u201cI\u2019m out. If I get in any deeper, I\u2019ll wake up with cement shoes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nThe shoe incident happened the day schools reopened. Nothing to do with cement, but still, this is how Ms. Marcy refers to it. \u201cThe incident was not your fault,\u201d she\u2019ll say, or, \u201cDo you feel ready yet to talk about the incident?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge doesn\u2019t see what the big deal is. His shoelace got stuck in the elevator door, and he tripped. Still, he has to go see Ms. Marcy every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She used to forbid Mothbert from coming, but George wouldn\u2019t talk, or if he did, he\u2019d only say, \u201cBeats me.\u201d Now she lets him join. George can tell she\u2019s not happy about it.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHow\u2019s your week been, George?\u201d she asks.\n<\/p>\n
\nMothbert points to a blue plastic brick. George attaches it to his spaceship. \u201cOk.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAny exciting weekend plans?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMothbert points to a wing piece. George takes it. \u201cBeats me\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMs. Marcy puts a hand on the table. \u201cWe talked about that phrase.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge knows, but he doesn\u2019t want to say the real thing.\n<\/p>\n
\nMothbert catches his eye. \u201cMom\u2019s birthday,\u201d he mouths.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI have Mom\u2019s birthday party,\u201d George says.\n<\/p>\n
\nMs. Marcy looks at the space in front of George, where she knows Mothbert is sitting but cannot see him. \u201cThat\u2019s wonderful,\u201d she says coolly. \u201cWhat will you do?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge doesn\u2019t want to think about it. Dad says she\u2019s just unwell. He says to give her time. But George knows it\u2019s worse than all that. \u201cBeats me,\u201d he says, heart beating quickly.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe cannot find the other wing piece. He looks at Mothbert for help, but Mothbert has crossed his arms and fixed George with a disapproving stare.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe\u2019re going to order food and watch a movie,\u201d mumbles George.\n<\/p>\n
\nMothbert relaxes, and he points to the wing piece.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nMothbert walks George to school. Buildings rise like gravestones around them and a faded sign listing Flu-2 symptoms flutters past. Excessive drooling. Disorientation. Death. Dad comes when he can, but usually, he\u2019s too busy. It\u2019s just as well. He\u2019s always so rushed in the morning he never lets George work the elevator mechanism. Either that or he won\u2019t let George do it because of the incident. George has to work the mechanism with Mothbert, though, which Dad knows but must intentionally forget.\n<\/p>\n
\n<\/p>\n
\nThe sun shines into the bus, and George hoods his eyes. Mothbert and he have decided to buy Mom a present. Children wait on the sidewalk as George and the other passengers get off. Like him, they have red blinking lights on their wristwatches and behave like people being watched.\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge and Mothbert stop outside a bookstore. The front is made of dark wood and big, sweaty glass panes. Around them, several adults flicker in and out of sunbeams.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat about here?\u201d asks Mothbert.\n<\/p>\n
\nMothbert\u2019s eyes are dark like the wood, and his hands are lean and strong. When he smiles, it\u2019s like salted caramel. Only later will George realize he looks like a shorter Jimmy Stewart, playful yet genuine, but that won\u2019t be for many years, long after Mothbert is gone.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOk,\u201d says George.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt\u2019s quiet in the bookstore, and the air smells old. Mothbert scans the nonfiction section. George runs his finger along graphic novels. He walks farther into the stacks. They rise high above him. It\u2019s like a maze, or a labyrinth. The air becomes close, and his stomach flutters. He wonders what he\u2019ll find in the center. Treasure? A magical helmet?\n<\/p>\n
\nHe rounds a bookcase and meets the vacant blue stare of Kevin Lonaghan. Kevin is the only kid in George\u2019s class with a bio nanny, and he\u2019s always asking George if he wants to have a playdate. It\u2019s bad enough George has to sit next to Kevin in science and hear him suck his fingers. \u201cHi, George,\u201d says Kevin. \u201cWant to see something gross?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge glances around. They are alone. \u201cWhere\u2019s Miguel?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nKevin shrugs. \u201cI don\u2019t know. Here, look.\u201d Kevin holds out a book.\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge doesn\u2019t want to look, but he must.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe page contains several drawings, each done in a hyper realistic way, though George can see the individual pencil strokes, which makes the effect more unsettling. It\u2019s a book for doctors. In the first picture, a woman\u2019s head is tipped back, her throat unnaturally bloated. In the second, the woman is staring straight ahead, naked, her breasts and pubic hair visible. In the third, her skin is translucent, and her muscles and bones are visible.\n<\/p>\n
\nKevin points. \u201cThat\u2019s a vagina. Your mom has one.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge fills with a terrible mixture of disgust and shame.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cPreparing for your medical boards, Mr. Lonaghan?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nBoth boys turn. Mothbert stands behind them. He must be in quiet mode because Kevin hasn\u2019t closed the book. This is his default setting, concealed from everyone but George. But that can\u2019t be right, either. Kevin is staring straight at him.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMy parents say holographic caretakers are a way for the 1% to avoid spending time with their children,\u201d says Kevin. \u201cNot only that, but they take away jobs from hardworking people who are often undocumented and desperately in need of usable income. Additionally, holographic caretakers can\u2019t actually care about anything, not houses and not children, because they\u2019re just a series of 0\u2019s and 1\u2019s projected by a sophisticated light array.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMothbert grins. \u201cIs that right?\u201d He turns to George. \u201cI found a book. Let\u2019s buy it, then stop for ice cream on the way home.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nAfter the surge, and before Mom shut herself away for good, she cooked breakfast, cleaned the house, and got them dressed. \u201cWe\u2019re going out,\u201d she announced.\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge couldn\u2019t believe it. Even then, she didn\u2019t like leaving the apartment without Dad.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBut Dad,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSo?\u201d There was a twinkle in her eye. Whatever she\u2019d been sick with, it hadn\u2019t made her dribble sticky drool or speak in tongues, though the isolation and everyone going crazy hadn\u2019t helped. \u201cWhere do you want to go?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge couldn\u2019t help it. \u201cThe park.\u201d In summer, he\u2019d run through sprinklers, and in winter he\u2019d fly his spaceship, the cockpit below the slide.\n<\/p>\n
\nMom nodded. \u201cThe park it is.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCan Mothbert come?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe hesitated. Typically, if Mom came down, she\u2019d ask Mothbert to be put away. But she said, \u201cMothbert can come. Now go get your things.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge hurried to the hallway bench. He tied his shoes and called the elevator. His mother wore a long white dress. Her hair glowed in the light, and as the elevator arrived at the floor, she winked.\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge opened the gate, like always\u2014and like always, he closed it again. What took him a moment twas that his shoelace was caught in the grill. He turned to tell his mother, to have her help him get it out, but she\u2019d already pushed the mechanism.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe elevator descended, George\u2019s leg lifted, and he fell. Mom screamed. George began to cry. Mothbert told her to bring the elevator back up, it was alright, but she was hysterical, face red and sobbing, and so was George, whose head hurt, and who was half on his back and half dangling, his shoelace caught on what moments ago was the floor but was now three and a half feet above it.\n<\/p>\n
\nThey remained like this, George\u2019s nose so blocked he was taking big gulps of air through his mouth, Mom becoming more and more incoherent, gibbering, until finally Mothbert was able to calm her down enough to bring the elevator back up.\n<\/p>\n
\nThat was the incident.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nGeorge sits by the bus\u2019s window with the book. An old woman is beside him. George tries to catch Mothbert\u2019s eye. He is standing inside of another boy\u2019s holonanny, causing them both to flicker. George can\u2019t seem to, so he turns to the window.\n<\/p>\n
\nOnce, Dad was supposed to manually update Mothbert\u2019s OS but kept forgetting. Mothbert would glitch in creepy ways. His voice would get too low, or his face would droop. Dad kept saying he would do it, then forget.\n<\/p>\n
\nOne day at school, Mothbert kneeled down to explain what the teacher meant by rounding to the nearest tens place. The fire alarm went off. Students got quietly to their feet, each with their blinking red watches, but no longer George. His watch was dead. They got into a single-file line at the front of the room, and Mr. Meyers switched off the lights.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt wasn\u2019t until they were in the stairwell that George noticed.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMothbert?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cEyes forward, George,\u201d said Mr. Meyers.\n<\/p>\n
\nHis mouth trembled. \u201cMothbert?\u201d He felt an odd lightness in his chest. He turned to scan the stairwell. Big kids stood in line behind them, eyes white and pupil-less, brains off in some game or message board while their bodies filed obediently down the stairs.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cGeorge!\u201d shouted Mr. Meyers. \u201cI said eyes forward!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nBut George couldn\u2019t help it. \u201cI can\u2019t find Mothbert!\u201d he wailed.\n<\/p>\n
\nDad put in the update that night.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nWhen they get to the building, George and Mothbert don\u2019t take the elevator. They race up the five flights of stairs, stumbling and laughing. Near the top Mothbert pauses to catch his breath, which George knows is real and not real, but he is too excited to care. He\u2019s going to win.\n<\/p>\n
\nThey order Thai. George eats noodles at the table while Dad reads emails. \u201cMom isn\u2019t feeling well enough to come down,\u201d he says, \u201cbut tomorrow she\u2019d like to have some people over. Wouldn\u2019t that be nice, George, to have company? It\u2019s been a long time.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nFull house, George thinks, and the odd lightness returns to his chest.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe\u2019s upstairs somewhere.\n<\/p>\n
\nDad is talking to the tall blond man, and Mr. and Mrs. C, their downstairs neighbors, admire the painting they\u2019ve seen 1,000,000 times before of a country street at sunrise but always pretend is new. \u201cOoh, the lighting.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAnd the reds!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHit,\u201d says Mothbert.\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge puts down a card. They\u2019re sitting on the couch together.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHit,\u201d says Mothbert.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe puts down another. Mothbert throws up his hands. \u201cBust.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe blond man goes to the piano and plays. Mom comes in with a board of cheese and crackers. Her hair shines, and her face is full of color. George is startled. Maybe dad was right, maybe she just needed time. Either that or an update.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThat\u2019s so nice,\u201d she says to the blond man.\n<\/p>\n
\nMr. and Mrs. C wander to the cheese board, which Mom has put down on the coffee table beside the cards. She smiles. \u201cYou\u2019ll like that one, Georgie,\u201d she says and points. She has never called him Georgie before. A glitch, maybe?\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHow\u2019s school?\u201d asks Mr. C, lathering up a cracker.\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge deals the next hand. \u201cOk.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cLearning anything interesting?\u201d asks Mrs. C. She and Mr. C have the same face and the same mannerisms, and even though George knows they\u2019re not related, he\u2019s suspicious.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBeats me\u201d says George. Mothbert gives him a look. \u201cYou want to hit?\u201d George asks. Mothbert folds up his cards. \u201cWell, do you?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHow are the renovations coming?\u201d Mothbert says, redirecting the conversation.\n<\/p>\n
\nMrs. C rolls her eyes. \u201cThey were supposed to be done a week ago. Why, can you hear them?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSometimes,\u201d says Mothbert. \u201cIt\u2019s not bad.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge hates when Mothbert talks like an adult. It\u2019s so phony. \u201cHey, do you want to hit or not?\u201d he says, louder.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAre you using that same architect?\u201d asks Dad.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo,\u201d says Mr. C. He picks a seed from his teeth. \u201cWe went with someone Anne knows.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMom has not spoken since she brought in the cheese board. She\u2019s beside the coffee table and smiling like she\u2019s there, but George knows she isn\u2019t. He does this sometimes, too, goes into a room in the back of his brain. Any moment, she\u2019ll burst into tears.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019re feeling better?\u201d Mrs. C asks.\n<\/p>\n
\nMom touches her hair. \u201cWho, me?\u201d She laughs. \u201cOh, yes. Just a mild case of the blues, I think.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMothbert isn\u2019t allowed at dinner. George must sit between Mr. and Mrs. C, who even smell the same, too, like powdery detergent. Mom spoons out noodles. Everyone loves it. George eats his plain. Around dessert, Dad winks at him. \u201cPretty fun party, huh?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge nods. \u201cPretty fun.\u201d And it\u2019s true. He thought it might feel lonely to have so many people in the apartment again, but it doesn\u2019t. It feels normal.\n<\/p>\n
\nMr. C wipes his mouth. \u201cI have a question, George.\u201d Mr. C is a professor and often likes to pose questions to the group. \u201cSomething I\u2019ve been wondering for a while. Does Mothbert count as an imaginary friend?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nEveryone looks up, a bit startled.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThat\u2019s an odd question,\u201d says Dad.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI mean, he plays with George, he talks with George,\u201d says Mr. C, \u201cand most of the time can only be seen by George. Aren\u2019t those all markers of an imaginary friend?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge watches everyone\u2019s faces, unsure if the question is making them uncomfortable.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMaybe,\u201d says Dad. \u201cBut he\u2019s real. He isn\u2019t imaginary.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMr. C nods. \u201cAlright. So, if a child like George has a holonanny, can they also have an imaginary friend? Or is it one or the other?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nDad purses his lips. \u201cI don\u2019t know. I never had an imaginary friend.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMom smiles. \u201cMy simple husband,\u201d she says, and everyone laughs.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cGeorge,\u201d says Mr. C. \u201cHow do you think of Mothbert? Is he real like your Mom and your Dad are, or is he kind of made-up, like someone in a book?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nIf Mothbert were there, he\u2019d know the answer. Everyone is looking at him, including Mom, whose eyes look oddly clear. He wants to get this right. \u201cHe\u2019s not made-up,\u201d George offers. That much is true. George has seen him talk to all kinds of people.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOk. So, he\u2019s real?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWell,\u201d says George. \u201cYou can\u2019t touch him.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOk,\u201d says Mr. C. \u201cSo if he\u2019s not real, and he\u2019s not made-up, what is he?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge can\u2019t say beats me because everyone will get mad, and Mom is looking at him with a small, proud smile he hasn\u2019t seen since he won bronze at the geography bee, and everything for a moment is as if the night is ordinary; as if they, too, are all ordinary. But he doesn\u2019t have an answer. He can see the smiles fading.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhich is when he remembers. \u201cMothbert is a way for the 1% to avoid spending time with their children,\u201d he recites loudly. \u201cNot only that, but he\u2019s a series of 0\u2019s and 1\u2019s projected by a sophisticated light array, so he actually can\u2019t care about anything or anybody.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThere\u2019s a silence. Dad glances at Mom. Mom suddenly looks ill.\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge has made a terrible mistake. His eyes begin to itch. He has ruined everything.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhich is when Mr. C explodes into laughter. It travels around the table, Mrs. C first, then Dad, then the blond man, and finally Mom, until tears stream from everyone\u2019s eyes, and fists pound the table. George can\u2019t figure out what he\u2019s said, but it doesn\u2019t matter, he\u2019s laughing, too, now, and crying, and he can\u2019t wait to tell Mothbert how well he did.\n<\/p>\n
\nDad washes dishes. Mom says goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. C and the blond man. They each hug, commenting how weird it is to touch again like this, and Mom closes the grill with a bang. She apologizes, laughs, and waves one more time. When the elevator is gone, she smooths her dress and walks to the kitchen.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAnyway,\u201d she says. Dad turns off the faucet. \u201cI\u2019m going to call it a night.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nDad tosses the towel over his shoulder. \u201cOk.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou sure you got everything?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cGo,\u201d he says. \u201cYou\u2019re the birthday girl.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe walks to George, a bit unsteadily, and kisses him on the head. \u201cGoodnight, Georgie.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge watches her, wishing he had some way to make her laugh or stay longer. Halfway down the hall, she removes one high-heeled shoe, then the other. He can hear her hum the piano song, but Dad turns on the faucet which drowns it out.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAre you going to give her her present?\u201d whispers Mothbert. He must have come out from the office.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThe book. Her present.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge\u2019s eyes widen. He rushes down the hall to his room.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe have to wrap it,\u201d he says.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI don\u2019t think she\u2019ll mind,\u201d Mothbert says from the door.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo, no, we have to.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMothbert helps him find wrapping paper in the closet, scissors and tape, and talks George through it. When he\u2019s finished, it looks terrible. \u201cYeah?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cPerfect.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge is at the door when he realizes something is wrong. \u201cAren\u2019t you coming?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo, I think I\u2019m going to stay here,\u201d replies Mothbert. \u201cKeep Dad company.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe stairs to his parents\u2019 bedroom never creak. George can hear the kitchen faucet somewhere. The sound of plates. At the top of the stairs, George sees the TV through the frosted glass. It\u2019s the news on mute. George knows this without having to see it.\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge gathers his courage at the door, he is a spaceman, he is a knight, and he knocks.\n<\/p>\n
\nIf Mom were in her bed, he\u2019d hear it groan, and the door would open. Slowly, George slides open the door. The lights are off, but he can see clothes scattered about in the television glow. Plates of food, too. A dark fruity smell strikes him.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe hears a faucet, not from the kitchen but from the bathroom attached to the bedroom. Through the door, he sees Mom over the sink splashing water onto her face. Her hands are trembling.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe has the sense he shouldn\u2019t be here, like he\u2019s breaking some essential rule.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe sits on the bed and smooths the wrinkles on the wrapping paper like mom did with her dress. He hopes she likes the book. He doesn\u2019t know what it\u2019s about and wishes now he\u2019d asked.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe bathroom faucet turns off. On the TV, the newsperson is about to enter a Flu-2 warren, places where one-by-one, family members went in, and no one ever came out. It happens for different reasons, but one thing is certain: they did not have holonannies to call an ambulance once everyone got sick.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cGeorgie?\u201d says his mother.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe stands at the bathroom door, and George suddenly feels ill. He lifts the wrapped book without speaking. His mother wipes her hands on her nighty.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d she says. \u201cA present?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe sits beside him on the bed. She does not smell fruity. She smells clean. On the TV, bodies are wheeled out under sheets. One has specks of blood. He imagines Kevin Lonaghan under it, alive but frozen, like he\u2019s under some spell.\n<\/p>\n
\nMom shakes the present. \u201cNot a toy.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge shakes his head.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe pulls off the paper. \u201cA book?\u201d She turns it over. Her breath catches. She puts a hand on her chest. Her skin is so pale he can see her bones. Are bones always there, or only when you think of them?\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOh my God, I\u2014\u201d Mom\u2019s eyes are suddenly wet. She\u2019s about to cry. He\u2019s ruined everything again. He wants to run to his room, hug his stuffies and yell, \u201cMothbert picked it out. It\u2019s his fault, not mine,\u201d but Dad is coming up the stairs, and all the bodies are out of the warren now, six in total, and the newsperson is shaking their head.\n<\/p>\n
\nNo one ever comes to this side of the river, the closed captions say.\n<\/p>\n
\nMom touches his arm. \u201cGeorge,\u201d she whispers. \u201cThis is my favorite book.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nAnd everything falls away.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cGeorge?\u201d says Dad. \u201cHey, George? I was wondering where you were.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nIt\u2019s as if they are nowhere, or on a stage in a large dark room.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHoney, look what George got me.\u201d Mom lifts the book.\n<\/p>\n
\nDad reads the title out loud. \u201cHuh, I don\u2019t know it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t?\u201d says Mom. Dad shakes his head, undoing his tie and hanging it up from the closet door. \u201cAbout Frankie? Honey, we almost named George Frankie.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThis thought makes no sense. If George were Frankie, he wouldn\u2019t be George. He was Georgie for a little while, though.\n<\/p>\n
\nMom looks at him, puzzled. She is about to speak, then shakes her head. \u201cThank you,\u201d she says. \u201cI can\u2019t wait to reread it.\u201d She kisses him on his forehead, for one second, two, and George feels a melting inside him, like up until that moment, all his insides have been a little off, and now they\u2019ve been set right again.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat do you think, old man?\u201d says Dad. \u201cShould we get into our PJs?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nThere is a box on George\u2019s bed.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYour gift,\u201d says Dad. Inside it, there is a pair of shoes. They are black with yellow flames. George thinks it\u2019s a mean joke, then he sees there are no laces. They\u2019re slip-ons. \u201cGive them a try,\u201d Dad says. \u201cWell? Do they fit?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge flexes his toes. \u201cThink so.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDo you like them?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYeah.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cPhew. Save us some time getting out in the morning, huh?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge nods.\n<\/p>\n
\nA crash comes from upstairs, like a drawer being slammed. Dad\u2019s smile falters. \u201cI better go see what that is.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOk,\u201d says George.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt\u2019s not because of the present, George. It\u2019s because\u2026 well, tonight was a lot, I think. You can\u2019t make or destroy matter, you know.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge nods.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe listens to Dad\u2019s heels up the stairs, then to the sound of the sliding glass door. It\u2019s strange, when Mom or Dad isn\u2019t around, George can\u2019t picture them. There\u2019s another crash. Dad says, \u201cSweetheart, please,\u201d and the sliding glass door muffles them. George looks at the ceiling. They\u2019re both still up there, he tells himself, they both still exist.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDid she like it?\u201d asks Mothbert. He switches off the light.\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge gets into bed. \u201cI think so.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nIn certain lights, Mothbert looks transparent. It happens now in George\u2019s nightlight, a red and blue rocket ship. Mothbert sits. \u201cWant to hear a story?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge shakes his head. He feels the lightness creep into his stomach again.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat about a joke? What\u2019d the robot say to the computer?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge shakes his head.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cShould we just do highs and lows, then?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge stares at the ceiling.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cQuit crashing, you\u2019re making us look bad!\u201d Mothbert grins. Then, he sighs and stands. He is nearly in the hall when George says, \u201cMaybe you stay home tomorrow.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMothbert freezes. \u201cWhat?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge\u2019s heart is beating faster than at dinner. \u201cMaybe, tomorrow, when I go to school, you stay home?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMothbert doesn\u2019t move. His face is dark and difficult to see. \u201cWho will walk you to school?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI will.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWho will help you copy down your homework?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ll remember.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWho will remind you to stay quiet in line?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMe, I guess.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWho will\u2026 it\u2019s a Ms. Marcy day.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge\u2019s stomach twists, but he is determined. \u201cI\u2019ll talk. I promise. I won\u2019t say beats me. And when I get home, I\u2019ll tell you everything I said.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMothbert nods. \u201cAlright, George, but\u2026 did I do something wrong?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nIt\u2019s George\u2019s turn to freeze. \u201cWhat? No. I just\u2026 you always help me, make me laugh and say nice things, and I think tomorrow, well, you could stay home and maybe do those things for Mom. If she needs it.\u201d It\u2019s the greatest sacrifice he can make.\n<\/p>\n
\nIn the nightlight, Mothbert\u2019s eyes widen. They look like two tiny moons. \u201cOh, George. Yes, I\u2019ll stay.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nIt doesn\u2019t matter that Mom will probably just turn him off. She\u2019ll have the option, and who knows, maybe she\u2019ll come downstairs.\n<\/p>\n
\nGeorge sinks into his bed. He is so relieved. \u201cThank you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMothbert nods. \u201cThat\u2019s very good of you, George.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cLove you, Mothbert,\u201d says George.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI love you, too, George.\u201d He steps into the hall.\n<\/p>\n
\nAnd George knows he\u2019ll sit out there the whole night, hands lightly clasped, staring down the hall. Unlike his parents, he can see him easily, his playful eyes, his kind grin, a companion who in six years will be deactivated by the Deanimation Act, not imaginary but not made up, either, bought so the 1% could avoid spending time with their children.\n<\/p>\n
Michael’s fiction has appeared in Drabblecast, Three Crows Magazine, and Not One of Us. He is a middle and high school history teacher working and living in Brooklyn, NY with his wife and two cats, Butch and Sundance.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
After their second full day inside, Mothbert teaches George to gamble. \u201cYou say hit when you want another card,\u201d he tells him. \u201cHit!\u201d says George. \u201cHit!\u201d Outside, the city is quiet. \u201cYou\u2019ve busted, George,\u201d Dad says. They use pennies, dimes, and nickels, and George gets pretty good. Mothbert teaches him Gin Rummy, then blackjack and …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":108132,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,20191],"tags":[20193],"class_list":["post-140865","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-55-spring-2025","tag-the-colored-lens-55-spring-2025","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140865","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/108132"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=140865"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140865\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140866,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140865\/revisions\/140866"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=140865"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=140865"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=140865"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}