Rocking by Pranavi Shrestha - Written in tandem with Chair by Kaitlyn Monahan
Only the moonlight illuminates the kitchen, casting harsh shadows onto the bare cabinets and counter. Still, the dark lingers in the corners of the room. The last candle of this month had gone out this morning and I had used the last of my job money to pay for food. I would have to deal with the dark, especially now that the night seemed to come so quickly in the winter.
It had been three years since the war had started, and almost a full year since Edward had come home. Broken. That’s what the doctor said, that he’s broken on the inside, and no amount of fixing will patch my darling up. I was starting to believe that he was right.
I had put Raymond to bed already, but he was a light sleeper and I couldn’t risk him waking up. It would also be his 7th birthday soon, so he was adamant to stay up. As quietly as possible, I heat the remaining porridge from this morning and place some bread on a plate. While it warms, I strain to reach Edward’s medicine. It’s in a small bottle, the second one this month. I finally grasp it, dole around half a spoon, and pour it into the porridge. I stir it well before spooning it and placing it on the plate beside the bread.
I take a step back and look at the food. It seems vile, and I wonder-
BANG! BANG! BANG!
My thoughts are cut short, and freeze, still reaching for the food on the counter. All at once, my senses come back to me, and I can only think about Edward.
I grab the food with one hand, and all efforts to keep quiet are gone, and Edward, Edward, Edward.
I’m up the stairs before I can think, tripping and falling and my dress is weighing me down.
“Edward!” I screech and shove the door open.
His room is silent, dark and desolate. He sits there, absolutely still, so still I might’ve believed he had died right then and there if he hadn’t been holding a smoking gun.
My heart clutches. I just know my Edward would never dare scare his family like this. But the more he does this, the more I am convinced he isn’t mine anymore. All he does now is sit in that godforsaken rocking chair that he made himself and hold that godforsaken gun. Every day, all day, he just sits there, looking oh-so pitiful. I wish I could gather him in my arms and put him back together, piece by piece, even if my hands get cut. Yet, I don’t believe he would remain the same, and all broken things are bound to shatter again.
So I leave his food on his nightstand as he stares at me with his crazed eyes, and I clean up the shattered pieces of the picture he shot up. I feel light-headed when I see he’s shot up a copy of our wedding picture, the bullets going clean through my head and his.
I gather the broken pieces quickly, cutting my hands in the process. On the way out, I throw the glass and the picture itself into the trash.
I wash my bloody hands in the bathroom sink before slipping into my room to find Raymond sitting up in bed, wrapped up in blankets. His blonde is illuminated by the moonlight, and his blue eyes shine with fear. He looks just like Edward.
“Mama?”
“Let’s go to sleep, darling.”
But sleep doesn’t come for me, no matter how tired I am.
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I wake this morning to an empty bed and the warmth Raymond left behind. The sun filters through the threadbare curtains. The sound of the bathroom sink startles me, and I pull myself out of bed.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stumble down the stairs. It seems that Raymond has put the latest mail on the dinner table. The letter on the top is from Edward’s doctor. I fumble with the envelope before opening it.
I open it to see the newest medicine bills, and my stomach drops. With a strangled sort of sigh, I place them directly into the ever-growing pile of medical bills. The amount has slowly been adding up, and my measly pay does nothing to quench the thirst for money.
Raymond still hasn’t come downstairs, so I fix myself a small cup of coffee. The steamy drink does nothing to lessen my stress. My head still throbs the same, and I slam the cup onto the counter.
At the same time, there is a sudden commotion upstairs and BANG!
Again, I am left to think only of Edward. But I have Raymond too. My Raymond who waited for me to go to bed, and put the mail on the table. My Raymond, my Raymond, my Raymond. And it clicks like a puzzle piece in my head.
I’m up the stairs before I can think, tripping and falling and my dress is weighing me down.
“Raymond!” I screech and shove the door open.
I see him huddled on the floor, a shaking mess. I throw my body in front of him and will myself not to shake. When there isn’t a second bullet, I swivel my head to the man in the rocking chair, still holding the gun. When he opens them again, all I see is a monster. I think I could kill him.
But Raymond is shaking and crying and babbling so I drag him out of there.
Down, downstairs, and into the living room. I run my hands up and down Raymond’s shaking body.
“What do you think you were doing?” I yell and my voice cracks at the end. The anger slips out of my voice and suddenly I’m overwhelmed. “Oh, Raymond..”
“I’m sorry Mama,” Raymond grabs at my dress and pulls me closer. “I just wanted to help him.”
My broken heart shatters a little further and I gather him up in my arms.
“Well, you can help Mama by staying away from him, okay?”
I press a kiss on his forehead and let him down. Lately, he’s been too heavy for me to carry for long.
He tugs at my dress once more and nods.
“Now be a good boy, and eat your breakfast.” I manage to choke out.
“Okay,” He replies softly and exits the room. He sways a little but makes it out of the room alright.
All at once the air in me leaves, and I deflate like a forgotten balloon. My eyes swim and my head throbs. I stumble into the kitchen and stare at the bottle of medicine. It’s mocking me, I decide. The stupid medicine and the greedy doctor and the war.
I snatch the bottle, and right as I am about to hurl it into the trash, something on the label catches my eye.
I freeze completely, my mind, my body, everything. A sort of chill runs through my body, a realization. I can only protect what I have, and Raymond is all I have left.
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I fumble around in my desk until I find a blank check. I fill out the check for two thousand dollars, just a little over what I owe the doctor. I place it inside the envelope and seal it shut. Then, I start packing.
“Raymond darling?” I call out. There is no response, but he walks into the room a second later. The look in his eyes questions the half-packed bags that were haphazardly spread across the room.
“Where are we going?”
“We will be visiting grandma tomorrow.” Of course, my mother didn’t know that, but it would be a surprise trip! I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see Raymond again.
He nods once, solemnly, and leaves the room.
That night, after Raymond goes to bed, I heat Edward’s dinner, one last time. I grab the medicine bottle and read the back once more too.
“Take in small doses. Contact your doctor if more than 5 servings of liquid is taken at once.”
I pour all of it onto Edward’s food. As I turn to throw the empty bottle into the trash, I hear creaking from upstairs.
“Raymond?” I call out.
Nobody responds, and I carry Edward’s plate upstairs. However, something catches my attention. My bedroom door is wide open.
I peek my head inside, to find that Raymond had thrown the blankets to the floor, and was sleeping bare. I smile slightly, close the door, and make my way to Edward.
He greets me in the dark, staring at me with unnerving eyes, and making my skin crawl. The two sides of me clash, the mother side of me, hating the monster that tried to kill my Raymond, and the young, hopelessly in love side of me. But I was no longer young, and the person I loved was long gone.
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The next morning, I woke to find Raymond still sleeping in bed, beside me. I gently shake him awake then leave to get ready. When I come back upstairs, Raymond is dressed and packed, looking rather dejected.
“What about…Father?” He asks quietly.
“Someone is coming to take care of him.”
“Okay,” Raymond replies and stays silent.
It’s a gloomy morning, and the fog engulfs everything surrounding our house. It feels like we are a tiny island in the middle of nowhere. The cab I had called up finally reached our house, and I pile the suitcases in the back. I give the last of my money to the driver and usher Raymond inside.
Around 20 minutes into the drive, Raymond speaks up again.
“Mama.”
“Yes?”
“Are you going to do that to me too?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you going to kill me too, if I become crazy like him?”
I turn to him sharply. “Raymond.”
“Well, he’s my father, isn’t he? I’ll end up like him eventually."