Chapter 147
Chapter 146: The Card
Nick’s POV
It was the right cereal-the one without the things I was allergic to, the pale colored one that tasted like almost nothing in particular because there was no flavour like orange flavour or cherry flavoured but luckily that was what my stomach liked. Catherine had learned which one it was.
She’d gotten it wrong at first when she was going grocery shopping and had bought the one with the honey coating that made my skin do the thing, as usual and Mrs. Peterson had thrown it away before I’d seen it and bought the right one, and Catherine had learned from that.
She was learning a lot of things that she didn’t learn about me before because my mum was there and there was no reason for her to learn it.
But now she was, because she was no longer suggesting plat dates and parks but more of homeworks and eating healthy which reminded me of my mum which made me feel warm inside.
“Do you want more milk?” Catherine asked raising up her head from what she was doing.
“No thank you,” I said, focusing on my cereal. It was the perfect amount of milk and cereal and I didn’t want to add more or it would get soggy faster.
She nodded and looked at her phone, which was what she did while I ate breakfast. Not in a bad way. Just -she looked at her phone and I ate my cereal and it was quiet, which was different from breakfast with
Mom.
Breakfast with Mom was not quiet at all.
Mom asked questions at breakfast. Not big questions, just-what are you thinking about, what’s the first thing you want to do when you get to school, if you could have any animal as a pet what would it be today. The today part was important because the answer changed all the time for me based on my feelings and emotions on a particular day. She knew the answer changed and she asked anyway, every day, because she wanted to know the today answer not just the always answer.
I thought about what the today answer would be.
A capybara, I thought. Today I would want a capybara.
I didn’t say this out loud because Catherine hadn’t asked me and I didn’t want to hold it against her because that was a mum’s thing and not a general thing.
“Ready for school?” Catherine asked after I was done as she helped wiped my face and checked my bag to make sure all my books were complete.
“Almost,” I said.
Nick in Schoot.
Chom
Mrs. Peterson walked me to school on the days Catherine had morning things to do, which was most days because she wasn’t like mum who was a stay at home mum. She also had her job and she took a lot of calls, that were harder to listen to because they kept talking about things that I wasn’t familiar with. Today Catherine had a thing so Mrs. Peterson came at eight-fifteen with her coat and her bag and the specific expression she had when she looked satisfied that something had been done right and she didn’t need to make any major changes.
“Inhaler?” she said.
I patted the bag. “Got it p>
“Medication p>
“Took it p>
“Good boy,” she said, which she’d been saying since I was a baby and which I didn’t mind even though I was almost a big boy now at six because it was Mrs. Peterson and it meant something different when she said it than when other people did.
We walked, my hand in hers as she made sure that the road was clear before crossing us.
“Mrs. Peterson,” I said.
“Yes p>
“Do you know where Dad is p>
She was quiet for a moment. Not a pretending-to-think quiet but a real thinking quiet, where she was deciding something.
“He’s in Seattle,” she said.
Seattle. I turned that over. “Where Mom is p>
Another quiet. “Yes p>
“Is he trying to talk to her p>
“I think so,” she said. “Yes p>
“Do you think she’ll talk to him?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Peterson said, which was an honest answer. She gave a lot of honest answers. That was one of the things I liked about her.
School was the same despite all the changes that I had experienced in my life this past few months, school had remained the one constant in my life and i was really grateful for it.
We did math, which I was good at. We did reading, which I was also good at. We did something with clay
23
Neck in Seppot
Claim
that I was not good at but that was okay because the teacher said there were no wrong answers in art, which I was pretty sure wasn’t true but I didn’t say so.
At lunch Marcus asked me if I wanted to trade my apple for his crackers and I said no because the crackers had something in them that I wasn’t supposed to eat, the specific something that Mom had made me memorize the name of so I could check. I checked the crackers. I was right. I said no thank you.
Marcus looked surprised that I knew to check.
I didn’t explain why I knew. It would take too long to make him understand why I had to avoid certain foods and it was way easier saying no than being sick again. I hate being sick.
After school I went to my room.
The card was in the drawer, under my tennis things, that mum had bought after I told her that I wanted to be just like Aunt Catherine and play tennis internationally.
I got the card out.
It was made of the dark blue paper from the craft box, which I’d chosen because blue was my favorite but also because it felt like the right color for something serious. I’d drawn a picture on the front-me and Mom, which I’d done carefully, making sure I got the details right. Mom in the picture was wearing the green sweater she wore when she was comfortable at home, not the nice clothes for going out. Her hair was long because that was how I remembered it last. I heard from dad that mum had cancer and then from a teacher that cancer made people’s hair to fall completely.
Comments
LUCK DRAW >
す
Vote
Florence
A passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.