For My Broken Heart - short stories

Super Sweet (pt.1..?)

It's midnight, and I've snuck into the kitchen to steal a leftover piece of my sons birthday cake for a guilty snack. I keep telling Gus, "I'll start my diet tomorrow, I promise!" but if my son is allowed to indulge sometimes, so am I. 

Upstairs, I hear the floorboards creek and a door open. Assuming that it's Gus on his way to bust me, I close the fridge and flee to the dark hallways with my plate of cake. I stay silent waiting to hear the sounds of Gus getting a glass of water, but instead I hear small footsteps followed by a soft "mom?" 

I step back into the kitchen to see my 10 year old, Teddy, standing in his new alien-themed pajamas looking sad. 

"I had a bad dream," he sniffles. 

"Oh, Teddy," I go to my boy and embrace him tightly. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

"It was about superman."

"You had a bad dream about superman?" I ask, baffled. Teddy loves superman. 

Teddy nods. "I dreamt he was evil. He was using his powers to torment the people of Metropolis. He used his eye lazors on a pregnant girl because she was 'unholy'." 

A lump forms in my throat. My son has never said something so dark. I place my wrist on his forehead to check for fever. Clammy, but not warm. 

"Are you feeling okay sweetie?" I ask. 

He shrugs. "Can I have some cake?" 

I smile and wonder if he was just playing sad to get some sweets, but I'm caught now, and I know if I don't let him have any it will get back to Gus that I was binging in the middle of the night. 

"Promise you won't tell your dad?" Like a good boy he makes a motion of locking his lips and throwing away the key. Teddy would never tattle on his mama. I grab him a plate and we both sit down at the breakfast nook.

"Have you been watching scary movies at JJ's house again?" I ask. He shakes his head. 

"No, I swear!" he tears up a little. "Please don't tell dad."

So that means yes. 

"I'm not going to tell him, but you're going to have to sleep in your own bed if you don't want him to know," I tell Teddy. He looks very stressed. 

"We'll watch a funny movie together, okay?" I tell him. "Your pick."

Teddy and I set up in the living room with a cartoon of his choosing and, as I suspected he would, he dozes off within the first 20 minutes. Satisfied, I carry his 75 pounds worth off to bed. As I'm leaving, I notice a drip in his ceiling. I groan, too tired to properly deal with it. I grab a bucket from underneath the bathroom sink and set it there for the night. 

"Goodnight, sweet boy," I whsiper and kiss his cheek, as I've done since he was tiny. He rolls over and snuggles Candy the Cat a little tighter. He hides her when his friends come over, but I know she's a stuffed toy he'll keep into his adult years. 

I close Teddy's door and return to my husband across the hall. He's sound asleep, so I try to be quiet as a slip into bed and wrap myself around his sleeping back. 

"I love you," I whisper, and shortly after, I drift off.

*

I wake up the next morning to the sound of Gus hollering. 

"What the hell were you doing?" I hear him yell. 

"I didn't put it there!" Comes the nervous voice of my little boy. 

I jump put of bed to investigate. I find Gus standing in Teddy's room, pointing at the rain bucket I left there last night. 

"Hey, what's going on?" I demand in the most authoritative voice I can muster. Gus whips around and points more dramatically at the bucket.