The Excursion: Emily’s Interview
I was on the veranda in my swimsuit, completely clueless as to how I got there. He said I had just walked onto the pier early that morning and when the tide rose, I had walked back to the porch. He didn’t mention why he was in his swimsuit either.
The last thing I remember was going to bed the night before, wishing them good night, and starting my dream with a trip to the shore on the sand (not the pier) in the mid morning sunshine. It was weird I was in the same swimsuit that I found myself in the next night, but it’s my favorite, so I suppose my mind had connected the two.
Thom was really silent and Joshua didn’t say anything. They both sort of exchanged looks without cluing me in on their secret. I truly don’t understand either boy, although they are teenagers and a mother isn’t supposed to understand her boys. Especially when one just showed up on my doorstep. My husband had died leaving Thom and myself alone until Thom was ten. One day I arrive home after picking Thom up from school and this boy with skin the color of mocha was sitting on my porch. I asked him where his mother was and he tells me in perfect French, that I was his mother. I think he mistook my surprise for misunderstanding so he said it again in Spanish and what I think was German and a slew of other languages. But he didn’t change his tone, and he didn’t get angry with me. So I took him in. He told me his name was Joshua, after the tree. Joshua trees are so ugly, but this boy was anything but. His eyes were slightly slanted, too, and a golden brown like perfect toasted marshmallows. It was strange, but in time, I saw him as a son and overlooked his differences.
Anyway, the boys are sixteen. But, really, Joshua does bother me sometimes. He’s a perfect gentleman, but he seems a little mischievous and I’m afraid he does things to Thom that I don’t know about. Thom’s my son and I hate to know he’s doing things that no normal teenager does behind my back. If he can assure me that nothing supernatural is going on, I’d feel better. Not that I want him having sex and doing drugs, for heavens sakes, I’m his mother! But I’d like to be able to help him and save him when things go wrong and if I have to deal with real demons and dragons, I can’t do that.
His father was the type with a wild imagination. He used to make up stories around his cancer and every visit to the hospital he had a different disease. hTom used to love seeing his father and it hurt me almost more to see Tom’s pain when we didn’t visit the hospital to listen to the stories than waking up to an empty bed. I guess Joshua is really an answer to that. He also has a wild imagination. The only problem is, I can’t tell if he’s making it up or telling the real truth. I used to dismiss it as his being a wonderful storyteller but after finding myself in the most odd assortment of dress without any memory of getting there and no alcohol in the house, I’ve started to wonder and worry about my baby boy.
This entry was posted on Thursday, June 21st, 2007 at 7:20 am and is filed under End of Childhood, Fantasy, Fiction Prose. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.