12
Tuesday afternoon was bright and sunny, and Jon hopped off the school bus and launched himself into a sprint down the long driveway to his house, tilting his head back slightly to soak up more of the sunlight.
<<It feels good, doesn’t it?>>
<<It’s warm! And makes me feel… Oh! Oh, wait!>>Jon stopped suddenly and closed his eyes.
The Sun.
Superman got his powers from the Sun. At least…that’s what he remembered reading.
<<Is it true? It’s the Sun? Your powers?>>Silence.
<<Dad?>>He wanted to cry. But he held back, lowering his head and starting off toward the house again, this time at a walk. But he made sure not to drag his feet. Because his mom didn’t like him to get his shoes all dusty, and his grandma really liked to keep the house neat.
Nineteen more hours. At least, if he was doing the math right. And…if his mind wasn’t just playing the most awful trick ever on him.
He’d gone back and forth in his mind all day, trying to decide how to convince his mom he needed to stay home from school tomorrow. But, short of telling her the truth, which he’d already decided wasn’t an option, he hadn’t been able to come up with anything he knew would work.
He adjusted his backpack and glanced up toward the house as he approached. His mom sat on the bench on the front porch, her laptop open and her fingers flying over the keyboard. She paused and smiled when she saw him, and then she patted the seat next to her in invitation. He jogged up the front steps and dropped his backpack on the ground before settling onto the bench and scooting up next to her.
Her arm immediately wrapped around his shoulders, and she pulled him a little closer and kissed the top of his head.
“Your grandparents are gone for the afternoon,” she said. “So it’s just you and me and your dreaded math homework.”
He stifled a laugh and shook his head. “I think I’ll take my chances and wait for Grandpa to get home.”
Her arm tightened around him again as she also laughed. “Have it your way,” she teased. “Grandpa said you wanted to help out with some of his chores, is that right? Well, how about we get those done together, and then have dessert
before dinner tonight? Just you and me. Your grandma did make an apple pie for us, and there’s ice cream in the freezer.”
<<Mom’s apple pie was my favorite. Save me a slice, would you, kiddo?>>All the breath left him then as he nodded into his mom’s embrace. <
<Yes. I will.>> “That—that sounds great, Mom.”
<<Eighteen hours now, kiddo. Almost…home.>>
<<It feels like forever.>>“Okay, what should we do first? Feed the horses? Or sweep the barn, maybe?” His mom stood and pulled him up with her, and together they started out toward the barn.
<<Can’t…sweep the barn first… That…has to be…last.>> Jon stopped walking, his knees wobbling as he felt his dad’s overwhelming exhaustion again.
“Jon?”
<<Dad?>>
<<Sorry, kiddo. I…>>“Jon, are you okay, sweetie?”
<<…should…try to sleep again… Just tired is all. I’m almost home, I promise. I love you. I can’t…can’t wait to meet you.>>Jon felt his mom’s hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently, and when he opened his eyes, tears now streaming down his cheeks, he saw her expression filled with love and concern. He shook his head.
<<Dad? I’m—I’m not okay. Dad? Please still be there.>>
<<Hmm?>>
<<I don’t want you to go, Dad. Please stay awake just a little longer. Please.>>
<<I wish I could, pal… I really, really wish I…>>The connection faded before he could hear the rest, and he was left with just a weak whisper of words that he couldn’t interpret. He screwed his eyes shut and tried again to reach his dad, screaming silently with all of his focus and intention.
But all he could feel was silence and a terribly empty darkness.
“Jon, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong, sweetie? Please talk to me,” his mom pleaded, a note of desperation in her voice now.
“He’s gone again,” Jon blurted out, his eyes flying open as he looked up at her. Hot tears still rolled down his cheeks, and he shook his head and brushed them away. “He’s…”
His mom’s beautiful eyes stared back at him, still full of concern, and he frowned. He hated to see her worrying, and yet, he kept giving her reason to worry.
He needed to do better.
He would do better.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he quickly shook his head, straightened up, and then took her hand again as he began walking, with a bit more intention this time, in the direction of the barn.
“Sorry, Mom. I’m okay, really. I just…thought I heard something. But it’s gone now. All quiet again. And I’m okay. We should—we should get going on those chores, right? But…but I think it might be better if we feed the horses and cows first and then—then we can sweep the barn. ‘Cause the barn should be swept last. At least, that’s what… I mean, I think that’s what we should do.”
“Sure, sweetie,” his mom said quietly, and she let go of his hand and put her arm around his shoulders, squeezing him to her gently.
He felt the thrum of her mind racing again, a mix of emotions and feelings and rambling thoughts, but he didn’t let himself listen, and he tried to block it as best he could. There was a sadness surrounding her, however, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t
not feel that.
He only hoped that her sadness would be gone after tomorrow. That what he’d been hearing and feeling from this voice he’d identified as his father’s…that it was all real. That tomorrow, at around ten in the morning, his dad would show up and make everything all better.
And in the meantime, he would do the best he could to cheer her up.
“Mom, guess what we did at school today?”
He pushed away all of his own sadness and plastered the biggest smile he could on his face. Then he looked up at her as they entered the barn together.
She shrugged, her expression curious. “I don’t know. What did you do?”
“We got to write a paragraph about our favorite famous person! Wanna hear mine?”
Her eyes narrowed, and with a small half-smile, she nodded. “You have the paper with you?”
“Nope. But I remember it.”
“Word for word?”
She sounded surprised, like that was not…normal. But he’d always had a good memory. So it was normal for him, and he decided he wouldn’t allow himself to react. Instead, he grinned up at her again.
“Yup! It started like this: ‘The most famous person I know, who also happens to be my favorite famous person, is my mom. Her name is Lois Lane, and she is an award-winning journalist who works for the Daily Planet…’”
<<You really are the best. My perfect little boy. How is it that you just know?>>Her half-smile turned into a full smile, and he felt some of her sadness fade, replaced by love and joy and pride. He continued, his heart feeling just a little bit lighter.
“‘My mom was the youngest journalist ever to receive a Kerth Award, but that’s not what makes her special. What makes her special to me is how much she cares about the world and about those around her. She works every day to help others, and…’”
