The Memory Giver (#Wattys2014)

Prologue Pt 2

                                                            Prologue 2

             “Think I’ll play out here while you’re gone,” he told her with a resigned sigh.

               “Suit yourself.”  

               It hadn’t dawned on Allison that he’d be afraid, so before leaving, she built the neatest pillow fort and stocked it with enough books, coloring books, toys and puzzles to keep him busy until she got back.  She even brought the Captain Crunch cereal box from the kitchen and told him he could snack from it right there in the living room—just like a grownup.

               “These are your rations,” she said, handing it to him.  He smiled at that one, and it eased some of the guilt that had been gripping her heart.

               “Thanks.”

               Despite Marty being such a pain in the ass, she really did love the little brat, but a girl has her needs, so Allison deposited Marty in the center of the fort, gave him a big hug, and reminded him not to open the door for anyone. 

               “This is just between you and me,” she said, her voice lowering dramatically.  “I don’t want you blabbin’ my business to mom when she gets home from work.  Got it?”

               Marty nodded. His tongue was desert dry.

               “I’ll bring you some ice cream, you little con man,” she said, rubbing her hand across the top of his head.

               “That’d be nice,” he replied with the shadow of a smile. “Chocolate.”

               It would be the last thing they’d ever say to each other.

               The sound of Allison moving away from the door, her footsteps retreating down the stairs—away, away, away—died in Marty’s ears.  “Good riddance to bad rubbish,” he called.  Of course, she couldn’t hear him.  He laughed high and loud.  It was a fake laugh and when it died, Marty realized he was alone.

               The first thing he noticed about being alone was how quiet the apartment was without Allison or his mother there.  No chattering voices of the two of them going at it again, no music from the radio filling up the empty spaces.  Phoebe kept the radio on whenever she was home.

               “Dance to the music.” Sometimes she’d sing along with a song on the radio, grab Marty and dance him around the apartment.  “You’re my new leading man,” she’d say, twirling him.

               “Stop, Mom!” he’d cry out, but he enjoyed dancing with her.  He especially enjoyed that she was happy again. 

               With both Phoebe and Allison gone the apartment was nighttime quiet, even though Marty could see the bright June sun streaming in through the living room blinds, casting long shadows on the faded carpet.

               He looked down at the treasure Allison had dumped in his fort before she left.  Think I’ll read.  I’m a big boy now, and that’s what big boys do. We don’t play; we read.

               Marty picked up his favorite book, Tall Timber Tales, about Paul Bunyan and Babe the blue ox.  He decided to read the part about where Babe drank the entire Grand Coulee River.  He wasn’t sure how big the Grand Coulee was, but he knew it was a lot of water.