Autumn

13: What he dreams

Despite sleeping in a happy mood the previous night, nightmares still managed to cloud his mind. He dreamt of his father leaving, hearing the angry roar of his car, his mother's desperate pleas. Theodore woke up drenched in sweat, tears leaking from his eyes. Furiously, he wiped them away, flipped onto his other side and squeezed his eyes shut.

But with his eyes closed, flashbacks haunted him. He quickly opened his eyes and squinted at his alarm clock. It was five and he still had a good two hours before he had to get up, but he rolled out of bed anyways and padded barefoot into the kitchen.

After he had rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and had a quick cup of coffee, he started taking out ingredients to make breakfast. Theodore wasn't the most skilled cook, but he had perfected few recipes and one of them was pancakes.

Half way through flipping his batch, his mother entered the kitchen, dressed and ready for work. "I thought I heard you. Why are you up so early? Couldn't sleep?"

Theodore smiled slightly. "Something like that."

Helen frowned. "Do you need to take a day off?"

"No, I'll be fine. Anyways, it's Friday and I have a study period at the end of the day. I can come home around two."

He turned to examine his cooking so that he wouldn't have to fry under his mother's calculating stare. Eventually though, she relented and kissed his cheek.

"If you need to go home earlier, call the hospital and I'll be there, okay?"

"Okay." He forced another meek smile. "Want a couple of pancakes before you go?"

She glanced at the oven clock and grimaced. "Better not. I already have a granola bar and an apple in my purse. That should do me until my morning break. But leave me a couple for after work?"

Theodore agreed.

"Okay, I'll just grab my phone and I'll be off. It's garbage day, so don't forget to put the bins out before you go to school." His mother walked around the kitchen like a headless chicken, trying to remember anything else. "Also, shave before you leave."

He sighed teasingly. "I know, I know."

She picked up her phone and tossed it into her bag. "Okay, I'll see you tonight. I'll bring pizza home. And tell Winston that if he wants to stay for dinner, he better not smell like cigarettes."

Even if his friend had snuck a smoke before his mother came home, she wouldn't just kick him out on the streets. Hell, she'd serve Winston ice-cream for dessert and wrap up some left over dinner for him to bring home. She was more concerned about his health as opposed to the retched stench his addiction left in her house.

"That boy is cutting years from his life." Helen shook her head. "Okay, I'm running late now. I'm off. I love you, Theodore."

"I love you too, Mum."

She squeezed his arm and walked out the door. Theodore finished cooking his breakfast, sat down with a high stack of pancakes drenched in butter and syrup, and dug in. It was a poor way to help him forget his nightmare, because although he sugar was satisfying, it only coated the sour taste in his mouth. Not dispel it.