My Name Is James

The Game

"James! Come here, honey! We brought board games and cards. We can play whatever you want!" Mom chirped from the freshly dusted living room. I let out a heavy sigh, carefully folded the note, and placed it on my dresser. I was about to enter the hallway but reconsidered my placement of the note. I went back to my room and seized it. I rummaged through my dresser and cleared a spot in my underwear drawer. I placed the note at the bottom and concealed it with my boxers.

"Coming!" I called back to her. I stood at the very end of the hallway, took a deep breath in, and on the exhale, I sprinted towards the living room. I was wearing the type of socks that let you glide over finished wood like ice and I slid along the smooth surface of the floor. I came to a perfect stop (a first for me), rested one arm on the warped counter, leaned on it, and said with a cheesy crooked grin, "Hey." I pumped my eyebrows to add even more cheesiness to the act. Mom and Dad laughed and told me to sit down. It was time to play a game. I chose Who Am I.

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It was half an hour into the game and we had laughed so hard that I was hiccupping like a hyena which just made all of us chuckle harder. In the midst of this fit of laughter, I made a sarcastic joke about how Grandpa James was a "real hero" and Dad fell from his iconic toothy grin to a stoic visage. All laughter ceased.

"Dad?" Silence.

I tried again, tentatively beseeching him.

"Dad." He remained still.

It was strange for me to see him like that. He was always the one to grin at you from across a silent room, always the one to accept an award with modesty, always the one to help a transient. A shiver went up and down my spine.

One last time, I tried, "Dad, please." I waited. "Say something."

Those few seconds of enduring silence passed by like days of waiting for a lab result, hoping for the good and all the while, expecting the worse.

"Why?" He whispered. I couldn't hear what he said, so I asked him to repeat himself. "Why?" He said again, with more intonation than before. I heard his voice straining. "Why did you make a joke like that? You know your grandfather, my father, is a hero. He died because of our country. How dare you disgrace your namesake?"

I stayed silent, not knowing how to respond.

There was a silence that seemed to be perpetual. Mom finally spoke up softly, asking me, "James, honey, what did you mean when you said he was a 'real hero'?"

I panicked. I couldn't tell her about the note, they would never forgive him, and his wish would be left unfulfilled. But did I want Grandpa James to be forgiven in the first place? I took a breath and let the dusty air flow through my lungs. I let it out. Calm.

It felt like years before I finally opened my mouth to speak. I have never forgotten the words that floated from my mouth.

"I- I don't know..." I'd done it. I lied straight to my parents' faces. There was more of that heavy silence. It shattered when Dad sent me to my room.

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Much love, Sophia <3