The Wagner couple worriedly looked into the transparent box that is the incubator, praying for the survival of a premature baby who will be christened as Thomas Wagner.
Little Tommy Wagner, age eighteen months, pressed his face between the wooden bars of his crib, conforming to his instinctive urge to get out of the box he is in.
Glumly, Tommy picked up his newly-bought pair of shoes out of its box. It was his first day in school and he didn’t want to go.
Tommy beamed in glee as he peeked into the box that contained Santa’s gift for him during that Christmas eve.
His daddy got a new job in Montana, so they had to leave the old place. Tommy stuffed his things in a big box and made sure he hadn’t forgotten to pack everything.
His mother stared with judging eyes as she showed Tommy a box full of Playboy magazines that she has found inside his closet.
Tommy carefully handed the box filled with his old toys to the guy at the thrift shop and then silently bade those toys his final goodbyes as he left his childhood behind the shop’s dirty glass door.
As he dipped his hand into the exorbitantly-priced box of popcorn, Tommy glanced at Tina and wished he had dated Shane instead. Or someone else who is not into sappy romantic films.
Holding a large box in front of him, Tommy shoved open the door of his dorm room: the room that served as his home for four years.
Tommy, along with the others in the frat house, swooned when a large box with pink ribbons on it opened to reveal three women in different stages of undress.
Bored inside the class, Tommy looked forward to the day where he can finally leave that concrete box they called a ‘classroom’.
It’s Tommy’s first paycheck, so he had to (unwillingly) throw a small house-party with his co-workers. He picked up the last lice of pizza from its box before taking a swig from a bottle of Coors Light.
Tommy can barely see the faces of the ballerinas on the Upper Box B that he is in. He was never a fan of ballet, but he’s just too glad that he chose this over the cinema because beside him, Lena seemed so adorably happy watching the show.
It’s been five years, and Tommy thought it was the right time to do it, so in front of all the people in Lena’s photo exhibit, he knelt down in front of her and opened a small red box that contained a ring.
She said yes.
The newlyweds, Tommy and Lena, moved into a box-shaped duplex with a greenhouse on the rooftop: Lena’s preference, of course.
When Tommy pulled up on the driveway riding a brand-new Jeep Cherokee, Lena laughed so hard, and said that she’d rather take the subway than share a ride with him in that ‘box’. Of course she was kidding.
Tommy felt as if her wife’s inside a big, white box filled with strange-looking machinery. Tensed, he peeked through the small glass window of the delivery room’s double doors as Lena huffed in exhaustion.
Chelsea Wagner, the fruit of a blissful marriage, wailed after getting her left leg stuck inside an empty cereal box. Tommy chuckled as he picked up his toddler, and then told her that he’s a knight-in-shining-armor who will vanquish the monster that swallowed the princess’s little foot.
The contents of the mailbox include a letter from Tommy’s younger sister, Dahlia Wagner Truman, telling him to come to Manhattan ‘ASAP’ because their mom is ‘not well’.
The delivery box containing a baby’s crib arrived. Tommy and Lena are expecting a boy.
Among the honeycomb network of dividers is Tommy’s cubicle – a five-by-five-by-four box-like structure where he had spent ten hours of his everyday life wishing he had a better job.
Tommy assured Chelsea that her little brother, Charlie, is not a ‘favorite’. To cheer her up, he offered her a box of strawberry Pop Tarts but Chelsea merely shoved it away from his hand and sent it toppling to the floor.
Lena noticed their daughter’s fascination with fishes, so Tommy bought Chelsea a fish tank and a few cichlids.
Before driving to work, Tommy secretly placed a bar of Snickers into Charlie’s lunch box – a small token for his excellent grade on their latest exam.
After opening the box, Chelsea declared that she knew all along that Santa’s not real; because she saw her mom stash that stuffed toy from her present inside the closet the day before. Tommy shook his head, thinking: kids grow up so fast.
Lena shared to Tommy her concern about Charlie’s spending most of his time using the Xbox. Tommy said he’d talk to their son. He didn’t.
Tommy handed Chelsea a small box. He said that in it is his birthday present for her seventeenth birthday. Needless to say, Chelsea was more than thrilled after seeing a car key inside it that she hugged her daddy – something that she didn’t do for seven years.
Before she left for the UCLA, Chelsea gave Tommy a small paper bag with a box of Strawberry Pop Tarts inside, and a note that said ‘You’re not my favorite parent, but I think you’re one of the best in the world. I love you, dad.’
Tommy stared at the empty square where the picture of the former Sales Department Head used to be, and prayed to see his picture on that spot someday soon.
The image of the disappointed face of his mother came back to Tommy when he found out that Charlie stashed packets of cigarettes inside an old toy box under his bed.
Tommy received a relatively large paperweight from her daughter. It’s a fiberglass box with a strange-looking shell embedded in it. Chelsea claimed that it was the preserved exoskeleton of a small horseshoe crab – the animal that is the focus of her thesis.
Tommy, Lena, Charlie, and the toga-clad Chelsea huddled as the Polaroid flashed, creating a photo that seemed like the framed depiction of a happy family.
Holding a box of DIY black hair dye, Tommy sighed in front of the mirror and wondered why he didn’t get the promotion.
Behind the glass divider is Charlie, wearing an orange uniform. He was caught selling speed. Tommy stared forlornly at his son, musing how Charlie looked like a miserable pup behind a glass case of a dog pound.
Maybe he is.
Carrying Robert Carlson Jr. is Chelsea Carlson. The baby’s namesake placed a box of home-baked cookies in front of his in-laws, Tommy and Lena, who were so delighted to see their first grandson.
Charlie has done his time, and it’s seven years to be exact, with parole, of course. Tommy urged him to finish Graphic Design, but his son opted to work in a factory warehouse – stacking boxes and crates.
The never-ending patting on his back and the warm smiles didn’t help alleviate the heaviness in Tommy’s heart. He once wished for this, but that was long ago. He picked up the horseshoe crab paperweight from his office desk and then placed it in a box with the rest of the articles that used to decorate his cubicle for more than thirty years. His working days are gone for good.
With a rheumatic hand, Thomas ‘Tommy’ Wagner reached for the box of medicine on the nightstand and longed for the days when he can still go to the bathroom without a cane.
Lena said she missed her children, so Tommy took out an old musicbox from the bureau and opened it. In a melancholic tune, the device played the ‘Lullabye’ tune as the couple hugged each other to sleep.
Inside the hospital, Chelsea and Lena have just left. Tommy looked to his side and stared at the white metal box that incessantly beeped in accordance with the wavy green line – the green line that he always wanted to become flat.
At the funeral of Thomas F. Wagner, his relatives peeked into the glass of his black metal casket, not knowing that life is nothing more than just a series of looking in and out of boxes.
Or that maybe, life, is just a big box that is filled with surprises.
* * *
AFTERWORD:
The concept for this story came to me one day while I was strolling all alone inside SM Sta. Mesa. I saw this group of students – all of them are peeking into the glass window of an arcade machine. They all looked eager and child-like as I watched them, and then I thought: What if it’s the other way around? What if we peek from the inside of a box instead of from the outside?
But then, I realized that I already am inside a box. And that I’m not the only one.
Because we all live inside a box.
-Jim Lodge