Controlling the Elements

by N. R. Spratlin

‘Thump, thump.’

  “I am never going to see them again, am I?” Lyon asks quietly. Suddenly everything stops. My brother and sister in law disappear. The car wreck goes. I look around, blinking at the bright sun, trying to gain perspective of my new surroundings. We are in a beautiful meadow, sitting amongst lavender flowers. Marissa’s favorite.

  The smell it gives off is amazing.

  I take in a deep breath and relax. Lyon sits directly in front of me, his lips trembling as his tears start to trail down his face.

  “Oh, honey, you will see them one day I promise. They are in heaven now, but Aunt Dill will always be here.” I answer, wiping the wetness off his small cheeks and then wiping my own.

  “I am never going to see them again.”

  “I am never going to see them again.”

  His words echo and repeat as if on a constant loop.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “So, I haven’t exactly conquered that terrifying ‘mom look’, so sue me.” – Dillon

  Dillon

  “Aunt Dill! Aunt Dill!” a loud siren wails sounds out, echoing down the hall, followed by the rushing of little frantic feet. I jump, into a sitting position, eyes wide, heart fluttering so hard it’s as if a bird is trying to be set free. While clutching the duvet in a white knuckled grip with my left hand; my right slides under my pillow searching. I take in the familiar and comforting sight of my purple bedroom and loosen my death grip. I find the packet of lavender under my pillow that Marissa always keeps for me. My shoulders slump in relief. I wipe away the tears that must have fallen in my sleep.

  It was just a nightmare. It isn’t real.

  Or at least the last part wasn’t. Unfortunately, I relive the loss of my brother and sister in law every single day.

  I take a deep breath pushing my bird’s nest of hair clear from my face, and wipe the sweat on my brow away before turning with a big fake smile at Lyon who’s standing by the side of my bed, clutching a tennis ball.

  “Hey there little man, what do you have there?” I nod to his hand.

  “Aunt Dill, you were crying!” He is way too perceptive for a six-year-old.

  “I’m fine, Lyon Wyon. How is my stud?”

  “I’m okay, I’m hungry though!” His stomach rumbles further making is point. We both laugh.

  “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” He looks serious as shakes his head no.

  “What do you want for breakfast this morning, Munchkin?” I ask as I push aside his shaggy hair from his eyes.

  Crap, we have to go get that trimmed soon.

  “Blueberry Waffles!” Lyon proclaims loudly.

  “Then blueberry waffles it is!

  “Yay!” He puts his hands up in the air doing a little celebratory dance. I snort.

  Kid gets his crazy from me.

  He suddenly stops dancing to throw his ball across the room. It rolls across the carpet. I raise my eyebrow at him. He just giggles.

  “Gotcha!” He leaps onto the bed, tackling me as he collides with my body, laughing, I push him off. We lay on our backs, both lost in the heap of pillows and blankets on my bed. I turn so that I’m on my side facing him. Giving Lyon my mischievous smile, hands raised in his direction, I make a claw like shape with my fingers.

  “Oh-ho, you think you got me?” I taunt as I struggle to find his little squirming body, “Watch out, I think the Tickle Monster is the one who got you!” I finish as I set to work tickling his little belly while peals of laughter rings from the rafters. It’s the most rewarding sound to hear, a child’s laughter that is. But, little do people realize how loud a child can get when laughing, soon into those moments of outburst they can hit a frequency only dogs can hear but yet somehow still manage to deafen you. That is the sound my nephew hits quite frequently at this time of the morning. I’m glad I don’t live in an apartment.

  “Okay, Lyon, calm down and breathe, the Tickle Monster has officially run into hiding.” He rolls over, a tear streaming down his face from laughter and my breath catches. He looks so much like Deacon in this moment that I have to keep myself from bursting into unhappy tears. I reach out and grab Lyon hugging him tight, taking in a deep breath and smelling his strawberry shampoo scent.

  Every morning we go through this routine, every morning we start it off with smiles and most of the time laughing until we cry. Because I made a promise since that day that the only tears that will come out of this little boy’s eyes from now on would be the happy ones.

  “Bonk!” I touch my finger to his nose. “Why don’t you go and start pulling out the waffle mix and I will be there in a few minutes.” He nods eagerly and bounces off the bed then darts across the room to pick up his tennis ball.

  He starts to head out the room while bouncing it.

  ‘Thump, thump.’ I blink.

  Ah, that reminds me of my dream.

  “Hey, did you bounce your ball earlier?” I call out after him. He walks backwards and stops bouncing, looking back at me from the doorway, giving me a cheeky smile.

  I take that as a yes.

  I shake my head trying to dislodge all the ominous thoughts of my dream.

  “You know, you’re not meant to play with a ball in the house Lyon.” I give him my best stern, disapproval look.

  “You said I can’t play with my soccer ball but not a tennis ball.” He gives me another cheeky grin, while folding his arms. Still clutching the ball to try and make his point. I roll my eyes.

  Kid has a point. Note to self; be more specific with him.

  “Ok, ok, smarty pants I give you that, but what I meant was all types of balls.”

  “But….” He pouts.

  I waggle a finger at him trying very hard not to smile. “Nuh-nuh. Now shoo! I’m hungry too!” He runs of in fits of giggles. I sigh, knowing he won’t listen and will carry on when he thinks I can’t hear him.

  “What the hell,” I look at the time on the alarm clock. 5:35 AM, “Crap” I mumble getting to my feet.

  We’re going to be late.

  I get up, stretch, and head for the bathroom. These early mornings are taking their toll on me. I don’t understand how there are mothers out there who love getting up this early and can do so with a smile on their faces.

  I sigh, and place my hands on either side of the sink looking into the large brown mirror above it. My skin looks pale and I have dark circles under my eyes from the lack of sleep, even makeup can’t seem to touch it. These past eight months have been hard not only having to cope with the deaths of the two people I loved more than life, but having to adapt at being a sole guardian for Lyon. The stress of feeling like I’m somehow inadequate that I’m doing things wrong, or that I will fail him keeps me up at night; I stare into the mirror.

  Who am I now without them?

  I feel like I’m walking around like a zombie, feeling lost. Lyon helps though, when he’s around I almost feel normal, like myself. But once he’s at school and everything is quiet I start to lose myself to the endless spiral of dark thoughts.

  After washing my face and drying it off I reach for my moisturizer and stop short when I see photograph of my brother, Deacon, Marissa, and Lyon.

  Deacon is wearing a floppy fishing hat with bells and feathers hanging down. I bought him it for a joke. Lyon is holding a big fish standing in the middle of them. They all wear proud smiles which light up their faces. It was taken a few summers ago when they were on vacation and had rented a boat for fishing.

  The picture of Deacon and Marissa stands on the left side of my vanity sink; Marissa really was the glue that had kept us together as a family. I miss her hugs. She would wrap me in her arms; I always felt warm and comforted and loved, not unlike how I felt when I think back to my mother’s hugs. My eyes start to fill up. She really was a beautiful person, an amazing mother. She was that type of mom, always perky and happy, full of energy and looking awesome before serving breakfast.

  I could never be even half of the person she was.

  I touch Marissa’
s image with a wet finger, stroking as if I could actually touch her, making wet streaks across the glass.

  “How did you do it, Riss?” I ask. She made everything seem effortless.

  I look to Deacon and run my finger over his image wishing if I rubbed hard enough he would come back to me.

  Thinking of him hurts beyond words. I know when the pain eases a little I will want to remember Deacon’s smiling eyes; iridescent pearl, the color that appears to have every color thrown into one, never knowing what color I would see until the light hits it. And if the light did hit it just right, the portion of his right eye would be visible with a tinted gold in the iris. They were a mirror image of my own and just like Lyons. We have partial Heterochromia Iridium and the types of colors we have are rare or at least we haven’t seen anyone else like it.

  I remember how Lyon looked earlier with his eyes crinkled, watery with humor and the way his lip turned up slightly on the right a little more than on the left when he smiles, just like his father.

  I grip the sink hard again and lean over it, trying to take deep even breaths.

  I know eventually I will want to hold close to all my memories of them, good and bad. But right now, it hurts to even think about them. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to stop the memories that are coming.

  I can almost hear Deacon’s laugh. It was so contagious that anyone near him couldn’t help but start laughing too. I miss our mornings on the beach, surfing and sitting on our boards talking about anything and everything in the world. He was my best friend, my other half – my twin. He completed me. Without him, there was no me.

  Who am I without him?

  My heart is missing a vital piece as it tries to continue beating every single day through the pain. I rub at the now empty spot in my chest, trying to alleviate the hurt.

  Tears splash on to the sink. I quickly wipe them away.

  Why does it hurt so bad? I lost my parents and that hurt a lot and I miss them terribly, but not like this.

  I take one last deep breath and move my hand to touch Deacon’s image one last time and whisper to his happy smiling face, “I love you so much it hurts, and miss you more each day. “I’ll try not to let you down.” I whisper to them as their ghosts stare back at me from the photo.

  I sigh, splashing cold water on my face rubbing my eyes.

  I need to get ready.

  “Aunt Dill Pickle?” Lyon shouts from the kitchen.

  “Yes, Lyon-Wyon?” I automatically respond, drying my face once again in the soft purple towel.

  “Hurry up!” I laugh. One thing is true; he keeps me on my toes and brings me much needed bursts of happiness.

  “Coming!” I shout. I kiss my index and middle finger and touch it to the photograph; giving them one last look as I head to the kitchen.

  ***

  I moan over a mouth full of fluffy warmness. I must say I might not be fit for looking beautiful before dawn, but I sure can make some mean waffles.

  “Do you think Mommy and Dada are watching down on us right now?” Lyon looks up at me with an innocent expression. The first morning he asked me this, it was the second hardest question I have ever had to respond to. Now we have a routine, and we are both comfortable and happy in it.

  “But of course, Ly!” I smile at him and swipe my fingers back through his hair. “Daddy knows you’ve got your big tee ball game tonight so he’s tuning in and Mommy keeps on whispering what she knows you want in your lunch for school today!”

  “She always gets it right, I don’t know how!” he confesses to me in a huff. I chuckle. The mind of a kid really isn’t all that difficult; they usually stick to eating a few select things.

  Right now, Lyon is in a PB&J phase. Thank heavens he doesn’t prefer something more complicated because preparing a lunch for his Kindergarten is easy for me in the morning.

  “Well, moms are good like that.” I state simply.

  “And so are aunts” He smiles back at me.

  My heart tugs.

  It’s these moments that make this whole crazy mess of my new life worth it. He gives me a reason to exist now.

  “Alright munchkin, time to get ready for school.”

  “Yesssss!” he thrusts his tiny fist in the air and runs off down the hall, carrying his whirlwind of energy with him.

  Two outfit changes later, we are on our way to school. The fashion choices have been made by Lyon since he didn’t like what I put out for him. I figure the Kindergarten teacher won’t mind a Ninja turtle Lyon on the bottom half and Batman Lyon on the top half attending today. I shake my head, smirking at his clothing choice.

  I shuffle both myself and Lyon in the car thankfully on time.

  ***

  I hate being stuck in morning rush hour traffic. I sigh, running a hand over my hair. I’m going to be late at this rate, and I cannot be late.

  Not today.

  We left in good time. I knew it would be too good to be true!

  “Come on.” I mutter impatiently. I reach over and put a CD in the stereo, turning up the volume as a distraction.

  Lyon and I start jamming out to our current favorite song, singing along at the top of our lungs. Finally, traffic starts to move. I let out a relieved breath and carry on singing, getting funny looks from cars as they pass by. I shrug, not giving a damn.

  “Shit!” I grip the steering wheel hard, heart thumping as I narrowly avoid missing the crossing guard. I look to Lyon, and he has a little smirk on his face. I blink. It amazes me how much he has overcome since he is comfortable to ride in a car now. I don’t ever want to see the Lyon who I had to witness right after the accident, trembling so bad and being so nervous that he would get sick and start wetting himself.

  Then hits me.

  Oh!

  I slap a hand over my mouth.

  “What I meant to say was shi-taaki-mushrooms not that other word. That other word is bad, do not use it!” He just giggles.

  Bad parenting points go to me!

  “I mean it!” He nods, I narrow my eyes.

  “I won’t I promise!”

  “Good, make sure you don’t. Your mommy and dada will tell me if you do. They see and hear everything.” I probably should be feeling bad about threatening him with that, but adulting is hard let alone parenting. Hopefully the teacher will phone me if he does.

  “Ok Aunt Dill.” He nods solemnly. I really need to watch my mouth more around him.

  “Good boy.”

  Eventually we make it to school, and are finally able to park after trying to find a parking space for the last five minutes. I look at Lyon through the rear-view mirror, trying to do a serious face.

  “Ok Lyon, please listen to Miss Misty today and DO NOT let Fred roam free if you get a chance to hold him.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” he replies with his up-to-no-good little smile. Shaking my head and chuckling at him, I turn to unbuckle Lyon out of his car seat.

  So, I haven’t exactly conquered that terrifying ‘mom look,’ so sue me.

  Fred was the classrooms pet frog. Let’s just say that was quite the spectacle. Miss Misty found it funny, but the little girls in his class freaked. His behavior has changed a little, though I don’t think he could be a bad kid even if he tried. But with everything that he’s going through, I can’t say I’m surprised. His therapist warned me of the possibility of changed behavior, but if this is how he will act out then I’m just grateful it’s nothing too bad.

  Lyon gives me a quick hug and gets out.

  Have a good day!” I shout after him. He waves in response.

  Taking a deep breath, I look to my floorboard to make sure I have my case file with me. “No big deal, you got this Dillon” I pep talk myself while trying to ignore the slickness slowly gathering on my palms. I have been preparing for this day for a long time now. I just hope it will all go smoothly. It probably will be the most important appointment in Lyon’s and my life.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Happy thoughts think happy thoughts! S
unsets, the beach, kite boarding; crap!” – Tucker

  Tucker

  I wake with a start at the sound of my roommate, Connor to be precise, screaming at the top of his lungs for someone to take care of an ‘invading mafia situation.’ I jump out of bed in a tangle of bed sheets, tripping and falling down, smacking my head on the leg of my metal bed.

  That’s going to leave a mark.

  With no time to waste, I quickly brush myself off and rush to the kitchen with my baseball bat held up high, ready to take the intruders on.

  How dare they come into our house!

  Wearing nothing but my navy boxer shorts, I step through the doorway. However, as I look around, I only see Connor pointing at the completely empty state of the kitchen. Where are the intruders? I frown as I do a basic sweep of the room again, making sure no one else is here. I rub my sore head in confusion.

  What the hell is going on?

  I follow Connor’s pointing finger to find his mafia situation happens to be just a few dime sized brown spiders. Upon further inspection of the mess, I discover he has decided to try to take care of it alone. I guess I at least need to give him some credit for trying, though not so much for the destruction and nearly giving me a heart attack at such a young age.

  While he might have done his best, his spider phobia seems to throw off his aim. If I didn’t know him and were to take a guess, it would seem that he used the water flowing from the sink hose to take care of his little problem. Water is covering the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and the windows. It’s absolutely everywhere. Since I do know him, and know exactly what he is capable of, it makes sense witnessing the devastation of our kitchen. Although, why he couldn’t have removed the water straight away is beyond me.

  A few of the light oak wood cabinet doors are hanging by the remaining hinges; one is even lying by the stainless-steel dishwasher submerged in a puddle of water. Our midnight blue matching dishes lay broken and scattered about in sharp angles on our once white tiled floors. Looking around at the wreckage it looks as if someone has decided to throw large chunks of confetti everywhere.