Skater Boy

Chapter 9: Three Years Later

Chapter 9: Three Years Later

                  I'm not dead, mind you. 


                  I'm one of the main characters. I can't be dead. 


                  This is Stella Bluer, reporting for duty of narrating my side of this story. 


                  Wow! Three years have already passed. I'm doing fine. I'm far from dead and I'm living a great life. I'm a businesswoman (I own a ballet school now) and also a proud mom. 


                  "Momma Stella!" Steven, who is my son, shrieked. 


                  "My baby," I said as I carried him in my arms. 


                  "What is it, baby?" I asked as I rocked him back and forth.


                  "Brettfast. Brettfast!" he yelled and grinned. 


                  "It's breakfast, honey, breakfast. I corrected you yesterday, remember?"


                  "Cowwect?" he asked curiously. 


                  "Yeah, honey. Correct. I corrected you with the pronunciation."


                  "Prashiation?"


                  "Oh, honey," I said with a bit of exasperation. "It's the way you speak things."


                  Steven blinked quickly. 


                  "Okay then," I said patiently. "What do you want for breakfast?"


                  "Fwosties!"


                  "Okay honey. I'll pour it for you. Wait a minute."


                  I gently put him down and got the box of cereals, a bowl and the milk. I poured the milk on the Frosties. Steven was struggling to sit on the high chair. 


                  "Careful, honey," I reminded him.


                  "When's my birthday, Momma Stella?" Steven asked as he ate a spoonful of his cereal. 


                  "Eleventh of February, honey."
Now that I think of it, his birthday's only two weeks from now. 


                  "What do you want to do on your birthday?" I asked after a few moments. 


                  "Hmm..." He paused. "Where's Daddy, Momma?" 


                  That suddenly surprised me. He never asked that kind of question before. 


                  "He's gone, sweetie." I said as gently as I could.

                  
Steven looked at me innocently. "When is he coming back?" he asked. 


                  "Oh honey..." I said sadly. "He's not coming back."


                  "Why?" he said. He's about to cry in front of his unfinished cereal. 


                  I looked at him and gulped. "He's dead, Steven."


                  "Dead?" he asked. "What's dead? Does that mean he's never coming back and I'll never have a Daddy ever?" he sobbed.