Flathead Plains

Chapter Three

Jonas slowly crawled through the window of his small, suburban house and into his bedroom, where he landed with a thud.

Shaking himself off, he got up and stripped down to put on boxer shorts.

Suddenly, he heard a squeak of the floorboards as he turned around and saw his mother watching with a sad expression on his face.

"Mother!" he exclaimed. He examined her outfit; a small pink robe and generic curlers in her hair. Oddly, she was holding a rolling pin. Jonas bustles to put on his shorts.

"Whatever happened to my little boy," commented Jonas's mother softly. Then, whipping herself back into reality, she said with a glare "why did you sneak off?! Was it some sort of party? Did you drink?! Are you drunk?!"

"No, mom!" groaned Jonas.

"Let me check your breath!"

"No, mom!"

Jonas's mother set her hand on Jonas's face as she inhaled Jonas's breathing.

"You're drunk! There's alcohol!"

"No mom! I don't floss!"

Jonas's mother glared at Jonas before sighing. She set down her rolling pin and ran her free hand through her curler-strewn hair.

"Whatever happened to my little boy, eh?" she whispered. "Don't be like your father."

"I won't, mom," answered Jonas gravely.

"Okay then."

"And mom?"

"Yes?" said Jonas's mother sharply.

"Um...after summer school I'm going to...do something." Jonas's mind struggled to find an excuse.

"What sort of something?"

"A..." Jonas was terrible at lying, and he knew it. "A party!"

"A party?! I told you not--"

"Not a party, no mom, not a party. A...gathering. With one friend."

Jonas's mother stood still, staring at Jonas with an eyebrow raised.

"Mom," said Jonas. "You're looking at me like you don't believe me."

"No, I do," she answered. "It's just..."

She trailed off, then turned around and hobbled to the doorway. "Goodnight Jonas."

"Goodnight mom. Er, wait! You forgot your rolling pin."

"Just leave it be," she said as she walked back to her room. "Just leave it be."

"Okay," murmured Jonas.

Ever since the accident,  Jonas's mother has been different. It affected both of them greatly, but unlike Jonas, Jonas's mother liked to talk about it. She would talk about it, but keep herself hidden in her feelings. Jonas often compared her to a child hiding under her blanket. She would talk about her fears to her parents, but would never be brave enough to lift her blanket to confront them.

The accident affected Jonas badly too, but he dealt with it by pretending not to care and looking at the stars.

Jonas looked at the night sky because he took comfort in the glimmering stars above. It seemed like they would never die. They would always be there. No accident would take anything away.

But deep down, even though he refused to accept it, he knew the stars could blink away. They could vanish, or explode, or anything. All he knew was that the stars aren't permanent.

Nothing is permanent. And based off the evidence he's seen, love isn't either.

Jonas climbed into his bed, brushing his shaggy brown hair to the side. His shattered bedside mirror reflected his reflection. It was the first he's seen of himself in days.

He had brown hair that he hated and an unattractive sprinkle of freckles across his nose. His mother said he had eyes like his father. They were a dull brown, unlike his mother's, which was like staring into a colorful galaxy.

Jonas switched his gaze from the mirror to the dark ceiling. He shut his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep.

The sky was dark the day of the accident. It was like the happiness of sunshine had been washed away by hard rain and hail. And at night, the stars were almost invisible, and then moon was shaded. No light could comfort anyone.

Jonas slept soundly under the covers under his bed. The wind, the pounding hail, and the rain didn't interrupt his slumber, nor did it his mother's.

Suddenly, a loud screeching occurred. It startled Jonas and his mother from their slumber.

Jonas sprang from his bed on his eight-year old legs and ran to his bedroom window as soon as the house illuminated with sparks.

Outside his window, he saw a car, aflame with fire. The car was an Impala.

That was his father's car.

Jonas ran through the house, coming to his mother's room. Jonas's mother was staring at the window wide-eyed, as if she thought what she was seeing was a dream or an illusion.

"Come on, mama!" yelled Jonas. He grabbed his mother's hand and tugged her down the stairs to the first level of their house.

He pushed through the front door and ran to the flaming car.

"Dad!" he shouted.

His mom stood shocked, then shook herself back to the present as she called the police through her cheap flip phone.

A cop arrived soon, as she lived next door with her husband and soon-to-be baby.

"Back up!" the policewoman yelled as she called the ambulance and another squad of police.

Jonas's father was found in the car with broken bottles of alcohol. He died on impact with the other vehicle.

Jonas sobbed. His mother stared. The last thing both of them saw of their father was a broken body.

There was no stars.