Obsessive Daydreams & Beautiful Nightmares

The Good Mother

I was shaking in my room, trying to calm myself but to no avail. The wheels of my mind kept turning as they tried to make sense of the revelation from just an hour ago. Never had I faced the reality of pure and utter insanity.

About two weeks ago, I had left my home in Chili to come study here in the States. I was privileged enough to be provided affordable lodging with an elderly couple and their son. It sounded perfect to me. I prefered the idea of living with them instead of a younger family since their son was closer to my age.

I always liked Mrs. Miller, even from the minute her warm smile greeted me at her front door. She had something about her that just made you feel at home.

She practically dragged me inside and introduced me to her husband. His lean frame easily towered above mine. He wore a really awkward smile, almost apologetic.

"You won't be meetin' my son Dustin today. He's in bed sick," Mrs. Miller chirped beside me.

I noticed Mr. Miller closing his eyes as if he were in pain before opening them again and walking away. It was strange.

"Please don't mind my husband. He's really a great guy once you get to know him, just a little hard-headed," she gave me the warmest smile yet and I couldn't help but give her one back.

She showed me up to my room, where I am now, after giving me a quick tour through the cozy house. It wasn't what I was expecting, but I couldn't complain.

"It was my sewing room before it was converted. I know it probably isn't to your liking, but I hope it will do.

I scanned the pages taked from old fashion magazines and random stickers stuck to the pastel purple walls. I was amazed that they managed to fit a desk, a dresser and a double bed in the tight space. I convinced myself that all I really needed in a room was a place to sleep, put my clothes and do my work. I turned to her and said my thanks before settling in.

Supper was not the usual affair I experienced at home. I was used to sitting at a table with my four siblings and my parents as we all conversed over our meals. Mrs. Miller showered me with stories of Dustin, telling me how much we would get along once we were introduced whereas Mr. Miller either seemed indifferent to the conversation or extremely sorrowful. I chose to ignore him as I continued listening to his wife.

Mrs. Miller was right though, I did get used to him. I learnt that as quiet and detached as he could be, he was a caring, gentle being. You wouldn't know that from his words but rather from the warmth that occasionally flickered in his eyes and his mannerisms towards his wife. He would even try to strike a conversation with me at times. It always ended up being awkward, but I appreciated the effort.

It had almost been a week that I had lived with this family and I was beginning to find it strange that I hadn't yet met Dustin. I won't lie, had it not been for him I probably wouldn't have wanted to live with the Millers in the first place. I wanted to have someone to show me around this foreign town and I couldn't expect his parents to do that. As much as I liked his parents, I craved the company of someone closer to my age as I hadn't really made friends at my varsity yet. At this point, Dustin was just a story.

I asked Mrs. Miller how he was doing as she came downstairs from having taken his medication to him.

She sighed, "He isn't showing any signs of improvement, but I trust he will be well soon."

"Well have you taken him to go see a doctor? It could be serious." I was genuinely concerned.

"Nah," her eye cast downwards, " Mr. Miller said it aint necessary and I agree with him." She looked back at me with a reassuring smile," but don't you worry. I've been takin' care of Dustin for all his life and he's always made a comeback."