The Airdrie Firefly

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Life's Third Great Tragedy

It has been said there are two great tragedies in life: not getting what you want and getting it.

Steven Digs was sure there had to be a third. He was looking right at it, and as he did, many questions poured into his mind—questions that all started with the same word: Why?

Why would someone do this? Why did it smell so bad? And, why was a thick white goo oozing out of it?

Dead flesh, at least seven pounds of it, pulverized and reshaped by a deranged mind, Steven thought. Anyone would call it a tragedy, but his mother insisted it was meatloaf. He jabbed at it defensively with his fork, and the thick white goo went from oozing to gushing.

"Please let that be cheese," Steven said in a hushed exhale to no one.

"Steven, dear," his mom said, "have you started eating?"

Speaking of a deranged mind . . .

"Please wait for your father to come home."

Every Saturday night his mother would try to set a new record for the world's worst meatloaf, and every Saturday night he would do whatever he could to eat as little as possible. Then, for the rest of the week, he would get two-inch slabs of meatloaf sandwich for lunch. Talyn used to sneak him lunches to save him from going hungry, but that had stopped two months ago.

Two months. Two months since he'd had any meaningful contact with Talyn. Steven pulled his phone out of his pocket. He stared at it for a moment, his thumb hovering over the message icon. Then the word that had plagued him so much today struck again, but this time, it seemed to strike deeper than before: Why? Why won't she talk to me? Why? He was really starting to hate the word.

The usual racket of his dad's "classic" car pulling into the garage signaled the end was near. He was all out of excuses and, even worse, he was all out of ketchup. It was either time to tough it out and eat it, or hurt his mom's feelings and confess he didn't like it. But as soon as he heard the screech of the car door opening, he could smell it. It was subtle, but it was there. Pizza! The door to the house opened and it poured in: sauce, cheese, oregano, basil, and every good thing.

"I invited Buster and Talyn over to celebrate," Steven's dad said cheerfully.

"Talyn? Oh dear . . ." Steven's mom said anxiously before a small grin spread across her face.

Steven's mom loved Talyn. She was her godmother and every bit the mother that she could be for her. But Talyn was a vegetarian. The oozy-mound on the table and its stench would be upsetting.

Talyn? Coming here? Tonight? Steven thought, before he made a mental note to stop thinking. If one more thought filled his mind, he might forget his name or where lived. There simply was no more room at the proverbial inn.

His mom cleared the oozy-mound off the table and started opening windows.

The unusually warm May air poured into the house on a soft breeze, carrying the heavy trill of a chorus of frogs down by Nose Creek. The winter had been an exceptionally mild one for southern Alberta, resulting in a lot more frogs' surviving and the loudest frog song Steven had ever heard. It would be a full moon tonight, so the soothing trill would last late into the evening. Conditions would be perfect for what had to be done later tonight, if the unpredictable prairie wind could stay calm.