An Envelope: A Collection

Losses

"Go play upstairs," the boy's grandmother had said as she waved him away with the springy telephone cord. "Go away," she meant. He was disturbing her chat on the phone, hovering near her like that,interrupting the moment the person on the other line began to speak.But he couldn't help it. His mother was at the store, his father was holed up in the office catching up on work, even though it was technically a vacation. There was no one to play with him. He had to entertain himself. That's what she meant when she said to go play upstairs. The little boy nodded, then took off running down the hallway, fast as a rocket. "ZHOOOM!"his engines rumbled as he dodged the ottoman – no, an asteroid."Prepare for landing," he mumbled into the invisible walkie-talkie he gripped as he settled down next to the glass coffee table. His engines shut off and all was silent again. But he was a seasoned captain; he knew that he shouldn't let his guard down.Aliens could be around any corner.

His hazel eyes darted about in search of anything suspicious. The bookshelves that stood on either side of the window were filled the same brightly colored travel books as ever. No aliens there. A potted plant lazily draped its leaves onto the radio below. That radio,which replaced a television or a CD player, dreamily emitted the soft whining of a violin. He didn't like the music, but at least there were no aliens. Across from the boy's glass docking station was the couch, looking a lot like three scoops of vanilla ice cream. The horse in the painting hung over the couch had not moved since that morning. The coffee table, sparkling and clear, carried a bowl of glittering fruit on its back. The boy wondered if the fruit was as sweet as it looked. In fact, the living room was filled with little,candy-like glass trinkets. Maybe he shouldn't be here after all, he could break something. He began to feel uneasy, when he noticed one of the chenille throws draped over the back of the couch has disappeared. His stomach flopped. Had he accidentally yanked the expensive cloth from its resting place? He didn't want to know what would happen if it was his fault. Surely, it was an alien's doing!

The boy leaped to his feet and dashed up the stairs before any alien claws could reach him. He could hear the soft carpet tear beneath the creature's razor-sharp nails. He flung himself into the first room he reached, and slammed the door behind him. The gnarly green talons could not penetrate the thick wooden door of the guest room.

The closet door was made of glass, and it reflected a sandy-haired boy with hazel eyes and a round face full of freckles. No, not just a boy. A cowboy. A ten-gallon hat manifested itself on that dirty blonde hair, casting a shadow down to its wearer's button nose. He curled and uncurled his gloved fingers. He was missing something. A cowboy needed a steed. With a snap of his fingers, the glass door opened to reveal a stable filled with stallions. Three of them came up to the fence. They recognized their master, and whinnied in greeting. The boy grasped their reins, savoring the firmness of the leather.

"We got a long day waitin' for us, boys," he spoke as he fed them carrots and sugar cubes. "Our cattle got stealed again. We gotta go to Cat Blankie Mountain and save 'em." He pointed to the bluff towering above the sparse landscape.

The boy paused and stared at the bed. The comforter was decorated with images of cats. Some of them played with yarn, while others looked like they were about to curl up for a nap. There was a picture of a cat above the bed, too. This was the cat room, where the little boy slept. A den of cats.

All of a sudden, he lost interest in the wooden horse in his hand.The set had been purchased for him the year before, and waited for him at his grandmother's house, but he scarcely played with it. Some wood carved into the two-dimensional shape of a horse could only hold his attention for so long. Right now, he was much too transfixed by the cats peering at him from the comforter to care about the horses.

The boy closed his eyes and found himself transformed into the king of all felines – a lion. The cat on the wall, the one that often kept the little boy up at night, looked like a newborn kitten compared to his ferocity! The lion let out a snarl as he paced around his den. The cats, his cousins, cowered in fear.

"The lion is hungry," he growled, the familiar gnawing sensation spreading through his powerful body. He pawed at the entrance of the den until the smell of someone cooking downstairs reached his sensitive nose.

The carpet felt soft and silky on his skin as he crept along the hallway, and it sank beneath the weight of his powerful paws. Prey was nearby, he could hear it, he could smell it. He settled on the stairs, resting on his haunches, and peered through the gap between the steps. The living room lay empty before him, the various glass objects twinkling beneath the yellow lights. The chenille blanket lay, crumpled and abandoned, behind the couch. The lion could see all of the living room from his elevated hiding place. But there was the sound of porcelain hitting marble countertop, so he slipped down a level. There was a wedge cut out in the wall, giving the beast on the stairs a glimpse into the kitchen. Grandmother flitted about the small space, mixing liquids in bowls. Something was baking. A small growl escaped from the lion's stomach.

"I need fooood...!" he roared as he bounded down the stairs on all fours. He tumbled off the last step and flung himself into the living room. A little bowl of butterscotch candies sat on the sidetable next to the couch. He had spotted his prey! Teeth bared, claws ready to sink into his victim's sweet flesh, he let out a fearsome roar and threw himself against the table...

The bowl of candy was flung off the table, the contents scattered to the floor. The lion did not taste sweet butterscotch, but wood varnish,and a hint of copper. With a gasp, the lion vanished in an instant,leaving behind a little sandy-haired boy sprawled on his back with his hand against his mouth. Pain shot through his gums, and something hard and pointy rolled around on his tongue. He reached in with trembling fingers and pulled out a tiny, white square. A tooth. A tooth! The boy's eyes welled up with tears as the horrific realization spread out through his chest. Something that had once been inside him was now outside! His tongue probed the gap where his front tooth had once been, and instead of the familiar hardness, he discovered something strange and soft. By now, all trace of the sturdy rocket ship and its reliable captain, the fearless cowboy, and the ferocious lion were gone, and the little boy succumbed to his confusion. He wailed.

There was a loud crash from the kitchen and the grandmother appeared in a frenzy. "Oh my, look at you!" she exclaimed as she reached down to comfort him with her gentle, wrinkled hands. "Now, now, stop crying, it's just one little bump..."

The front door closed heavily around the corner, plastic bags rustled, and a familiar voice sighed as the boy's mother entered the living room. She set her groceries on the small dining room table and looked at her mother and son, both sitting on the soft, off-white carpet. "What's this?" she inquired, and the boy stretched out his hand and uncurled his small fingers. Both women looked at the tiny white tooth, and the boy's mother erupted into laughter. "It looks like someone's lost his first tooth!" She scooped the boy up in her arms and kissed his wet cheek. "Don't be scared, sweetie, it happens to all big boys eventually." Then she and the little boy curled up on the squishy ice cream couch, wrapped up in the chenille throw, as the mother stroked her son's hair. His tears had stopped,and as he cradled the little white tooth in his hands, his mother spoke to him in a gentle voice. "Now, my brave boy, have I ever told about the tooth fairy...?"

The boy let out a loud sniff and gazed at the tooth. It looked a little bit like a lion's.