The Magic City

The room bursts with sound, smell and color. People swarm around, breathing, talking, smiling, crying. Flowers lay everywhere; so bright and sweet. Too sweet; the kind of sweet that has something to hide. And Omar stands in the center of it all. He looks down at his shiny black dress shoes, navy blue suit and colorful tie. He loves wearing his good clothes, especially his tie. He loves how his dad smiles when he puts it on him, and afterwards when his mom kisses him on the cheek. But this time is different. Dad doesn't smile, and mom isn't there.
"Hey, let's go play!" Alvie cries energetically.
Omar looks up and shakes his head, causing his brown waves to dance on top of his head. "Not right now."
"Why not?" Alvie presses. "You always want to play."
Alvie's right. Any other day, Omar would jump at the chance to go with Alvie and embark on a great adventure, whatever it may be. But not today. At least not at the moment. Maybe it's the way the air seems heavy, pressing down on the young boy's shoulders. Or maybe it's just Omar. Either way, he shrugs off Alvie's pleas.
Alvie stomps away, upset by Omar's refusal. Omar's eyes dart around the room and settle on his dad and his grandparents a few paces behind him.
"How's he taking it?" his grandmother asks in her usual soft-spoken voice.
"He just seems kind of ... dazed. I'm not sure if it's really sunk in yet," his dad says, looking down at Omar, the left corner of his mouth curling sadly.
"The boy probably can't understand," Omar's grandfather mutters gruffly under a harsh breath, "thanks to all that fairy tale garbage Nadine fed him."
Omar's grandmother lets out a startled sigh. His dad swallows, a scowl spreading across his face. "Really? Not today, Dad."
There's an ugly pause between the three.
"You're right. I'm sorry Todd," the old man's voice softens. He puts a limp hand on his son's shoulder. He looks down at the boy at his feet. "Hey there bud, what you been up to?"
"I was just talking to Alvie," Omar replies.
"Who?"
"You remember, Grandpa. He came with me last time to Cincinnati. He's my best friend, but only I can see him," he tells his elder very matter of factly.
"Oh yes." The old man recalls, looking away. His voice drops down. "I remember."
"Omar, why don't you go and try to find Alvie, alright?" Todd butts in.
Omar nods and heads off in the opposite direction. He sees Alvie in the corner, sitting in a big bronze chair. He starts that way when, out of the corner of his eye, he follows the line of people leading to a glossy black box. He walks up to it, the flowery smell getting stronger. He can see his reflection beginning to show in the shiny object. He reaches out an olive-skinned hand when a weight falls upon his left shoulder. It's a hand, complete with long skinny fingers, scraped knuckles, dirty nails, and calloused tips; hands built for and by adventure.
"Omar. I have a secret," Alvie whispers rather loudly, with a certain urgency in his tone.
"What?" Omar turns to him, Alvie doesn't respond. He just stares at omar with wild eyes. Omar rolls his, "Really what is it. I told you Alvie, I'm not in the mood."
"Come on. We must speak somewhere else, somewhere more private," Alvie insists.
Omar just huffs, allowing Alvie to grab his arm and pull him to their destination. They go through a doorway to a hall leading to the back door. Alvie stops halfway to the door, releasing Omar's arm. Alvie stands nearly 6 inches above Omar, so Omar has to look up at Alvie, and Alvie has to look down on him. Alvie's breath, Omar notices, smells like bubble gum toothpaste and nachos, and not in the good way.
"What is it?" Omar asks.
"Haven't you been wondering what this place is?" he asks feverishly. "Don't you wonder why we're here? Or where your mom is?"
Omar does a half shrug and says, "I don't know. I just assumed she's at work and this is just another one of those family gatherings Mom and Dad are always dragging us to."
Alvie scoffs, "Look around Omar. This isn't a party or a get-together. Everybody's so somber. Where's the usual smiles, chit chat, and laughter?" He turns Omar to where he can see out the door to all the people. "And what's up with you? You're being pulled down, too."
"What's your point?" Omar asks, suddenly interested.
"Your mom was taken," Alvie tells Omar with a stoic expression on his face.
"What?" Omar exclaims, his face twisting.
"Shh," he orders Omar. "Yes. I saw them take her in the middle of the night, and I wasn't sure what to do."
"Them?" Omar asks. "Who's them?"
"Th...they were these monsters; dark and ghastly. I had encountered them before, during my travels before I met you. They're these shadow creatures. They thrive off of people's sadness and fear," Alvie says to Omar.
Omar looks up at Alvie in horror and says, "Well, we have to go tell someone."
"We can't do that. You see, everyone thinks that she...she's dead," Alvie strains to tell Omar. "We're at a funeral home."
"Wait, but why would they think something like that?" Omar questions him.
"You know how grown-ups are. Just look at your grandpa. It's easier for them to say she's dead then to look any further. They're scared. But we aren't. Omar, we understand, and we're the only ones who can save her. Please, help me save her," Alvie begs.
Omar shakes his head trying to collect his thoughts. He begins picking at his wrist, a nervous tick he has always seemed to have. He can almost hear his mother's voice telling him to stop. But he still picks. He looks up at Alvie.
"Of course I'll help you."
Alvie gets those crazy eyes again and his lips curl into a smile too big for his face, a smile that manages to be hopeful and devious all at the same time. All of Alvie is like that. He smells of innocence and reeks of mischief.
"So where would they have taken her?" Omar asks.
Alvie knits his eyebrows and after a little while says, "Well, the factory."
"Where she works?" Omar asks. "Why?"
"Well think about it, Omar. She absolutely despises that place. These monsters feed off that kind of stuff," Alvie shouts.
Omar's mother had worked at the factory for years. She kept track of all papers, documenting everything that happens in the building. Occasionally she would still work the machines, too. Regardless of what part of the factory she worked in, she dreaded it. She hated the hours, the pay, the working conditions, the noise. She especially loathed all the pollution that came from the machines. She would always come home complaining.
"Yeah, I guess it's worth a try," Omar says.
Alvie nods. "Well, we better go."
"Wait, we can't just leave," Omar says. "People will worry."
"Omar, look. Nobody even notices you're gone now. Plus, they'll just try and stop us," Alvie argues.
"Okay," Omar replies. "Let's go."
It's only ten paces to the door. No one can see them from around the corner. Omar turns the handle slowly and opens up the door. A breeze floats in. And just like that, they slip away.
Omar walks out into the busy city streets lined with sky-high buildings. Alvie trails behind him, rambling on a hundred miles per hour about what course of action to take next.
Omar turns to Alvie and says, "The bus stop is that way," as he points to other people standing on the sidewalk. A bus zooms past them. "We need to catch it. Let's go!"
Omar begins running as fast as his little legs can carry him.
"Wait!" Alvie exclaims, catching Omar's shoulder.
"We have to get the bus, or else it will be too late!" Omar yells up at him as people push past. They move against a building, out of the traffic.
"Think about it. We don't know the address, we don't have any money, and imagine how it'll look, a little kid getting onto a crowded bus," Alvie explains. "If this is going to work, we need to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. You're a little boy in a big city. If we aren't careful, we'll get sent back to the funeral home."
"Okay, then what else are we supposed to do?" Omar asks, looking up at Alvie puzzled. "I'm not sure if we can do this."
"Hey, it'll be alright. What did your mom tell you about this city?" Alvie asks.
"Magical," Omar recalls.
"Yes! Anything's possible here. Even this," Alvie assures him. "Now, we need supplies if we plan on kicking some monster butt. But, where can we get them?"
Omar thinks on it when it hits him: "The evil zookeeper's lair!"
Omar spent a lot a time with his mother at that place. The zookeeper despised his mom, and she would sometimes complain about him, but she wouldn't quit because she loved the animals. The zookeeper even looked evil, like a mad scientist in a cartoon.
"We have no time to waste, just follow me," Alvie says anxiously.
Omar has to run to keep up with Alvie's long legs. He was never one of the fastest kids in his school, and he didn't want to be. He would rather read or go on adventures with Alvie at recess, which made some of the kids laugh at him.
Suddenly, Omar snaps back into reality. He begins slowing down as he realizes what has happened in the past hour and what they are about to do. His heart is beating rapidly and picks at his wrists again, so many thoughts running through his head.
"Keep up!" Alvie shouts back at Omar.
He comes to a sudden halt, staring at a large sign. It reads "Harmony Adoption Center." They sneak around to the back alley. They know they'll never be able to make it past the zookeeper by going through the front. The zookeeper is as foolish as he is evil, and usually the door is unlocked. Much to their relief, this is one of those times. They creep in and the smell hits them immediately. Omar runs to the supply closet and grabs a bulky backpack normally used for long dog walks. Alvie instructs him to get leashes and some baseballs used for catch. Alvie clearly has a plan and seems to know what he's doing, so Omar does what he asks.
Hungry, Omar runs to the fridge where he knows the volunteers keep their lunches. He grabs apples, a water bottle, a jar of blackberry jelly, and a loaf of bread. He finds a butter knife and a jar of peanut butter next to the fridge in a tote. Omar and Alvie glance at each other and let out a sigh.
They begin towards the door, but they turn to see a portly man towering over them, his caterpillar eyebrows furrowing and his cheeks beginning to boil.
"Omar, what are you doing here?" his loud, hoarse voice startles them.
"Uhh..." Omar freezes, his hands trembling. "We, I mean, I just wanted to uhh ..."
"Run," Alvie whispers frantically.
Omar springs into action. He swings the backpack over his shoulder and sprints toward the front of the store. Alvie goes ahead. The zookeeper is right at Omar's heels, screaming for him to stop. They run straight into a room where the animal smell is strongest. Squawks, barks and squeals fill the air. Omar sprints through the maze of cages. The zookeeper's hands paw at him. Acting swiftly, Omar flicks open a cage, setting a bird free, and the zookeeper pauses as the animal wings past him.
Omar does the same to a number of other cages, putting a wall of fur and feathers between him and the zookeeper. They turn a corner and sprint down a short hallway toward a door marked "Exit." Breathlessly, they make it to the door and burst into the open air. They don't stop running for another two blocks.
They slow to a stop, and Alvie jumps in the air, adrenaline still pumping, as Omar sits on the ground and pulls out the water bottle. He takes a few sips. Omar is getting to his feet when something brushes against him. He jumps and looks down to see a giant golden paw with equally giant claws. He takes a step back, looks up, and comes face to chest with an enormous lion. Its golden fur and honey-colored mane seem to sparkle and shine in the sunlight, not in a cheap way like glitter, but in a brilliant way, like diamonds.
The creature stares down at Omar, its amber eyes looking into his. Omar reaches a shaky hand to the beast's nose. The beast nudges its head forward, allowing omar to pet its shaggy mane. The lion's heavy breaths shake Omar. Alvie walks up behind Omar in awe.
"So, what do we name him?" Alvie asks.
"What do you mean. He's not ours," Omar protests.
"Sure he is," Alvie insists. "He followed us all the way here. He's ours now. He'll grant us courage on our noble quest."
Omar thought about it, still petting the lion. He says, "I guess so, but he doesn't seem to belong to anyone."
"Either way he needs a name, Omar!" Alvie says, getting irritated.
"Uh fine, what about, uh, Leo?" Omar offers.
"Really? Leo?" Alvie grumbles. "How about Singh?"
"Eh, I don't know," says Omar.
Omar looks at the creature for a long moment.
"What about Kesari?" Omar asks.
"The 'ee' sound makes it too girly," Alvie whines.
"Your name ends in an 'ee' sound," Omar argues.
"Ugh, I know," Alvie scoffs.
"Then, Kesar?" Omar tries.
"Yeah, Kesar," Alvie agrees. "That's a name for a lion."
Alvie, Omar and Kesar go forward, the two boys discussing where to go. In the crowded street, no one seems to think much of the boy with a pet lion strolling past. Maybe Kesar is like Alvie, and only Omar can see him. Or maybe the people understand. Omar's mother always liked to tell him that the city is magical. She said some people understood the magic and others didn't. She would read Omar stories every night with kings, queens, elves, fairies, goblins, monsters and wizards. No matter the person or creature, the character always lived in a magical realm or kingdom. As Omar sees it, this city's a magical kingdom, and his mother is queen.
"Hey, look!" Alvie shouts, pointing up.
Omar follows his finger to a billboard displaying an ad for an ice rink.
"That ice rink is right by the factory, right?" Alvie asks. "If we get the address off that billboard, we will be able to get to the factory."
Omar reads aloud: "8135 Applewood Rd."
Under his breath, Omar repeats over and over, "8135 Applewood Rd."
The three of them go in a little crevice between two buildings. They pull out the bread, peanut butter, jelly and knife. Omar makes himself a sandwich. He offers a second sandwich to either Alvie or Kesar. Alvie refuses, while Kesar happily accepts the sandwich and devours it. After Omar finishes his meal, he washes it down with a swig of water and puts everything away.
They relax for a second between the two buildings. Omar looks at the street. Another beautiful part of the city. His city. Omar admires a little blue bench on the other side of the street when he sees a dark figure begin looming over it.
"Alvie do see that?" Omar panics.
Alvie sees the shadow-like figure and yells, "That's it! That's one of the monsters!"
They jump up and run after it, Kesar right behind them. They maneuver their way through traffic and down the street, chasing after the pitch-black silhouette moving at rapid speed away from them. They see it slip around a corner into an alley and follow, but when they round the corner, it's gone.
Alvie kicks a trash can over and grunts in frustration. Kesar examines what fell over as Omar catches his breath. After a moment, they walk out of the alleyway.
Back out onto the street, Omar sees the mural his mom helped paint last year. He loves this mural. A girl colored black and white is surrounded by intricate patterns and vibrant colors spreading across the whole wall. Down at the corner of the painted wall is a picture surrounded by flowers and candles. Omar had seen a picture surrounded by flowers and candles on the sidewalk before. His grandpa was in town and had offered to drive Omar to school. They stopped to get gas, and outside of the store was a decorated picture of a boy with blue eyes. Omar asked his grandpa what the arrangement was and his grandpa told him the boy had been shot in the store and died. His grandpa said the picture was a way to pay tribute.
Omar walks closer to the picture. It's his mother. Omar is as sure of that as he's ever been of anything. Her slender nose, long, black hair, olive skin, dark eyes and the mole above the left corner of her mouth. Omar's eyes travel down to a note saying "In Loving Memory of Nadine Fisher."
"Alvie, why is my mom's picture here?" Omar questions. "They make these to honor dead people. Like the boy from the gas station."
Alvie sighs, "Omar, I told you. Everyone thinks your mom's dead. That's why we have to save her. Now, let's figure out who has directions for the ice rink."
"Okay," Omar agrees. He takes one last glance at the mural and walks off.
Omar and Alvie try to find people who will give them directions to the ice rink, as Kesar follows them, brushing between the two and walking by their side.
It begins to rain, and the streets start clearing out. They ssee a girl running into a building, her jacket over her head.
"Hey! Pardon me, ma'am!" Omar yells after her.
"Oh, hi," she says in cheery voice. "You're soaked. Here, come inside. Oh, but not your little pet. So sorry."
Omar pets Kesar real quickly, then he goes inside to this giant lobby with red walls and a gold ceiling.
"We need directions to the 8135 Applewood Rd. The ice rink."
"Oh, okay," the woman says.
She turns around and takes the coat off her head to reveal feathers around her eyes, on her torso and on her arms, almost making wings. She sits on the ground and takes off her shoes and starts putting strange socks on her feet. She then puts each foot in a boxy toed slipper and laces them. She stands up.
"The skate rink? Well that's just three blocks away. Go straight down this street, take left on Applewood and stop when you see it." As she speaks, she rises onto the tips of her shoes and comes back down so softly it's like she's levitating. "You sure you don't want to call your mom or dad?"
"No we just need to get to the ice rink fast," Omar tells her.
"Well, if you cut straight through the park and across the street, you'll get there quicker," she tells Omar. "I gotta go, but you can stay here while the rain slows down.
"Thanks, ma'am," Omar yells as the bird woman runs through two large doors.
Alvie looks at Omar and says, "Come on let's go."
But Omar peers through the two large doors and sees a whole army of levitating bird people flying around a huge stage, their wings in the air and their feet barely touching the ground. A few minutes of awe later, he returns to Alvie, suddenly feeling prepared for whatever lies ahead.
They look out, and the rain has stopped. They go outside where Kesar is waiting, and the air is cool and sticky. Omar and Alvie sprint across the street and into the park, Kesar right by their side. Omar jumps over puddles as they go, careful not to ruin his good shoes. Maybe it's from just seeing the flying bird people, the smell of rain in the air, the fact that he is on his way to a fight, or maybe it's just Omar, but as he runs he feels lighter than ever.
They run past basketball hoops and jungle gyms until they can see the rink and factory just behind it. Then suddenly their view turns pitch black. They look up and see a shadow monster towering over them and starting to take form. It plants itself sturdily into the ground. Limbs start protruding out of it, too many to count. Its limbs start thrashing at them.
Alvie throws the contents of their backpack at the monster, and Kesar claws at it, roaring so loudly the ground shakes. Nothing seems to work. Omar charges the monster, jumping onto one of its long limbs. Omar finds his footing and begins rocking back and forth. The monster flings its arms around, trying to get the boy off of it, but Omar stands strong. Alvie frantically ties the leashes together and wraps them around the tree. Alvie grabs the leash with his hands and pulls as Kesar follows suit, locking his jaw around the makeshift rope.
They pull, Omar rocks and the monster lets out an ear-piercing screech. Alvie and Kesar run out of the way, and Omar jumps onto the ground just before the monster falls with a thud so great it sends a ripple through the grass.
They collect themselves and their things. Omar and Alvie look at each other, each giving the other a nod, and they're off toward the factory.
They make it to a large blue building with smoke-filled pipes coming out of the top of it. The factory. Omar and Alvie run around searching for an opening. They split up, trying every door and window. Omar tries a door knob when Alvie screams, "OMAR!"
"What?" Omar yells.
"Come here!" he shrieks
Omar runs over to Alvie, who is kneeling next to a window.
"It's broken," he observes.
"We can't fit through there," Omar tells him.
"Yeah," he says. "But it's broken, so I don't feel guilty doing this."
Omar asks, "Doing wha..."
Alvie takes the blackberry jelly and uses the jar to break out the rest of the window.
"Let's go." Alvie says and goes in feet first.
"Hey be careful," Alvie warns. "There's like a six-foot drop."
Omar sends Kesar in, his tail swaying as he leaps down. Omar takes a deep breath and pushes himself forward. His eyes shut as he begins falling, and something pinches his arm. His feet hit first, but he immediately buckles over, having to catch himself with his hands. That's when he sees the blood. It gushes out of his arm and pools on the ground. Alvie looks at his arm in horror. Tears start to build in Omar's eyes, but he bites them back, making pained noises instead.
He cries, "Alvie help."
I ... I don't know what to do," Alvie wails.
Omar starts fiddling with his tie until it it loosens, and he takes it and tries to wrap it around his arm. He looks to Alvie and pleads, "Can you please tie it?"
Alvie nods, his face white, and begins to tie the colorful piece of fabric around the cut. The light blues in the tie turn a deep red. Omar thanks Alvie. Omar's in shock; he's never gotten hurt on a quest before. Alvie's always told him he'd never get hurt on a quest.
"Okay. I'm good," he says, wiping away tears.
He uses his unharmed arm to hold the other by the wrist. Kesar stays close to Omar's side. They walk through what they assume to be the basement. Even in the dim light, Kesar sparkles. He almost seems to be illuminating the pathway. They scour every inch of the basement. No monsters. No mom. They make there way to the main floor, and everything seems the same as every other time Omar's seen it, only no one is here, and the lights are out. Omar looks up at the giant sign hanging above the machinery. Last time he saw it, it read "98 Days Since Last Accident." It now reads only 2.
"There are no monsters here, Alvie," Omar says with a sigh.
"Of course the are," Alvie insists.
"Where are they, then?" Omar asks, impatiently.
Alvie sighs, "The one was guarding the factory. They have to be here." He sounds certain in his words. "Let's check her office."
So they do. But nothing is there. Nothing at all. Omar looks around to see her sweater on her chair, her pens on her desk right next to a coffee cup. Wait, Omar thinks to himself. His mother would never leave a dirty dish. She couldn't stand dirty dishes. She alway yelled at Omar's dad for leaving them around saying, "I'd die before I leave a dirty dish." So Omar can't wrap his head around why half a mug of rotten coffee is sitting on her desk. He's about to say something when a man's voice bellows, "Omar, what are you doing here?"
Omar turns to see Bernie, one of his mom's longtime co-workers. Bernie is a kind man with a fading hairline, gangly arms connected to slouched shoulders, a crooked smile, and an overall friendly demeanor. He offers Omar a Dum Dum everytime he sees him.
He walks towards Omar, a concerned expression on his face.
"I'm looking for my mom," Omar tells him. "She was taken by monsters."
"Oh, Omar. You're mom ... she died," Bernie says, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.
Omar shakes his head, "No, you're lying."
"I'm afraid not," Bernie tells him, his voice soft. "Nobody's had the heart to clean out her office."
He looks down at Omar, "Oh my, look at your arm!"
He grabs Omar's arm and unwraps the colorful tie, revealing a deep gash still dripping with blood. Omar grabs the tie from him. It smells coppery and is damp, staining his hands.
"Oh god, there's bits of glass in their," Bernie groans. "I'm calling your father and coming back with a first-aid kit."
He walks out of the room, and Omar turns to Alvie.
"You lied to me," he says.
"What are talking about? I did no such thing. Now, let's get out of here before he gets back," Alvie tells Omar, heading for the door.
"No!" Omar shouts.
"Shh" Alvie orders him. "Calm down."
"No!" Omar screams. "You said I wouldn't get hurt!"
Alvie rolls his eyes. "It's not my fault the glass cut you."
"You said my mom was alive!" Omar spits at Alvie, his eyes crazy now.
"Omar, we've been over this," Alvie yells back. "The adults don't understand."
"No you lied. You lied about EVERYTHING!" Omar screeches the last word. "Maybe you don't understand! My mom is dead, and there's nothing we can do about it!"
Omar's face is red with anger and frustration. "I left my father and everyone worried, I released those animals, because you lied to me."
"But, Omar," Alvie protests.
"But nothing, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT."
"Omar, We have to go." Alvie walks over to him and puts his adventurer hands on Omar's shoulders. But Omar doesn't feel weight fall on them. He feels nothing.
"No! You have to go!" Omar yells, trying to push Alvie back. His arms go straight through his chest, pieces of Alvie floating away from Omars hands like smoke. They piece back together when he pulls his hands away.
"What do you mean?" Alvie cries.
Omar dreads his next words, but he has to say them. "I want you gone!"
Omar picks up a stapler and whips it at Alvie. It passes right through him.
"No, no. You don't mean that," Alvie seems to be begging.
Omar screams as he hurls more items at him, and more of Alvie evaporates into thin air.
"Please? Omar, no."
Omar's hand travels to the coffee mug. He picks it up and screams, "GOODBYE!"
He flings the mug right at Alvies head ...
And he's gone.
He's gone without a sign that he was ever there. All Omar sees is coffee running down the wall toward the shards of purple mug below it.
Bernie comes into the office carrying a red box.
"What was all that noise?" he asks, looking around.
"Uh, nothing." Omar looks to the ground.
Bernie sees the mess of broken things scattered across the floor, but he doesn't say anything about it. Instead he fixes Omar's cut. "That oughta make a pretty cool scar, huh?" he says and walks out of the room.
Omar stares down at his fresh bandages. He gets the purple sweater off of his mom's chair and wraps it around himself. Kesar comes right up to him, gazing into his eyes. Omar watches as his honey-colored mane flies away like dandelion seeds in a September wind. The kingly Kesar shrinks and shrinks until he isn't regal at all. His coat isn't gold, and it doesn't sparkle. He's just a dumb, old house cat with ginger fur. A dumb, old house cat who will only sparkle again if you put glitter on him.
Cheap, dumb, old glitter.
Omar crawls under his mom's now ex desk and curls up with her sweater and the dumb cat. He begins to shake like he's sobbing, but he's not. His eyes are completely dry, yet he shakes. He shakes and rattles until he eventually dozes off.
"Omar. Omar," a familiar voice speaks softly.
Omar awakens to see his dad kneeling over him. His dad picks him up and sets him on the desk. He sits next to his son, and Omar leans into his father's side.
"Well you had quite the day," his father says.
Omar just nods in response.
"I had everybody at calling hours looking for you. You, as I've been told, have run away, broke into the animal shelter, uncaged a bunch of animals, apparently stole a cat, knocked down a tree you and your mom helped plant earlier this year in the park, and destroyed your mother's office. Which Bernie cleaned up, by the way."
Omar confesses, "I also broke a window."
"That's great," his dad sighs.
"Are you mad?" Omar asks.
"No," his dad says. "I have to blame myself, in some ways. If I actually took the time to talk to you, this wouldn't have happened. It's just you and me now, bud." He chokes on his words.
"And Kesar," Omar adds.
"Who?" his dad asks.
"The cat," Omar replies.
"Yup. Just you, me and Kesar," his dad chuckles. "Oh, and Alvie."
"No. Alvie's gone," Omar says, his voice dry.
"Oh," his dad stands up and says, "well, let's get you home."
"No, I wanna go to the funeral home," Omar states.
"Omar, it's late, you're covered in blood," his father explains. "We'll go in the morning."
"Please, Dad?" Omar begs.
"Alright." he concedes.
They get in the car. His dad lets Omar sit in front, but he has to break out the booster seat as a compromise. Kesar gets the back seat. His dad turns on the radio. Omar looks out the window, and even though it's night, Omar can feel how much duller the colors seem to be. He watches his whole day go by outside of their little blue car. He can faintly see the tree, toppled over in the park. They drive on past the street corner with the building full of bird people. Above the doors he had walked through only a few hours ago is a lit-up sign. It reads, "Valentine Theatre presents Swan Lake." Omar watches the lit-up sign get smaller and smaller. They pull past the animal shelter.
"We're gonna have to apply for adoption for Kesar," Omar's dad says. "We may not get to keep him because you technically stole him."
"Technically, he followed me," Omar responds.
They pull into the funeral home parking lot. The night custodian lets them in. The smell of flowers slaps his senses as walks into the room with the glossy black box at the opposite end of it. He walks toward it hesitantly, his father staying by the door. He can see his reflection beginning to show in the shiny object. He reaches out his olive-skinned hand, and nothing stops him from feeling how cool and smooth the box is. The bottom of the box has a wide platform. He steps onto that. He looks down into the box and sees his mother. Omar is as sure of that as he's ever been of anything. Her slender nose, long, black hair, olive skin, the mole above the left corner of her mouth, but her eyes are closed, so he can't see how dark they are. Omar grabs her hand and almost pulls away at how cold it is. He still holds her hand tight, admiring how hers is larger, more slender, and slightly darker than his. He finally lets the tears roll out of his eyes. One falls on her dress, making a dark blue spot among the light blue.
He thinks back to the coffee mug shattering against the wall and whispers, "Goodbye."