THE BOY WHO TALKED TO AIR #Wattys2018 (Wattys Longlist)

2. GIFT OR CURSE?

Mom was asleep in her bed when I entered the room, and didn't seem to notice, as I stumbled over her shoes. I extend my arms, trying to grab the bed for support, but quickly lost my balance and fell face first onto the burnt orange carpet. The loud thud of the impact must have surely woken her up, I thought—but it didn't. The scent of the carpet was a nauseating odor that Merriam-Webster would have found difficulty in defining. The rug was horribly tainted, and I was almost certain it had probably outlived its manufacturers and installers.

I picked myself up off the floor, and quietly laid down on my bed. I wasn't sure what the old woman in room 21 wanted to talk to me about, or what her story was, but I wanted no part of it either way. Who in their right mind keeps animal bones and spell books in their house anyway? Besides, if she really could tell the future and see things, then why is she staying at some half a star motel in the middle of Maine?

Don't get me wrong, I love reading about the unknown and things that go bump in the night, but it's still just fantasy to me. An escape from reality, when each passing day becomes more mind-numbing than the last. There is no truth to the stories that I read. I don't believe in monsters living in lagoons, or vampires living in castles halfway across the world, feeding off human blood from silver goblets. As clever as those stories are, they are still just that: stories to entertain the mind.

I moved my pillow a bit to get comfortable as the rickety bed squeaked below me.

"Oh, you're back," Mom said. "Did you get the ice?"

"I couldn't find the ice machine; I don't even think they have one," I said.

"You don't think, or you didn't ask?"

I stood there silent while I bit my lip nervously. Mom glowered at me suspiciously.

"Did you talk to the office manager like I asked you to, or not?"

"No, but I did bump into this weird old lady that kind of freaked me out. So... I guess I sort of forgot about the ice and just ran back here instead."

Mom shot me a look of disbelief. "My God, Justin. I ask you to do me one little favor and you can't even do that for me." She reached for her Reeboks lying on the floor and pushed her feet in them without untying the laces.

"Why do we need ice anyway?" I said. "It's not like we have food to keep cold."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, the air conditioner is broken and it's like 100 degrees in here," she said. "I thought it would be nice to fill up the tub with ice water, and take a bath."

"Maybe if you spent a little more money on a better motel, then we wouldn't have to take baths in buckets of ice. This whole half-assed decision to move to Maine, was your idea to begin with. News flash, Mom—I was perfectly happy with my life in Scranton—so why don't you get your own damn ice." I regretted the words as quickly as they came out of my careless mouth. Mom stood there with this staggered look on her face for a moment, before grabbing the ice bucket, and storming out the door. "Ugh, I hate this place!" I screamed.

I laid in bed for what seemed to be an eternity, replaying the day over and over in my head until I fell asleep.

I awoke to a bag of McDonalds being thrown onto my lap, and my mother's voice saying, "Wake up, you need to eat."

"What is it?" I asked, as I tried to get my thoughts together.

"Two cheeseburgers, no pickle, fries, and a Cola with light ice."

"Thanks, I'm starving," I said, as I discarded the wrapper around my cheeseburger and took a bite.

We both ate in an awkward silence for a few minutes, as I tried to figure out the best way to apologize for my selfish behavior earlier. I guess I better just say something, I thought.