Dusk Harbor 1999

Friends

Fae stood at the threshold of her four-year-old son Jasper's room. Hand against the door frame, foot tapping impatiently. This was the third time he had called her back into his room. She had to head out to work. Her boss at the florist shop recently promoted her to assistant manager. She couldn't risk being late. What a lovely way to spend her Friday evening.

"Momma, I want a bedtime story!" He mumbled as he rubbed his eyes.

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

"I already told you two stories! You need to go to sleep," she stated firmly.

He looked to her with his pleading blue eyes. She walked over to him, brushed a lock of his soft brown hair out of his eye, and sat down on the bed beside him.

"Once upon a time. There was a little boy named---Casper, he didn't want to go to bed. But he knew that his mommy had to go out and work, so he closed his eyes and went to sleep. And his mommy was very proud of him."

Jasper nodded slowly, and suddenly hugged her. Grabbed onto her hand and wouldn't let it go. His little fingernails traced along her wrist. She could feel his warm breath against her skin. She adored him with every part of her soul. He was half of her heart.

"I don't want you to go. I don't like Mark, he smells weird," he whimpered.

Her friend Mark had been babysitting for her for half of Jasper's life. She paid him what she could because he was a college dropout turned street performer. He was good, but not good enough to make a real living at it. The babysitting offered him a supplement to his income.

From the other room, she heard Mark shout something in German.

"Mark is a little crazy, ok a lot crazy, but he's always there for us. So be good ok?"

Jasper rubbed his face against her arm and curled into her. His nose touched her wrist. She let him rest there until she heard his breathing slow, and felt him relax. Gently, she slid him off her arm and rested his head on the pillow, and draped the blue blanket over him. He nestled into the bed, and she stood up slowly to be sure she wouldn't wake him up.

And she went for the doorway, glanced at her beautiful boy once more, shut the light off, and walked out into the tiny living room. Mark was on the tattered old couch with his arm stretched along the back of it, watching some old black and white German film.

"Thanks for doing this, Mark. There's potato salad in the fridge if you want it," she said as she took her brown suede purse from the couch.

"Anytime, and also I vould never eat potato salad. That is for peasants," he joked.

"You're about as poor as a peasant," she retorted cooly.

With a sigh, she strung the purse over her shoulder.

"Ohh. Right," he bowed his head in defeat, "vell, have fun at vork."

"Must you do the accent at home too?"

She put her hair up in a ponytail and adjusted the sleeves of her jacket.

"It's called staying in character!"

She went for the door, and once she was out in the hallway she locked it behind her. She put her hip to the door for a moment, wondering if she would ever earn enough money to give her son a proper life. Not in an apartment with graffiti on the walls, and airplanes roaring overhead, but a nice little house on a farm with horses and goats, and other kids to play with. She loved horses, as a child she always dreamed of owning one, but life just didn't allow for it.

Someday, someday we'll have that.

****

It was a Saturday evening. Jake was gliding through a jet stream, he barely had to flap his wings at all and made travel comfortable and quick. He was surprised that the leader had called everyone for a meeting. He was a little disappointed as well, because he'd been looking forward to watching a movie at home, all cuddled up with his family on the couch. Though he wouldn't complain, it was part of the job and he was glad to do it. He wanted to show the leader that he supported her, in whatever way he could.