Excavate

Certainties and Chances

For the remainder of that day, Sharon, to her own deep shame, did not acknowledge Riley's presence in the house. When Brad returned with the kids, he noticed the distress etched in every crease in her tense face and asked her what happened. She couldn't respond. 

Sharon couldn't recount the breakfast, the shower, Riley's sobbing and her comfort, and the pictures. She didn't want to think about his face when he told her that she didn't love him anymore. 

It was too hard to deal with, so she didn't. 

She told Brad that they would talk about it later, and then turned to her children and asked what they wanted for lunch.

She put on the mask of being a good mother as she made pizza rolls for Audrey and Spaghettios for Matt and Andy. Typically, she wouldn't submit to making different lunches for the kids, making them decide between each other what they wanted, but she didn't have the heart to say no to them today. Not when Riley's sad, resigned eyes appeared every time she blinked.

So for the rest of the day, she put her everything into being the best mother she could to Audrey, Matt, and Andy. A shopping trip to the mall so Matt and Audrey could get some new clothes (while decidedly evading her earlier thoughts of Riley needing his own clothing). Early dinner at a restaurant as a family with dessert for everyone, even Andy who devoured his ice cream brownie with gusto.

And when they came home, exhausted and faces sore from smiling, it was well after dark. As Brad offered to go get Andy ready for his bath to get the sticky ice cream mess cleaned up, Matt and Audrey fought over what movie to watch.

Sharon snuck away from their disagreement, tiptoeing up the stairs just far enough so she could see the guest bedroom. The door was closed, just as it had been when they left. And there was no evidence that Riley left his bedroom at all. 

Sharon wasn't surprised, but her mind wasn't put at ease either. To see how Riley was doing, she would have to take initiative to check on him. And selfishly, she didn't want him to know that she was checking in, so she didn't. She turned around to go back to movie night with her son and daughter, putting Riley at the back of her mind.

He only existed as a ghost, condemned to haunt the confines of the bedroom which he inhabited. As long as that bedroom door stayed closed, she was afforded the privilege of not acknowledging him.

_____

Riley drowsily watched the neon green numbers on the alarm clock change for the umpteenth time, blinking, not really comprehending what time it actually was. The sky had gone dark, he knew that much. 

And for much of the day, the house was entirely silent. No disturbances could be heard outside of his reclusive hiding space. Vaguely, he recalled hearing the garage earlier in the afternoon, but he hadn't put too much thought toward it at the time.

Did the family leave him alone again? Probably. Did he actually care? No, he was too tired for that.

Distantly, Riley wondered if he was the driving force behind them leaving. Were they too disturbed by his depressed, lurking presence behind the closed door that they had to go somewhere else to enjoy themselves? The thought seemed outlandish, unlikely, but the lines between reality and surreality had begun blurring hours before. Maybe they'd blurred when he was crying in the shower, or maybe it went all the way back to when his mom offered him breakfast.

Whether he was the cause or not, they were gone, and he was alone. This time, he didn't even entertain the thought of leaving the guest bedroom. 

Hunger and thirst, and even the urge to pee only played faintly in his head, like a radio station with poor reception where you could barely hear the broken tune behind the white noise.