The Midas Touch

“Bryson eat your breakfast.”

Morning words from my mother reminding me, I don’t want cereal. The milk tornado that I’m making with my spoon seems more appealing.

“Cornflakes again, can we have pancakes?” I ask remembering the smell of blueberries before my dad died.

“Yes Bryson, cornflakes again.” My mother speaks with her back towards me. I can feel the eyes in the back of her head demanding me to eat my breakfast. I sadly try to take a spoonful intentionally missing my mouth.

“I’m working late this week, but I promise next weekend I’ll make pancakes,” she turns and looks into my eyes reinforcing her promise. I grab my bookbag dreading the walk to school.

“Don’t forget,”

“I know mom, keep my mask on,” I cut her off knowing her predictable patterns. “The gym is back open. Can I go to basketball practice today”?

“I have to pay rent this week, maybe next week.” She looks at me with disappointment and responsibility in her voice. I walk out the door tired of hearing the word no. It has become the new normal since my dad died. I think I’ll take the long way to school today. I don’t feel like explaining to my friends why I can’t go to basketball practice this week. Tears fill my eyes thinking back to the days my dad sat in the bleachers cheering me on, even when I missed the easy shots.

Why did my dad have to die? I ask myself, picking up a rock in anger. I throw it with all my might, not caring where it lands. Falling boxes from the top of the dumpster let me know I didn’t cause too much damage. Maybe I should have played baseball. I pick up another rock picturing myself as the starting pitcher for the New York Yankees.

Bryson is preparing for his signature fastball pitch. All they need is one out to win. Can he do it? And he’s out! The Yankees win! This crowd is going wild!

I throw the second rock trying to knock the remaining boxes off the trash can. I hit one.

“Ouch!”

Did someone say something? I look around for a face to match the voice I just heard. My heart drops into my stomach. I don’t see anything.

“That’s what I get for trying to find a safe place to sleep. Go to Earth they said, it's great they said. Yeah, if you want rocks for pillows!”

My heart starts to beat out my chest. The voice I’m hearing is coming from the box.

“Okay guys, stop playing!” I scream knowing my friends are playing a joke on me. They do that a lot when I want to walk the long way to school by myself. I walk closer to the box knowing I’m about to see a microphone taped to the inside.

Thump, thump, thump!

I stop, my feet are frozen to the ground. My eyes mesmerized watching the box jump off the dumpster without help. Four jumps place the box right by my foot. I have an explanation for the voice, but how can I rationalize a box jumping off the dumpster by itself? My eyes scared to blink; my feet scared to move.

I see something glowing inside. I know my friends are behind this. Let’s see whose phone is inside here. I pick the box up rubbing the dirt off so I can open it. The box opens quickly levitating in the air by itself. A tornado of green wind releases growing taller and taller. My eyes look up as far as my neck allows. I’m frozen in time by fear. What is this?

“Finally, I can stretch my arms.” Arms grow from the wind stretching like an athlete ready to work out. “Who summons the great Midas?”

Am I seeing a genie in a box?

“Was it you little Earth boy?”

I can’t speak. I’m in shock. Is he wearing a big genie face mask? Midas looks down on me with his arms folded, waiting on my response. He snaps his finger creating a ruler pointing it at my nose.

“One second Earth boy, I need to make sure we’re six feet apart, five and six, perfect.”

Midas bends down towards me carefully staying six feet away.

“Now what do you want?”

I finally build enough courage to speak.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in a lamp?” I ask remembering all the stories I knew.

Yeah, that’s a little different right? This pandemic has affected everything. We had to downsize. Besides your world doesn't do lamps, boxes are how this world survives. Online ordering is what this world knows best. So, we had to adjust. I mean it’s a lot to get used to, but hey here I am, ready to grant you whatever you desire. But remember use your words wisely.”

“I get three wishes, right?” I ask excitedly.

“Well, here is the deal. You look like you’re well under the age of eighteen. What are you, about four or five?” Midas scans me, lifting me up and down. I laugh as I use to when my dad was alive.

“I’m eight years old, but I’ll be nine in eighty-seven days.”

“Still far from eighteen. Let me check the genie Handbook of Wishes.”

Midas snaps his fingers. Instantly glasses appear on his face and a document in his hands.

“Blah, blah, blah, just as I thought. Anyone under the age of eighteen is granted one age-appropriate wish without the consent of a parent, legal guardian, or fairy. I don’t suppose you have a fairy in your pocket.

“No”

“In your sock drawer at home?”

“No”

"Well Earth boy, your one wish is my command.”

“That’s not fair,” I speak knowing that three wishes can change my life.

“Don’t blame me. I can give you the customer service number to the Wish Leadership Association. They don’t want us passing out wishes irresponsibility. Something about destiny and free will. So, what will it be Earth boy? I know, make the school disappear. No, I can’t do that, someone might realize the kids are gone. How about a trip to outer space? Have you had your space travel shots? No, I can’t do that, no one from Earth can cross space borders. Time travel does not agree with your stomach. How about a dog from Pluto?” Midas snaps his fingers; a tiny blue puppy appears at my feet.

I bend down to pick the puppy up. He disappears before my hands make contact, reappearing in front of the dumpster. This tiny puppy about the size of my shoe opens his mouth and swallows the dumpster with ease.

“Hey what did I tell you about eating trash? Down boy, down.” Midas snaps his fingers once more. The puppy disappears. “I don’t think the puppy is a good idea. There is no way you can feed him.”

“I know what I want.” I look Midas in the eyes ready for my wish to be granted.

“Okay kid what will it be? Remember to use your words wisely or to the best of your eight-year-old ability.

“I wish for eight hundred and forty-four dollars,” I said strongly.

“Huh, eight hundred and forty-four dollars. Is that what you said? All this mighty power you see in front of you and that’s what you want?” Midas speaks holding his frame like superman.

“Yes, I want to help my mom pay rent so I can go back to basketball practice.”

“You want to help your mom? I told you to use your words carefully. Section twenty-three of the Wish handbook states, if any minor uses a wish to benefit a parent or guardian forfeits their wish to the desires of the parent. All parents wish for their children to be happy. So, I give to you this.” Midas hands me a little black book.

“Thank you for allowing me to fulfill your wish. Please rate your wish experience by contacting the Wish Association. Have a great rest of your life, Goodbye.” Instantly Midas goes back into the box.

“Wait, come back I want my wish. I don’t want some old crappy black book.” I scream waiting for Midas to reappear. I toss the book in my bookbag realizing that I’m late for school. No one is going to believe that I met a genie. Not to mention I didn’t get a wish.

I toss my book bag on the couch still upset that Midas left the way he did.

“How was school?” My mother asks feeling bad that she can’t afford to send me to basketball practice. “Did anything exciting happen today?”

“No, not really. I just found an old little black book on my way to school this morning.”

“Well let me see it.” My mother asks. I pull the black book out and give it to her.

“Where did you say you found this?” She speaks without taking her eyes off the book.

“Out by the dumpster out back,” I respond wondering why my mother has tears in her eyes.

“This is your fathers’ little black book. I’ve been looking for it for the past six months.” Tears flow from my mother’s eyes.

“He had this book since he was about your age. He told me his imaginary friend Midas gave it to him at a time when he really needed a friend. Your father said this book took him to magical worlds beyond time and space. All he had to do is write in it. He kept your birth certificate in here.”

My mother opens the book looking for my birth certificate. Her tears flow harder as she unfolds the papers hiding inside the book. My birth certificate along with a bank statement. A rainy-day account in my name with twenty-thousand dollars in it. I hug my mom crying with her.

“How about blueberry pancakes for dinner?” She walks to the kitchen wiping her tears.

I open the book fumbling through the pages my father wrote on, realizing that there are still blank pages left. Ink starts to appear on the paper.

To Bryson, may all your wishes come true- Midas.