Mother's Address

“What’s in the box?” Sally asks peering over the countertop that is only a few inches shorter than her. She hops from tiptoe to tiptoe trying to get a better view of the brown paper package placed enticingly just out of reach.

“Dunno,” replies Stewart, “it’s got a note that says not to open it.” Stewart, Sally’s older brother, stands a head and a half taller. He found the box on the front stoop. He’s the one who put it on the counter.

“Auth-, authoriz-. Rec-, required?” Sally tries to read aloud the red block-letters stamped onto the parcel. “What does that mean?”

“It means don’t open it,” Stewart snaps.

“Don’t be mean!” Sally’s cheeks flush.

“I ain’t trying to be mean. I just don’t want to get in trouble. Mother will be damn-”

“No cursing,” calls Nick, the middle brother, from the bathroom. His voice is amplified and deepened by the intervening door. He sounds powerful.

Stewart sighs. “Mother will be much meaner if we break the rules. It’s probably for her. Though I don’t know why it doesn’t have her name on it,” Stewart adds under his breath.

“It’s probably so important that she knows what’s in it already. No one but her is author-… they’ll let her open it, is what I mean.”

“So, what’s inside?” booms Nick’s omnipotent voice.

“What are you doing in there?” replies Stewart. “You’re taking a da-, a very long time.”

“Just working some stuff out. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Mother’s been gone a good while. No one’s watching the candy cupboard. I may have… indulged.”

“Gross,” giggles Sally. Her dollish curls bounce in time to her laughter. “Wait, we have a candy cupboard?”

“Had a candy cupboard!” Nick’s laughter join Sally’s.

“I bet you all think this is so funny.” Stewart stamps his foot, commanding attention. “Mother put me in charge, and I will not let this household fall apart on my watch.”

“She’ll see all the candy’s gone,” says Nick.

“Shut it, you! New rule: you can’t speak until you’re off the toilet.”

“Who says I’m on the toilet? And how are you gonna stop me?”

Stewart’s eyes widen with rage. He huffs over to the bathroom door and torques the knob. “You’re damn lucky it’s locked!”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you through all the cursing!”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you with all that shit in your mouth,” Stewart snaps back. “Ignore him, Sally, he’s not in the mood to be useful. Mother would not approve.”

“Well, what’re we gonna do then?” Sally cannot keep her eyes off the package for more than a minute. Her gaze bounces, like her hair, between her brother and the box.

“We’re gonna wait for Mother.”

“But it’s been…” Sally counts on her fingers then proudly displays her summation to Stewart, “three sleeps since she came home. Where is she? I miss her.”

“Probably doing something important. I’m guessing it has something to do with our mystery package.”

“Aren’t you curious?” asks the bathroom door. “She’s never gone this long, and we get our first mail. Seems suspicious.”

“For the record, I’m only allowing you to speak because you’re making sense. Keep it up and I might let you out,” replies Stewart.

“You haven’t trapped me. I’m in here on my own free will.”

“That’s what I want you to think!”

“Nicky, Stew, please, I want to know what’s in the box.”

“I already told you we ain’t opening it.”

“But can we at least guess? We can make a game of it to help pass the time. I bet it’s something to do with Mother’s work.”

“I bet it’s more candy,” says Nick.

“Or gifts for us. I would very much like a new doll.”

“Or a puppy!”

“A puppy?” Sally rubs her tiny chin. “Oh! Yes, that’s got to be it! A new friend!”

“Nah to all of the above,” says Stewart. “This one is different. Something crazy.”

“Like a bomb?” Nick asks.

“Don’t joke about that!” Sally’s face again reddens to the color of strawberries. “No, it’s something nice. I think it’s love.”

“You can’t put love in a box.”

“Yea, don’t be silly.”

“Well, Stew, what do you think it is?”

“I think it’s something life-changing. Maybe even a quest, some kind of puzzle to solve.”

“Hold up,” says the bathroom, “she can’t put love in a box, but you’re allowed to put life’s purpose in it? Doesn’t seem fair.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Sounded pretty damn close!”

“I woulda said it straight if that’s what I meant.”

“Stop fighting!” Sally raises her voice. She tries to vault herself onto the counter. After a few practice jumps, she nearly finds a seat on the granite but slides off harmlessly. “We gotta just open it. Figure it out once and for all.”

“But Mother said-”

“Mother didn’t say anything,” Nick interrupts. “She didn’t even tell us she was leaving. You’re the one who found the box and started making up rules.”

“But it’s for ‘authorized’ people only.”

“Oh, is that so? I think you’re bluffing: Sally can’t read, and I haven’t seen it. It could say anything.”

“Well, if you’d just come out and read for yourself… feels like you’ve been in there since Mother left,” Stewart grumbles.

“I’m working on it, okay? Mother really shouldn’t leave us alone. We don’t get along well.”

“But I like you two very much.” Sally’s voice is hoarse and breathy from all the bouncing.

“That’s not what he meant,” says Stewart. “He means we’re not good at caring for ourselves. I disagree. I think I’ve—we’ve—done a da-, a very good job.”

“Thanks to our fearless leader,” scoffs Nick.

“If you took my advice, you wouldn’t be stuck on the toilet!”

“Bug off!”

“Yippee!” Sally screams. Stewart turns to see Sally dancing on the countertop. She has the package in her chubby hands, waving it back and forth in a clumsy waltz.

“Stewart, you have to stop her…” All mirth and ichor have abandoned Nick’s tone. His words are flat, matter-of-fact. Stewart feels it too.

“I’m trying… Sally, please put that down. Hey! Stop shaking it, we don’t know what’s inside.”

“Don’t be such a worry head! It’s empty!” says Sally, continuing to spin on the smooth granite.

“Sally, it just feels empty. Whatever is inside must be very delicate.”

“No, Stew, it’s really empty. See?” She shakes the box again. It makes no noise aside from the swishing of air. “See?” Sally tosses the package toward the ceiling. Stewart gasps. A moment later, Nick instinctively echoes his brother’s dread.

Sally catches the box, wearing a grin of supreme satisfaction. “You didn’t believe me-”

“Sally…”

“Look here, it’s empty!” Without a moment’s consideration, she hurls the box to the floor. It lands with a crinkling thud. One corner is indented, nearly flattened. Sally and Stewart stare. “Uh oh,” she whispers.

The toilet flushes, breaking the silence. Muffled splashes from the sink. The bathroom door creaks open.

Three siblings circle around the box as though it were a dead animal on the sidewalk. For a moment, no one speaks, then Nick elbows Stewart in the side. He jumps slightly, aroused from his contemplation.

“Hey, what was that for?”

“Aren’t you gonna say something?”

“What is there to say? Mother’s gonna kill us.”

“It might not be broken,” suggests Sally.

Nick shrugs. “Since we’re screwed either way, should we just open it? You know, to make sure it’s okay. We might only be half-dead.”

“C’mon Stew, let’s see it.”

“I don’t know… listen, you guys can open it. I’ll say it’s my fault, but I really don’t need to see what’s inside.” He turns to face away from his brother and sister, away from the box.

“Suit yourself,” says Nick. “Here Sally, help me pull off this sticky stuff.”

“The tape? Okay, this is so exciting!”

Stewart listens as the others tear the package open. Some plastic rustles.

Nick is silent, but Sally chokes out a “Whoa-”

The front door opens. Mother has returned. Stewart is the first to see her glide in on her eight wispy legs. He takes a step forward.
 “Mother, it was an accident.”

From eight feet off the ground, Mother’s expressionless eyes regard the scene in the kitchen.

“Mother, please, we’ll be better next time,” begs Stewart. Sally and Nick plead as well.

Without a word, Mother walks above the children, centering her oblong torso over the parcel wreckage. Her single, snake-like arm uncoils from her underside. Delicately, it picks apart the dense bubble wrap and removes the automaton control slate from the box.

“Please-”

She ignores her “children.” Pressing a button, Mother ends the experiment.

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