The Secrets my Mother Kept

Alexander fell into an uneasy sleep, Mr. Stuffings still clutched tightly to his chest. The dream came quickly, different from the ones that had led him to the attic.

He was at the beach - not the crowded tourist beaches his gran avoided, but somewhere else. Somewhere with dark sand and water so clear he could see straight to the bottom. The pearl from his mother's box hung suspended in the water before him, glowing with a light that seemed to come from within.

"Mom?" he called out, his voice strange in his ears. When he reached for the pearl, his hand looked different - almost shimmering in the underwater light. Behind him, something large moved in the deeper water, casting a shadow that felt more familiar than frightening.

Alexander jerked awake, sunlight streaming through his bedroom window. For a moment, he could still taste salt water on his lips, still feel the strange sensation of his hands being... different. But that was just the dream, wasn't it?

He reached for his nightstand drawer, fingers fumbling until they found the pearl. It sat cool in his palm, completely ordinary in the morning light. Nothing like the glowing orb from his dream. Mr. Stuffings had fallen out from under the blanket while Alex had been asleep.  

A knock on the door made him jump. 

“Alexander?” Gran's voice. “Birthday breakfast is ready! Also, your father will be here soon.” Her voice rang through the doorway. 

“Be right there, Grandma Brittney” Alexander called back. Alexander stared at the door, his mother's words from the notebook still wondered in his head. ‘Just like your father. Just like me.’ But was that true? Did Alexander's dad know anything about what made Alexander different? He'd never shown any sign, or acted weird, or secretive about any hidden talents that don't seem normal, like the notebook had led him to grow curious about. 

After his mom died his dad had thrown himself deeper and deeper into his work, leaving Alexander with his grandparents more and more. Maybe he'd been avoiding something too. 

Alexander slipped Mr. Stuffings under his pillow, no need to explain that discovery to anyone just yet. He changed out of his wrinkled pajamas into an outfit his grandmother had laid out for him along his dresser the night before: pressed khakis and a blue plaid shirt that she had said brought out his eyes. 

Alexander found himself moving closer to the mirror, searching for any sign of the strange shifting he’d read about in his mother’s notebook.

But they looked normal enough, the same dark brown they had always been.

Alexander slid into his usual seat, and the wooden chair scraped the old wooden floor as he pulled it from the dining room table. 

The pancakes stared back up at him as he sat down across the table from his grandfather who was neck deep in the week's Newspaper. 

"Sleep well?" Grandma Brittney asked, her back to him as she poured more batter onto the griddle. Such a normal question. Such a loaded question.

He thought about the dream he had had that morning. "Fine," Alexander managed, his voice smaller than he meant it to be. He poked at his pancake with his fork, watching the blueberry smile shift into something more crooked. Grandfather Marcus turned a page of his newspaper, the crinkling sound filling the kitchen.

"Just, Fine?" Grandpa Marcus asked through the Sports Section of the Newspaper, Alexander nodded again.

"It wasn't exceptionally great, but I really can't complain." Alex spoke directly to the pancakes, frowning as he pictured himself as a blueberry and the sticky syrup that he had just poured all over the soft stack of pancakes, as water he couldn't escape from.

"I see..." Grandpa Marcus said in a soft, but deep, raspy voice.