HENRY’S SUNDAY

In the morning, the sun made no attempts of shyness. Daylight poured in through Henry’s wide window, caring not about being invited. He smiled at the thought that today would be a great time to draw since his mother would not even have the chance to interrupt. Yesterday, she said she would be running errands with his father, so he understood that his older brother must have been somewhere else inside the house to look after him in the meantime. He thought his friends might have been in their own homes, too, since their dogs could be heard being quite rambunctious outside in the yard. Sometimes, Henry wished he had a sibling much closer to his age; his brother of eighteen did not like to spend so much time with him anymore, so instead he wished for a dog and was very vocal about it to his mother for quite a while. “It isn’t time yet,” she would tell him, “but as soon as you are old enough, I will get you a pet as we did with Nathan. A good pet.”

The sun shone brightly on Henry’s face. It was friendly so he decided to play along, finally sitting up on his bed with the biggest smile. He knew he was getting taller because his feet can almost touch the floor now but a quarter inch more would definitely do it! Walking then to the long white desk stationed right in front of the window where sun rays flourished most, Henry swiftly reached for a sheet of paper from a bookshelf close by, and placed it where all of his blank sheets of paper go-- the very surface of his drawing desk. Once comfortable in his seat he fetched himself a sharpened pencil and began to draw. He swung his legs gently back and forth, warming up by sketching large shapes of a square, an oval, and finally a circle. He would allow the entire length of his arm to hover over the paper, maybe even past its edges as he made confident, smooth curves where he managed to reach.

Henry was not like other young boys his age. More often than not, his peers would rather be outdoors and chase some toy around or be the ones being chased by a dog some way or another. It was actually quite lucky that his closest friends were only several houses down so that when it rained, Henry would at least able to have them accompany him indoors. The only trouble then would be his friends becoming plastered to the television. Henry thought it silly since they had a terrible habit of watching the same episodes over and over… and over once more. To make sure they don’t miss an episode! Henry often justified. Even so, he noticed that they were never quite interested in drawing as much as he. There were times here and there, however, when Henry’s friends might have joined him for a moment or two, just to discover a technique or three.

Henry enjoyed taking his time no matter how simple or complex he made his sketches. His neighbor’s dog barked excitedly outdoors, running back and forth in their yard, but hours wore on as Henry managed to take his time on each new picture he created. The day only seemed to get brighter as he lost himself entirely in vibrant daydreams of villains and superheroes, darkness against light, and some happy ending to mark the genius of a child’s imaginings.

First, he liked to draw the face, the body, and then the legs-- but Henry always made special effort to place more details on the face because it is where Henry felt it mattered most when speaking to his mother. He must have made at least ten separate drawings as the sun moved across his desk all the way to noon, when he finally started to wonder where his parents were; they should have been home by now. The windowpane then withstood a harsh and generous gust of wind, making Henry think that perhaps the dogs have already gone inside; why, it was so quiet out there now-- but that was always the peaceful place Henry’s mind brought him to each time he began to draw.

Looking around his room once as he swung himself away from his desk, Henry decided to search for himself, once and for all, and see where any of them were. No one seemed to mind if he had taken this long to wake from his sleep. He left his room and made his way down the stairs, raising his ear a bit into the air as if to hear better.

At the bottom of the stairs he dared not one step further into the living room where he saw his brother’s back was to him as he faced the television. Henry wanted to say something, of course, but all the words seemed caught in his throat. He managed to croak, “Where is mommy and daddy?” More so, he hoped that his brother heard him if at all.

“They’re out,” Nathan replied . “You know that.”

“Shopping?” Henry asked and looked to the windows where the wind beat the curtains away from the slight opening, violently forcing its way in.

His brother turned up the volume on the remote, Nathan’s usual indication that he has disconnected himself from any form of communication. Henry was used to it, however, and went on to the front door, a bit annoyed by the howl of the wind indoors, and easily reached for all the locks and freed the door from its metal bars-- all on his tiptoes-- but was thrust backwards as soon as he pulled opened the door, the wind bringing with it the swift attack of dead leaves. Mustering all his might to force himself back on his feet, Henry found himself overwhelmed by the afternoon sun's glare, placing his arm over his eyes, uncertain for a moment of what to do. To his relief, a tall shadow seemed to draw over him.

“Hey, there, kiddo,” his father said to him in a slightly nasal chuckle, ruffling Henry’s hair. “What’s cookin’?”

Forcing at least one eye open, Henry watched his father’s leg move straight over him with a single grocery bag in hand. Behind him, he could clearly see the silhouette of what any child with a dream could see-- a dog leash!

“Mommy!” he yelled instantly, running to her as quickly as he could. His body was shaking with excitement, bouncing up and down in his mother’s way. “Mommy, is that for a pet dog?” His voice was so shrill, he might have seen his mother slightly cringe.

“It isn’t for anyone,” she said in a single tone, covering his small frame underneath her towering shade. Clutching at the dog leash in her hand, Henry’s mother seemed to clench her fingers tighter around it and when he caught a glimpse of the grassy ground next to him, he saw the limp shadow of the leash around his own neck, his gaze mesmerized as he watched his mother’s grasp become tighter and tighter, and tigh--

“Get inside the house now,” she said sternly, kicking the car door close behind her with irregular might. Without wasting a moment more, Henry turned right around and ran back into the house feeling like a wilted flower. As he looked up, the sky decided to turn itself dark just to match his mother’s mood, the white clouds among the blue canvas was now gone, the sky now painted in gray.

The door finally was closed and kept outside all the dead things, and dead leaves, and terrible wind. The whirlwinds did not deafen his ears any longer for the windows have now been shut, and the curtains from before now fully kept all daylight outdoors. In the corner of his eye, Henry no longer saw Nathan nor felt his presence anywhere near. The television, however, remained obnoxiously loud inside the living room. Maybe Nathan went to use the bathroom, is what Henry concluded but by the time he turned around to acknowledge this, the rest of the house was quiet once more only this time, it was dimmer.

Henry’s mood seemed to have been affected by the nuance of his day so far. He almost wished he never left his room in the first place until he remembered that he did not even have any breakfast yet! Dashing into the kitchen and sliding across the floor, he came to a full stop in front of the refrigerator and hastily fished out a small pastry, encased with yellow wrapping. He held this close to his chest and ran back away with it to the hall and soon disappeared into the dark. Because no one seemed to want to spend any time at all with Henry, he sighed gratefully for the comfort of his room where he can continue to suspend his ideas into graphite and bright-vivid display. He turned toward the stairs but thought for a moment that he might have heard someone at the opposite end of the hall-- a small scratch? He waited to sense for further motion but Henry continued up the stairs when he realized there was probably no one there at all.

Back in the safety of his room, Henry felt a bit exasperated from the underwhelming adventure outside his room in the first place. Walking over to his desk, he stood close to his window and peered down where he happened to see that one of his friends who lived next door was crying on his lawn, the very place where his dog roamed free. Again, the sky roared and flashed twice against the gray; rain was coming. Henry could not understand what his friend was saying to his mother; his face twisted terribly from the agony of some bad news. The stagnant air was disturbed by the crinkling of the yellow wrapper of the pastry Henry held in his hand. In one mouthful, the little treat was gone. It could never have passed for breakfast. When a double knock pierced through the silence of his room, Henry turned his sights quickly behind him but saw no one.

“Mommy?” Henry croaked again in an even smaller voice than before, a bit muffled by what was left of the pastry in his mouth. He blinked once then twice, but there were no other sounds and the knocking did not repeat. Allowing himself a moment to collect his wits, Henry cautiously walked over to the door and investigated its very narrow opening by shifting his sights sideways to it, almost losing his balance, all from trying to see better through.

Still, there was no one.

Finally pushing the door open, it revealed to Henry that someone might have been at the door after all, for now, he saw a shadow seemingly hurrying down the stairs.

“Mom! Nathan?” His voice trembled a little, for no child likes to wonder too much amidst the darkness that surrounds him. “Mom!” he cried, “I’m scared…”

No matter which he felt at that very moment, Henry nevertheless mustered the bravery to follow where the shadow had gone.

Very slowly and quietly did he tiptoe down the stairs, doing his best this time to remain more vigilant. In some small moments in between, he thought he heard something behind him, but the boy dared not look in fear of witnessing something he had no intention of witnessing. So he did his very best not to be bothered by them any longer-- but there it was again, right behind him but felt it so much closer. Henry could almost feel someone’s breath over his shoulder yet when fear forced him this time to turn, he faced only the darkness. He quickened up the pace and began to take larger strides and continued down the stairs. His heart took leaps at the sense of abandonment, something hot rising to his face. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, Henry managed an abrupt glimpse of a figure atop of it.

A stranger stood quietly still looking down to him. He must have been a man for the simple logic that Henry noticed that boys always wore pants. However, the very thing that actually pulled at this attention was the large circle he drew earlier on his desk, which now rested flat on this man’s face. Henry’s eyes bulged, sensing an urgency.

He ran into the living room and hoped to find a familiar face to turn to for comfort, but instead he felt a hand brush over his left shoulder almost similar in a way that a breeze caresses one's nape. Henry spun around so fast he almost dizzied himself but even so, he was not fast enough, as he saw that there was still no one around. Quickly landing his sights back to the living room in front of him, a tall figure now loomed tall and dark before him and when it looked down, it had the face of yet another shape that Henry drew-- the large square. There were two small circles for the eyes, the very part that seemed to reach into Henry’s mind with desperate hands.

His eyes widened with horrified disbelief as he blinked in shock. The figure made a deep chuckle and bent down to look straight into Henry’s eyes and bellowed in maniacal laughter. This perhaps shattered the young boy’s mind as Henry made a single, long cry-- the kind that calls out for the comfort his mother.

“Henry, whoa!” the figure said. “Henry, it’s only me!”

When the man pulled the square face off and over his head, it revealed Henry’s father, who looked entirely entertained and went on to pick him up and hold him dearly in his chest, where Henry cried freely into his shirt. His father laughed heartily, “It was your brother’s idea, I swear!” Hearing his cue, Nathan appeared from the staircase and tore the circle away from his face.

“He’s not kidding,” he said. “It was definitely my idea.”

Finally calming down, Henry’s cries slowed to hiccups and sniffles. It was much easier to laugh along now where he felt safe and unalone. He did not exactly appreciate the joke as much as they did, since he thought a joke is meant to be enjoyed by everyone, not only by some.

Outside all the commotion in the living room, Henry’s mother was glad she did not have to intervene at all. She was in the kitchen and busy cutting the meat.

Every time I have to fix a problem, she thought to herself, I always end up having to be the one to get rid of all that shouldn’t be seen. For a second, her knife became stuck on the bone and would not budge. “Like that stupid dog,” she muttered to herself in angry staccato. She then raised the knife along with the bone stuck to it, and struck straight down three times with so much force on the cutting board that the bone flew right off and ricocheted against a wall. She bent down to pick it up and pondered for a moment whether it should be thrown into the trash bin, but in the end, she thought simply to keep it in the cupboard where Henry couldn't reach.

FIN.