Overnight

Mason had never been to a funeral before. Let alone one being held for two people. But how many six-year-olds had? A lot of people came to give their condolences. All of them dressed in black and with unfamiliar faces. Everyone greeted Mason with warm affection. His face twisted with uncertainty after each foreign hug. Was he supposed to be happy to see them too?

"You're getting so big!" They all exclaimed.

Mason repeated the phrase "thank you" until his tongue was sore. He desperately wished for the day to be over so that he could return home. As the hours droned by, Mason noticed there were also a lot of flowers at the funeral. This surprised Mason. His mother was a florist, and he knew that the flowers would die soon without water. Yet here they were hanging up for decoration. Did everyone know the flowers would die? Maybe that was the point. Mason tried to ponder the possibilities. He wanted to ask his mother, but he was afraid to upset her. She had been so sad lately. Mason knew why she was sad, but still, he wished for her to be happy. He hated seeing his mother cry. Though he supposed he would cry a lot too if his parents died.

Mason didn't get to see his grandparents often. They lived outside of the city, and it was a long drive to their home. Despite the trip, Mason loved to visit them. They often had cousins only weekends at their house. Otherwise known as the grandkid party. The house would be filled with children and laughter while his grandmother made homemade pizza rolls—crescent dough filled with red sauce, cheese, and pepperonis. Inside Mason's, she would always sprinkle a little garlic powder. After dinner, they would pop popcorn and watch movies. The nights ended with children scattered across the living room floor asleep. Each time the family-filled weekends would end, Mason would begin anticipating the next. He was going to miss those weekends.

The news that his grandfather passed came on a Thursday. Mason's mother cried, but not a lot. She had to stay strong for Mama, she would say. His grandfather had been sick for a long time, so everyone had the opportunity to say their goodbyes. Mason didn't know why they had to say goodbye. His mother explained that his grandfather was going away for a long time, but, one day, they would see him again.

"Remember me well," Mason's grandfather said as he laid in the hospital bed.

Once he passed, the family gathered at Mason's house to plan the funeral. It was to take place the following week. That Tuesday, Mason woke up to the sound of his mother crying.

"What happened?" Mason questioned his brother as their mother's wails filled the house.

"She died," he replied.

"Who?"

"Grandma."

"How?"

"Broken heart, I guess."

Mason clutched a small hand over his chest. Feeling for his heartbeat. Mason felt like his heart was breaking too. Tears threatened to overcome him when, suddenly, he tasted garlic in his mouth. Grandma, he thought and smiled. Mason was sad that he would not see his grandmother for a while but happy she would be with Grandad again.

A few days after the funeral, Mason, his brother, and mother went to his grandparents' house. The weight of their absence buried Mason as he walked through the door. For the first time since they passed, Mason found himself crying. His mother tried to console him. Muffling her own sobs. Mason sucked up his tears and decided to be strong for her. Just like she had done for her mother.

Mason's mother went to the kitchen and sat at the table. Mason sat opposite of her. Watching her intensely as she sorted through paper after paper. Occasionally stopping to mark things down in a little black book. When she was finished, she pressed her hands to her face. Mason could hear her breathing become shallow and tight. She was going to cry.

"Don't cry, Mom," he pleaded.

Mason's brother came into the kitchen, "What's wrong, Mom?"

"We don't have enough," she wept.

Mason looked down at her notebook and saw lots of numbers on the page. At the bottom, the number two, followed by many zeros, was circled.

"How much money is that, Mom? I have some money," Mason asked. Thinking of the money he had been saving for a new toy.

"You don't have $20,000, baby."

Mason's mother picked up a few of the papers on the table. Explaining to them what debt meant and how their grandparents had left some of it. She also explained how they had to pay to cover the costs of their funeral.

"It's like when I had to pay for your birthday party," she said, "Understand?"

Mason didn't understand. His party was fun. The funeral, on the other hand, was sad. Why did she have to pay for being unhappy? Mason looked at the papers on the table, contemplating possible solutions. Wait, that was it. Paper!

"Mom, remember you told me paper comes from trees. Well, money is paper, right. So we can make some."

Mason's mother smiled weakly, "Money doesn't grow on trees, honey."

Mason looked disappointed. Why didn't money grow on trees? They had a big tree in their backyard. That could've made them a ton of money. He fell into his thoughts. There had to be some way to help his mother.

That night, Mason waited until everyone was asleep. He emptied a pillowcase and began rummaging through the house for coins. If he gathered up enough of them, it would help. It had to. After a short search, Mason plopped down on the couch with a sigh. He found some pennies in the kitchen drawer, a dollar bill on the laundry table, and a mixture of coins in the couch cushions. If he was going to the corner store with this money, he could get a lot of snacks. Though, Mason wasn't convinced it would be enough to help his mother.

"Are you in need of a miracle?" A man's voice boomed from the TV.

Mason hadn't realized the TV was on. On the screen, there stood a man dressed in a white suit. The man was standing on a white platform with a blue podium in the middle. On top of the podium, there was a small glass bottle. The man held a skinny microphone towards Mason, and he seemed to be waiting for a response. Unsure of what to do, Mason sat up straight on the couch and nodded.

"If you need a miracle to happen. All you need is our miracle water. It can change any circumstance overnight. That's right, folks, you heard it. Overnight. If you believe it, then anything can happen with just a few drops of this water. Do you believe?"

What Mason couldn't believe was his luck. He stood up and nodded again with a wide smile.

"Great! To get your hands on some of this limited-edition miracle water, all you need to do is yell out, 'I need a miracle!'"

The man stood waiting again. His toothy grin and microphone pointing toward Mason. Mason pressed a finger to his chin. He didn't want to be too loud and wake his mother, so he cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered as loudly as he could, "I need a miracle."

"I can't hear you."

Mason looked around, "I need a miracle!" He shouted.

"Alllll right. Your package will arrive soon. So be on the lookout and remember, all you have to do is believe."

The man on the screen bowed, and the TV cut off at the same moment.

"Mason!" His mother's voice called. Striking his nerves like lighting. Before she could yell at him again, Mason scrambled up the steps to his room.

Typically, Mason's mother had to drag him out of bed in the morning, but not today. Mason woke up as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon. He waited by the window all day for the mailman to come. When he saw the blue and white truck pull up, he dashed outside.

"I'll get the mail for you, Mom!"

There were a few letters with big words that Mason couldn't read. He knew how to read his name, and none of the mail had his name on it. The mailman was heading back to his truck when he stopped in his tracks.

"One more," he yelled after a slumped-shouldered Mason.

Mason took the small brown package from the mailman. The box had his name written across it in big, bold letters.

"Yes!"

Inside the house, Mason left the mail on the table and went to his room. There he opened the package and pulled out a small clear glass bottle. It was sealed with a brown cork top. The water inside it looked, well, normal. Still, Mason hoped it would work. Mason went and asked his mother for a pot and some soil. When she asked him what for, he told her he wanted to grow a plant in his room. Happy that Mason was taking an interest in plants, his mother agreed.

"Don't make a mess," she requested, handing him a small pot.

"I need a bigger one."

Mason's mother looked at him hesitantly and then gave him a pot that was the size of his torso. Mason smiled and thanked his mother. Wobbling away with the large pot. Outside, Mason tore a patch of bark from their tree. On the kitchen table, he ripped a page from his mother's black book. That night, Mason crept out of his room again, taking all the materials to the living room. Mason placed the bark inside the ripped page along with a few of the coins he collected. He balled the paper around the contents and put it inside the pot. Once he had the paper ball covered with enough soil, he grabbed his miracle water. The water didn't come with any instructions. Only to believe that it would work, and he did believe. So Mason emptied the entire bottle into the pot.

* * *

Veronica couldn't sleep that night. The past few weeks had been filled with many sleepless nights. The squeaks of her son, Mason's footsteps, made her groan internally. She didn't have the energy to yell at him. Veronica quietly laid in bed, hoping that whatever Mason was sneaking to do didn't leave behind a mess for her to clean. When the sun wiped away the night sky, Veronica sighed. She still hadn't slept.

"Mom! Mom! Mom!" Mason yelled.

Veronica rolled her eyes. What was Mason doing up so early? It was the middle of the summer, and he was screaming like it was Christmas morning. Veronica dragged herself out of bed. Slowly she put on her slippers and robe. Trying to conjure the energy to face her son with a smile. Even if it felt like she had been unplugged.

"Mom, hurry up!" Her eldest son yelled.

Michael was up too? Now she had to hurry. If both boys were up so early, then something terrible must've happened. Anxiety raced through Veronica as she ran down the stairs.

"What's wrong," she said breathlessly, running into the living room. The sight before her snatched her remaining breath. There was the pot she had given Mason the day before, with dirt littered all around it. Blooming out of that pot was an almost 6ft tree. Veronica stepped forward in disbelief. Unable to comprehend what she was seeing, she reached out a shaking hand to touch the tree's leaves. Except, they weren't leaves. This tree was covered with money— over two hundred one hundred dollar bills. Veronica fell to her knees and began to cry. She wasn't sure if it was from disbelief or gratitude. Mason walked over, and she looked up at him with watery eyes.

"Will this be enough?"