The Vanity of Our Children

Only fools feed Billie. Mom use to tell me that. Billie is the gator that lives in the lake behind our house. Nothing’s wrong with a gator as long as she knows her place. You respect her, and she’ll respect you.

Unfortunately, plenty of fools have settled here in the past few years. They feed Billie like overeager children at some local zoo. It used to disgust mom the way our neighbors spoil Billie rotten. That was before mom became a fool. Now, she feeds Billie just like the other fools.

The two of us are sitting at the dinner table. We aren’t eating though. It’s too hot to do anything, but sit and sweat.

“Can’t you fix the air conditioner?” Mom asks.

“No.”

“Well, pay someone.”

“We can’t afford to,” I sigh. I’ve had this conversation with her already today. “Your father would have done something about this heat,” she says, “he was a war hero you know.”

My dad was nothing of the sort. The military rejected him on account of his love for bacon. Of course, that didn’t stop my dad from sharing all sorts of stories about his adventures in the War and other hogwash. Mom hated those stories once.

I stifle a yawn.

“Go to bed,” Mom says with the false impression of a command.

“I can’t.”

Mom doesn’t ask me why I can’t go to bed. Maybe she already knows. I shiver. Ignorance would be more kind.

“I’m going out. I want to watch the sunset.”

“The sunset,” I repeat.

“Yes, is that okay?”

“Of course,” I answer.

Why is she being so defensive? I decide not to ask. I decide not to say anything. Instead, I move to help Mom out of her chair.

“I don’t need any help” she protests. I don’t believe her, but I back off anyway. Mom struggles for almost a minute, before quietly nodding in my direction. I let her lean on me as she stands up. Neither of us say anything. We don’t dare.

Together, we head out back. I make sure to stay slightly ahead. Billie occasionally makes her home directly behind our house, in an attempt to take advantage of the careless.

I don’t see Billie. She must be in the lake. I’m relieved, but Mom doesn’t seem to notice. Does she even remember Billie? Sometimes Mom forgets all sorts of things, but she always remembers them later. It doesn’t matter. Mom is safe. We are both safe.

There are three chairs sitting in the backyard directly facing the lake. Mom sits in one, I sit in another, and the third is left free for the ghost shared between us.

Almost as soon as we sit down, mom grabs my hand tightly. I expect she’s going to tell me she loves me. She has often done so in the past during periods of overwhelming sentiment.

“I know you Charlie,” she says.

I don’t say anything back. What does she expect of me to say? What is the right thing to say? If I don’t know, how can I say anything? Silence is safe, I finally decide. Stay silent.

“I know you,” mom repeats, “you know that. Don’t you?”

I don’t respond. Stay silent, I remind myself. Stay silent.

“Charlie?”

“I know,” I say giving in.

I’m not sure what Mom wants, but a compulsion to deny her suddenly overwhelms me. I gently but firmly take my hand away. She’s looking at me. Waiting for me to provide her with something. It’s irritating, and yet I’m not sure why. My ignorance only fuels my growing irritation. I close my eyes trying to ignore the growing pressure building up inside my chest.

I don’t recall going to sleep. At most I remember waking. A minute pass before I realize where I am. Another minute passes before I realize Mom isn’t with me.

Where is she? I frantically look for her, until my mind gravitates towards the obvious but horrifying answer. Sure enough, I see Mom swimming in the lake.

Help her! I scream silently to myself. I can’t bear the thought of losing my Mom, but I can’t bring myself move.

Except, upon a second look, I realize that I had mistaken a stranger for my mom. I don’t know this woman. She isn’t mine and I am not hers.

I should still try and save the woman. That would certainly be the right thing to do. It shouldn’t matter that she isn’t family, but it does. I don’t move. I don’t scream.

The stranger goes further and further down the lake. I wonder if she knows that Billie is waiting for her. Don’t think about that. Instead, I sit back down next to two empty chairs, and watch the stranger swim slowly into the night.