as you are

“Mom said they’d drop the bombs,” Charlie whispered. “if dad didn’t leave. That’s why dad had to leave-he had to leave cause they’re gonna drop the bombs. He’s got to stop them.” His eyes beamed a hope that was lost to the rest of us hankered for God knows how long in that bunker.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Neither did his mother or sister. No one would tell him that whenever the grandfather clock struck 12 and Martha climbed up the ladder, she’d see that their father wasn’t coming back. And every 12 hours, she confirmed it again and again.

“Tom, when do you think we’re gonna get out of here. It’s getting a bit too hot and I-I never used to like showers but I can smell myself. I don’t like smelling myself. I can smell you too and I don’t like how you smell. Don’t tell Martha I said so but she’s smelling pretty bad. When we get out of here, we can all take a nice warm shower and just sit in a bath. Do you think we can do that soon, Tom?”

Fuck! Why leave him with me?

Charlie was a good kid. In a different time, a different world, he’d probably be running in a park, hunting cicadas and (I can see it clearly) carrying a bunch of them all squished together in his tiny paws to show his dad.

Not in this world, buddy. I’m sorry.

“Yeah, I think we’ll get out soon… But not too soon. Don’t go getting your hopes any higher than they already are. You’re already doing most of the heavy lifting for us, buddy,” is all I could afford to say.

“Lifting?! Mom and Martha won’t let me do a thing. I’m about as good as Claire and she can’t even get out of bed. Yesterday I wanted to pull down the ladder for Martha but she got really angry at me. Told me to stay put. She was never like this before we came down here but-but nowadays she’s angry all the time. She prolly misses chocolate. She used to love chocolate cake and chocolate pudding and chocolate mousse. Bet she’s angry cause she hasn’t had any chocolate in a long time,” his brown eyes turned over to his sister who was seated by Claire’s bedside.

“Yeah,” I started, “It’s probably the chocolate. But don’t blame your sister. She’s trying her best. It’s not all that fun having to go and open the hatch.”

“Why, Tom? Why isn’t it fun? At least she gets to see the sun — even the stars, I bet. Tom. I just remembered the stars. Do you remember stars? How you’d draw them?” And with his tiny index finger he went on to trace a star against the dust particles floating between his face and mine. “I’d draw them like this. But-but do you want to know what dad said? Dad said that stars don’t actually look that way. He said starfish do but stars don’t. One day he told me stars look like this," once again his index finger traced in the air. This time a circle. “Do you believe it, Tom? I don’t. Stars aren’t circles. The sun’s a circle but dad said something even crazier. He said-he said that stars are suns.”

My eyes remained fixated on that space — those dust particles pulled apart by his fingers now swimming back towards each other.

“Did he now? He said stars are suns? And did you believe him?”

He scratched the back of his head and said, “I-I don’t know but dad knows so much. He used to — when we were home — turn off the TV and sit in his couch and just tell me stuff. Not like stories or nothing but stuff he knew. Like he knew a lot,” with his hands he gestured as though to express the vastness of his father’s knowledge.

Charlie was right. Daniel knew a lot. When we were kids, he was the one that taught me how to fish, how to gut them and how long to leave them on one side against a flame so they could cook just right.

In high school, he said to me, “don’t let ‘em know you like ‘em. You gotta keep ‘em guessing, else they tire of you.” Those words got me my first kiss. It wouldn’t be much longer before he was fashioning a tourniquet out of a T-shirt and some twigs. Doctors said his quick thinking saved my life.

My palm fell on my thigh, stroking it gently. Charlie must have noticed me drifting away cause he said, “hey, Tom. Does it still hurt?”

I gave a shallow smile. It did but I said, “not at all. Just need to give it a good rub, is all.”

“Mom won’t tell me anything. Martha, too. But I’m glad you’re in here with us. At least you tell me things. At least you talk to me,” he said, almost in a whisper as though to keep a secret between the guys.

“Tell me something, Charlie — what do you miss the most?”

Before he could answer, the chimes began to spin and clash against each other. Martha got to her feet almost as though she were wired to the clock. Claire’s eyes followed her as she walked down a dreary narrow hallway.

“Be careful, love,” her mother yelled out as she took Martha’s place next to Claire. “Don’t let Charlie follow you up there until…”

And I knew what she was about to say. It was the reasonable thing to say but she knew, just as Martha had told her, that it was never going to get safe.

“You see, Tom. They won’t let me do a thing. I want to take a peek. Just a bit. Don’t you want to know what it’s like up there?”

I did. I really did want to climb up that ladder, open the hatch and see what the world had come to. I just…

“You know I can’t climb up a ladder, buddy. Can’t even get out of this damn chair,” I blurted before covering my mouth.

“Tom, you said a bad word. Dad used to say it, too. Damn politicians gonna get us all killed, he said when he was reading the papers. Mom got real mad at him and said — mom said, don’t be using that language in front of the boy or he’ll end up locked up or worse. Don’t know what’s worse than getting locked up? Heard once that one of mom’s cousins was locked up. Said he did something bad. Maybe he said a bad word. Tom, do they lock people up for saying bad words? When we get out of here, will you get locked up for saying a bad word?”

I tried to hold back my laughter but couldn’t do it.

“Why are you laughing, Tom? Aren’t you scared of getting locked up? You can’t see none of your friends or watch cartoons or nothing like that when you’re locked up. Mom told me so. Even — even can’t get to talk to me. Won’t you miss me when you’re locked up,” his face got all scrunched up as he said, “when you’re behind bars…”

Martha walked back down the hallway. Not a change on her face. That was enough information. Even Charlie knew what it meant.

“Not today, I guess,” he said under his breath.

“Not today, buddy. But, maybe, soon,” another lie.

“Mom, do you mind spending an hour with Claire?” Martha requested.

“Of course, dear,” her mother responded as Martha walked into the bathroom.

“Please give me some time guys… I just need some…” she shut the bathroom door before she could finish her sentence.

“It can’t be easy on her,” her mother began, “having to go up that ladder all the time. Wouldn’t want to be the one to see what she gets to see.”

Little did she know that her son would give absolutely anything to see what it was that Martha did. Maybe then, he’d have his eyes wide open and the man hiding behind there would make his way out. And just like me, he’d end up quiet, aloof, with his sense of self lost under a cacophony of questions that his lips wouldn’t dare utter.

“Mom,” came the words of a child, “what does she see up there that you won’t let me see?”

His mother placed her palm atop Claire’s forehead.

“If it’s too hard for her then… I was thinking I can help. Maybe not all the time but — yeah, I can do it sometime.”

No response.

Charlie turned to me and said, “you see, Tom. They won’t let me do a thing.”

“I wouldn’t let you, either,” I said regrettably.

His eyes darkened.

“Why, Tom? I just-I just want to see.”

“Well, buddy. I guess we just… We need you to remain as you are. Even if it’s just for a day longer than necessary.”