When the policemen told him about the accident, Elliot wasn’t worried about his mom. He wasn’t sad. He was angry with her, frustrated. He’d just spoken to her, no more than an hour ago. She said she was running late, but he didn’t mind; he would wait, just like he always did, rain or shine.
And then, all of a sudden, there he was, just 12-years-old, standing in the rain waiting for his mother to pick him up from school, now being told that she ‘wouldn’t be able to get him because there was a terrible accident’ by two strangers he wanted nothing to do with.
Now, he minded.
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They didn’t have to give him the details, but they did. He didn’t want to hear, he didn’t want to believe, but the expressions on their faces were more than convincing. He was already fatherless, and now, he was motherless, too. She wouldn’t be able to pick him up today, and she wouldn’t be able to pick him up tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that.
So, he stood there silently as the officers finished up their empty ‘sorries,’ wondering: Who’s going to pick
me up from school, now…?
That day, the officers said they would ‘take him home.’
But where, exactly, was home?
His house was the place mom would take him after school; his house was the place mom would prepare meals; his house was the place mom would tuck him in at night; his house was the place mom would set up birthday parties and sleepovers; his house was they place they watched late night movies, the ones his mom would let him stay up to finish; his house was the place he could always run back to, to find her waiting.
His house, now though, was just a place – empty.
It was a house. It was no longer his home.
“Alright now, Elliot… Let’s get outta this rain, huh?” One of the officers placed his hands on the young boy’s shoulders, gently nudging him towards the white car. The flashing red and blue lights caused Elliot to flinch and hesitate. From what he knew, these cars never took people to places they wanted to go; they, oftentimes, did rather the opposite.
He wanted desperately to spring away from the officers and hoof it all the way back, to slam the front door open, thrust his book-bag onto the floor and rush into the kitchen to tell his mother all about the strange day he’d had – but he didn’t.
He was too scared to rush into an empty house, greeted with the echoes of his own trembling voice, rather than her cheerful, “How was your day?”
He couldn’t go back to that house. He wouldn’t go back to that house.
Right now, he had no other options – nowhere else to go; at least this car would take him somewhere. It would give him a place to go, a place to be. For now.
So, he stepped into the car, pausing to watch the rainwater drip from his hair and slide down the smooth, leather seat. He scrunched up his face when the smells of rain, leather and rubber intermingled in the air, and was then trapped in the car with them as the door slammed shut behind him.
The officers didn’t get in; they started talking from outside the car, glancing at him through the window from time to time with frowns and sympathetic eyes – of course, they would.
He slouched in the back seat of the car, squirming as the water squelched between his back and the seat. Drip. Drip. He could hear the drops smacking the black leather, one, sometimes two drops at a time.
How long had he been waiting outside in the rain?
… How long had it been since his mother’s accident?
SLAM, in came officer one.
SLAM, in came officer two.
Brrrrrmmm, started the engine.
SLAM, in came officer two.
Brrrrrmmm, started the engine.
He was too scared to ask.
The metal, gridded gate that stood between the front and back of the car, seemed to separate more than just the front and back seats; the silence was painful, interrupted only by the occasional feedback from the radio scanner, along with the drip, drip, dripping from Elliot’s clothes and hair.
Officer number two, in the passenger seat, turned around and cleared his throat – he cleared the air; he asked, “Elliot… Would you like to go to see your mother?”
Elliot blinked. He stopped breathing, just for that moment. “… What…?”
For that moment, he believed. He hoped. He wished. He wished with all his heart.
The officer must have seen the hope in Elliot’s eyes, because he then turned his back to the boy once more, his voice softer and weaker, “Oh I… We could take you to the hospital morgue… If you wanted to say goodbye or anything like that…”
He hated himself for hoping. He hated himself for being so young, so naïve – so gullible, even though the officer hadn’t given him anything to believe in. “No…” he mumbled, staring out the window, staring at the rain.
The rain. Of course it would be raining on a day like today.
It had been raining like this all day: hard and heavy downpours.
… Had it been raining like this during his mother’s accident?
He saw the other cars on the road, slipping and sliding across the wet pavement as they passed by, when suddenly, he saw it.
He saw her.
It was a navy blue Subaru that seated only five people, hurrying through the rain. She was holding the wheel with one hand, her cell phone with the other, shouting, “Elliot! I’m gonna be a little late this afternoon. I couldn’t get out of the office in time. Are you gonna be okay, honey?”
He flinched when he saw her swerve to the side, tires unsteady on the slippery road. He leaned closer the window, eyes glued to the image.
She frowned, “But honey, you don’t even have your umbrella today! Can you go home with anyone?”
No. No, the boy on the other end of line couldn’t. He’d couldn’t because he’d already sent everyone else home. He’d told them that his mother was coming, because she was. She was coming.
“Alright…” she said, defeated; the boy had won. “I’ll see you in a little bit, okay? 20 minutes, I promise!”
20 minutes.
“Love you!” she kissed the receiving end of the phone and clicked it off, tossing it into the passenger seat, not noticing the Toyota SUV that had lost control and had spun its way into the wrong lane – into her lane – when… It happened.
That’s how it happened.
… Isn’t that how it happened?
He’d spoken to her an hour before. She said she would only be 20 minutes. She took longer. She took longer because of the accident. She took longer because she was in an accident, because she was in a hurry. In a hurry. To pick. Him. Up.
“Elliot!” The car had stopped. They were at a gas station – must have needed a fill up. Officer number two was staring at the boy, worried.
Officer number two spoke, “… You okay, kid? You were choking up back here…”
Choking up? Oh.
He was crying. When had he started crying? He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to dry them, but the tears wouldn’t stop. He stopped trying to stop. He cried. He sobbed.
He wanted. To see. His mother.
“Hey, hey…” Officer number two turned immediately, cursing the existence of the metal gate that separated them. He paused. “I was wondering when you were gonna stop bein’ a soldier…”
A soldier? Elliot was no soldier.
Elliot was the selfish little boy who was angry at his mother for leaving him on the side of the road to be picked up by two strange police officers. Elliot was the selfish little boy who wondered who would take care of him now that his mother was gone.
Elliot was the selfish little boy who didn’t want to go to the hospital morgue to say goodbye to his mother so he could spare himself from seeing it, too childish to admit to the fact that this was all happening, at this very moment.
Yes. He was.
Elliot cleared his throat. “…S-sir…?”
“Call me Alex,” the officer said gently, “What is it?”
“Alex,” Elliot corrected himself. “… I think… I think I’d like to go to the hospital... If that’s okay…”
“Oh?” Alex smiled kindly, warmly, “Of course it’s okay. I’ll just let Nick know when he gets back, and we’ll be on our way.” His smile faded, he looked deep into Elliot’s eyes, and asked, “Are you sure you want to go?”
With no hesitation, and bold, reddened eyes, he replied: “Yes.”
5 comments:
I liked the contrast between Beginning Elliot and End Elliot very muchly! His initial thought of just wanting to go home really mimics a child's thoughts, and I like how he evolves into Big Boy Elliot at the end!
I think that you did a lot of showing rather than telling in your story. And though I did feel Elliot was misfortunate, I wasn't necesarilly sad or attached to him. Maybe a more detailed account of his relationship with his mother would have evoked more sadness. I guess I felt more like the officers - watching a stranger cry and feeling pity, but not knowing what else to do.
Similarly, I think some parts ran a bit long and took away from some of the suspense in the story - a lot of the repetition, for example.
While I was finishing reading this, I kept thinking about how you were saying that you started with a "bittersweet" story that ended up just very emo |D... It just made me laugh a bit at the end. I don't know if that's the ending you're satisfied with, but it's a very good ending!
Strangely enough, the scene that stuck out to me the most was
OFFICER: You wanna see your mom?
ELLIOT: MOMMY?
OFFICER: ...as a corpse?
I liked how it was concise, yet conveyed what it needed to convey in a few lines. It was then first I actually felt a tug of sympathy for Elliot and want to give him a pat on the back. And some candy, perhaps.
WOOOW, YOUR STORY IS SO GOOD!!! XD
but I do agree with Sandy, I couldn't go from pity for to sympathy with Elliot (also, how'd you pick his name?) Also, I like that it was raining in his story, as Sara Bareilles puts it "a clear sky just wouldn't feel right."
roooo, so this is how you write a short story... I need to start reading again...
OHHHH, I JUST UNDERSTOOD THE STORY'S TITLE!!! goodness, what an awesome possum of a title XD
@Sandy: Yeah, I see what you mean. I wish I'd added more on his mother now.. Ahh, advice to use for next time (... though I hope I don't kill off more mommies...)! I was a little iffy on the end, but I'm glad that you liked it! I wasn't sure if it was too rushed or not because of everything else going on, but I couldn't see it going any other way in my head. XD...
As for that part, glad you liked it; I wanted it to be that kind of moment, hahaha.
@Tung: Haha, thank you! I'm glad you liked it! I'll have to work on the sympathy part for all my characters, though. Thanks for pointing that out.
Elliot is just a name that I really like! I didn't really have a method of selecting the name for this particular story, haha. Sorry if you were looking for something with a bit more meaning ;P ...
Also, I'm glad you get the title! Hahaha, I was struggling with it for a while after finishing the story... XD
I can see the title of the story! I can see Elliot progressing in the "Stages" of his mother's death from Fear/Somewhat-Denial [at least that's how i saw it as? :o] to growing up and taking a step forward :o
And I feel for the officers, the awkwardness of the situation :(. Good job on conveying it! :D
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