A New Start, Again
My new bedroom had pineapple-patterned wallpaper and one large window that showed nothing but black, black woods that first night. No curtains yet to shut them out. I dropped the last of my personal cardboard boxes onto my new bed and let myself flop down beside it. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and sleep for a long, long time. It didn't matter that the mattress was still bare and I'd left my pillow on the couch down the hall.
"I'm going to order pizza, honey, okay?" my mom shouted from the kitchen. "What do you want on it?"
"I don't know," I called back. "Pineapple." The sound of footsteps and then she poked her head around the door frame.
"Seriously?" she said. "Pineapple? That's daring of you."
"New place, new taste." I glanced up at her; she looked skeptical. I turned my face into the mattress and mumbled, "Just get cheese. Or maybe onions and mushrooms."
"Teddy, come on, get up, you can't sleep like that." She'd come all the way into the room now. "Which box has the sheets?"
"I don't know," I sighed. "I don't remember."
She chose an unmarked box at random and began struggling to open it. "I don't know how you can manage to not remember such basic things when you're able to--" I cut her off, pushing myself up and swinging my feet onto the floor as I did. "I was thinking about something else when I packed them, I guess. You don't have to help me unpack, I can take care of this room."
Her breath caught. She wasn't listening to me anymore. She'd uncovered a treasure in the first box she'd opened: a pair of small, blown glass birds. One had its wings outstretched in flight, its beak open, caught forever mid-crow. The other stood with its neck craned forward, head tilted in a show of alertness. My mother held them both up, delicately, fondly, letting them catch the light. And I felt it happening, that thing that separated me from other people and simultaneously brought me closer to strangers than most people were to friends -- I saw her memories. I remembered with her, as her. Somewhere there was an old mantel clock chiming, the Westminster chime. There were birds arranged on a desk, and beside the desk a pale beige shag rug; bare feet liked to wiggle against it and little hands liked to reach up and pluck the birds off of their home on the desk to fly around the study.
“These were my Uncle Jamie’s,” my mother commented. "I used to play with them before I knew better."
“I know.”
“I know you know.” She threw me a teasing smile. “It’s just nice to say things out loud sometimes. I didn't realize you'd held onto these." She stood up and looked around the room, one bird in each hand. "Where do you want them?”
“I’ll figure it out later." I laid back on the mattress again.
She gave me a sidelong glance as she placed the birds down on the dusty bureau. "I know you're tired, sweaty -- I am too -- but you have to get some things unpacked tonight. You're starting school tomorrow."
I nodded, closing my eyes. I was not looking forward to that.
“Well. Let me call for our pizza and then I'll be back to help you get your sheets on -- that's as good a place as any to start." She was quiet for a moment -- I imagined her looking at me, worrying maybe. I thought she might be expecting some sort of response, so I said, "Okay. Onion and mushroom?"
"Onion and mushroom," she agreed with a sigh.
Then she left me alone with the bed and the boxes and the window.
Teddy Munin
Original Character
Prompt from charloft
"I'm going to order pizza, honey, okay?" my mom shouted from the kitchen. "What do you want on it?"
"I don't know," I called back. "Pineapple." The sound of footsteps and then she poked her head around the door frame.
"Seriously?" she said. "Pineapple? That's daring of you."
"New place, new taste." I glanced up at her; she looked skeptical. I turned my face into the mattress and mumbled, "Just get cheese. Or maybe onions and mushrooms."
"Teddy, come on, get up, you can't sleep like that." She'd come all the way into the room now. "Which box has the sheets?"
"I don't know," I sighed. "I don't remember."
She chose an unmarked box at random and began struggling to open it. "I don't know how you can manage to not remember such basic things when you're able to--" I cut her off, pushing myself up and swinging my feet onto the floor as I did. "I was thinking about something else when I packed them, I guess. You don't have to help me unpack, I can take care of this room."
Her breath caught. She wasn't listening to me anymore. She'd uncovered a treasure in the first box she'd opened: a pair of small, blown glass birds. One had its wings outstretched in flight, its beak open, caught forever mid-crow. The other stood with its neck craned forward, head tilted in a show of alertness. My mother held them both up, delicately, fondly, letting them catch the light. And I felt it happening, that thing that separated me from other people and simultaneously brought me closer to strangers than most people were to friends -- I saw her memories. I remembered with her, as her. Somewhere there was an old mantel clock chiming, the Westminster chime. There were birds arranged on a desk, and beside the desk a pale beige shag rug; bare feet liked to wiggle against it and little hands liked to reach up and pluck the birds off of their home on the desk to fly around the study.
“These were my Uncle Jamie’s,” my mother commented. "I used to play with them before I knew better."
“I know.”
“I know you know.” She threw me a teasing smile. “It’s just nice to say things out loud sometimes. I didn't realize you'd held onto these." She stood up and looked around the room, one bird in each hand. "Where do you want them?”
“I’ll figure it out later." I laid back on the mattress again.
She gave me a sidelong glance as she placed the birds down on the dusty bureau. "I know you're tired, sweaty -- I am too -- but you have to get some things unpacked tonight. You're starting school tomorrow."
I nodded, closing my eyes. I was not looking forward to that.
“Well. Let me call for our pizza and then I'll be back to help you get your sheets on -- that's as good a place as any to start." She was quiet for a moment -- I imagined her looking at me, worrying maybe. I thought she might be expecting some sort of response, so I said, "Okay. Onion and mushroom?"
"Onion and mushroom," she agreed with a sigh.
Then she left me alone with the bed and the boxes and the window.
Teddy Munin
Original Character
Prompt from charloft