Spares
Mom would call him "duckling" and "sweety". He had pretty cheeks and a pair
of eyes as blue as the sky in summer. She played with him and gladly showed him
to all her friends. She was his Mother. And he was her Treasure. Not the only
treasure, but still.
He was very fond of taking things to pieces. A four-year-old, he already knew
what a screw-driver was for. And he also knew everything about hammers. Being a
treasure, he could take a clock from the table and a bit later return it back in
a handful of spares and screws. He was a big boy and never swallowed any of the
fragments. And he was also honest and always returned things back - a little
changed, yes, but is it really that important?
It wasn't at all important. She could afford buying a new clock, and after all
clocks aren't everything! She was glad that her son was so curious and creative.
She couldn't hide anything from him! And he was so accurate, so intelligent, he
never hurt himself or cut himself or whatever. A wonderboy. An angel with a
charming smile, a smile she'd die for. His questions were "why" and "how". He
was always looking for answers, and they would surprise and stun him. The world
was so big, and the boy was so small! Growing elder, he familiarized himself
with more and more things. He could touch them, taste them (but not swallow
them). He was so smart. Why does the clock tick? Why does the radio talk? Why
does the television show pictures? Why? And how? It was necessary, it was
absolutely vital to understand it. By taking things to pieces.
She was on the brink of crying when he brought her parts of an expensive
calculator or a lamp helix. Don't play with glass! she told him, but he was so
careful. And besides, he only wanted to know...
The only thing he could never understand was why she was crying all the time.
When Mother brought her and showed her to him, he was surprised - and
disillusioned. How could all the family go crazy about this roll of red flesh?
Does this look like a sister? He was a big boy, he knew how sisters looked like.
His best friend Mike had a sister, too. She was big and fat, she could even
punch Mike, but she wasn't red and wrinkled... She didn't spend days and night
crying, and she didn't wear pampers! She didn't smell milk and she had teeth...
She WAS a sister!
She didn't cry the night away.
He stood up and went to the cellar. On his way there he looked at his "sister"
sleeping in her cradle. She was sleeping in a very bad manner - sucking her
finger. She was obviously going to wake up and start crying.
He will handle this. He will put everything back in order. He might even repair
her. Of course he will. And it would be even better to let Mom see.
She'll be happy.
Copyright by Denis Didushok (2002).