Read Online The Between Years by Derek Clendening - Free Book Online
Authors: Derek Clendening
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music was coming from the boarding house next door, but he knew the people who lived there wouldn't play anything so soothing, so sweet-sounding. Then he recognized the tune as the Sesame Street theme. He'd watched the show in the house with Nana whenever mom had dropped him off for the day. But he'd never watched it with Kenny since he was too young for it, so they watched Dora the Explorer instead. When he sat up, he was certain the music had traveled from down the hall.
He rubbed his eyes, rolled out of bed, teetered back and forth, and grabbed the bedpost to balance himself. When he opened the door, the music grew louder, and he noticed the light on in Nana's room. Could've sworn I'd switched the light off and closed the door, he thought. He inched down the hall, wondering if doing so was even safe. Someone could've wandered into the house for all he knew.
The door was open a crack and a wedge of light shined into the hall. He tapped on the door and heard no response, so he pressed it open. Clean air filled his nostrils and he saw that all of Nana's junk had been cleared out. He stood on what looked like a brand new carpet instead of the white shag carpeting that had covered the floor hours before. A bed with pencils and erasers on top for bedposts stood along one side of the room. The rocking chair from his bungalow stood in the corner. The walls were papered with a sky blue background with fluffy clouds. By the window, he noticed the CD player that was playing the Sesame Street theme.
The back wall was dotted with stuffed toys. The Humpty Dumpty and Winnie the Pooh bear were his, but he also noticed a SpongeBob Squarepants and other stuffed toys he didn't recognize. A plastic desk and chair stood in the corner, cluttered with reams of paper that had been scribbled on in crayon. In the middle of the room sat a boy with shiny blonde hair that Randy judged to be four years old. He wore jean overalls and sat at a wooden table with a tea pot and two cups. The chair across from his was empty but pulled out.
Am I supposed to sit in that seat? Randy wondered. Has he been waiting for me?
That can't be right, he told himself. How did this kid wind up in the house? He didn't know the kid from Adam and hadn't been told he would have company either. Certainly, whatever was going on was some mistake or hallucination.
The boy stared up at him then poured tea into his cup and the cup opposite him.
Randy inched forward, uncertain how he should act. He was just a little kid for crying out loud, he tried to tell himself, but the child's presence and nonchalance rendered him uneasy nevertheless. The kid had materialized for all he knew, and yet he was certain the boy looked familiar. So he dragged his chair out, squatted on it, and squeezed his legs together to keep the table level.
What to say, Randy thought. Normally he could have conjured up something to break the silence, but now his mouth felt like it had been filled with cotton. The kid was cute though, he wouldn't deny that. His cheeks were chubby, his smile wide, and his tiny digits fit perfectly around the teacup handle.
Just when Randy's lips parted to ask Who are you? The boy said, “Want to have a tea party with me, Daddy?”
Randy froze. At first, the last word didn't sink in, and he only dwelled on how the boy had said pawty instead of party. Then he squinted, stared closely at the boy's every feature, and realized how much this boy looked like he had at that age.
“ You got a name, little buddy?” Randy asked.
“ My name's Kenny. You know that, Daddy. Don't be silly.”
Randy mouthed the words to his next sentence, partly because he didn't want to regret them, but also because his tongue felt heavy and he didn't want to slur the words. The kid was real and could hear him, he told himself. The fight to scoop him up in his arms and hug him until he could barely breathe seemed impossible to win.
“ Okay Kenny, nice to meet you. But what are you
He rubbed his eyes, rolled out of bed, teetered back and forth, and grabbed the bedpost to balance himself. When he opened the door, the music grew louder, and he noticed the light on in Nana's room. Could've sworn I'd switched the light off and closed the door, he thought. He inched down the hall, wondering if doing so was even safe. Someone could've wandered into the house for all he knew.
The door was open a crack and a wedge of light shined into the hall. He tapped on the door and heard no response, so he pressed it open. Clean air filled his nostrils and he saw that all of Nana's junk had been cleared out. He stood on what looked like a brand new carpet instead of the white shag carpeting that had covered the floor hours before. A bed with pencils and erasers on top for bedposts stood along one side of the room. The rocking chair from his bungalow stood in the corner. The walls were papered with a sky blue background with fluffy clouds. By the window, he noticed the CD player that was playing the Sesame Street theme.
The back wall was dotted with stuffed toys. The Humpty Dumpty and Winnie the Pooh bear were his, but he also noticed a SpongeBob Squarepants and other stuffed toys he didn't recognize. A plastic desk and chair stood in the corner, cluttered with reams of paper that had been scribbled on in crayon. In the middle of the room sat a boy with shiny blonde hair that Randy judged to be four years old. He wore jean overalls and sat at a wooden table with a tea pot and two cups. The chair across from his was empty but pulled out.
Am I supposed to sit in that seat? Randy wondered. Has he been waiting for me?
That can't be right, he told himself. How did this kid wind up in the house? He didn't know the kid from Adam and hadn't been told he would have company either. Certainly, whatever was going on was some mistake or hallucination.
The boy stared up at him then poured tea into his cup and the cup opposite him.
Randy inched forward, uncertain how he should act. He was just a little kid for crying out loud, he tried to tell himself, but the child's presence and nonchalance rendered him uneasy nevertheless. The kid had materialized for all he knew, and yet he was certain the boy looked familiar. So he dragged his chair out, squatted on it, and squeezed his legs together to keep the table level.
What to say, Randy thought. Normally he could have conjured up something to break the silence, but now his mouth felt like it had been filled with cotton. The kid was cute though, he wouldn't deny that. His cheeks were chubby, his smile wide, and his tiny digits fit perfectly around the teacup handle.
Just when Randy's lips parted to ask Who are you? The boy said, “Want to have a tea party with me, Daddy?”
Randy froze. At first, the last word didn't sink in, and he only dwelled on how the boy had said pawty instead of party. Then he squinted, stared closely at the boy's every feature, and realized how much this boy looked like he had at that age.
“ You got a name, little buddy?” Randy asked.
“ My name's Kenny. You know that, Daddy. Don't be silly.”
Randy mouthed the words to his next sentence, partly because he didn't want to regret them, but also because his tongue felt heavy and he didn't want to slur the words. The kid was real and could hear him, he told himself. The fight to scoop him up in his arms and hug him until he could barely breathe seemed impossible to win.
“ Okay Kenny, nice to meet you. But what are you
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