Say Aunts by Kayla Cain

Rooooolllllll. Bang!

Rooooolllll.

Catch.

I love the solid smack of my dad’s old cue ball into my small palm. I sit against the foot of my bed rolling the ball across the floor so it ricochets off the baseboard back to myself. I’m only feeling my own momentum, but I can pretend it’s from someone else.

The wooden staircase creaks. Unintelligible whispers grow as visitors approach the second floor.

Rooooolllllll. Bang!

Rooooolllll.

Catch.

“Listen!” I hear Aunt Jan tell the visitors.

Rooooolllllll. Bang!

Rooooolllll.

Catch.

“That’s Jesse playing in his room,” she says. “Let’s go see.”

I stand to prepare for the visitors, letting my ball drift.

“Jesse?” Aunt Jan says, squeaking open my door – my ball still rolling. Gasps accompany the footsteps.

“There is always a lot of activity in this room,” Aunt Jan says. “For a little extra, we could try communicating with Mr. Boswell’s son, Jesse.”

Aunt Jan gestures to a round table with a glass jar marked “Tip” sitting on it. Then, following more footsteps, sliding chairs, and the clink of the jar, Aunt Jan sits. She’s not really my aunt, but she’s named Jan, and she visits often, so I started thinking of her like that.

“Jesse,” she says. “We have come to visit. We mean no harm.”

Three others appear around Aunt Jan, all their eyes closed.

“Jesse, if you’re here, press the green light on the table.”

Time to touch the lights again. That’s what Aunt Jan always wants, and I enjoy it, except when the lights won’t work – or sometimes it’s like my finger won’t work – but I can usually answer yes or no questions.

 I get the chance to play with the lights, and other toys, every few days because Aunt Jan comes all the time with different friends. They can never see me, and they can’t hear me unless I speak into a box that lights up and makes sounds like a rushing river. Even then, only parts of what I say break through the waves.

I can always see Aunt Jan, but her friends fade in and out as if through a veil in the wind – only sometimes does it blow exactly right to lift and reveal the faces and voices beneath. I don’t understand why the veil doesn’t cover Aunt Jan, but I’m grateful it doesn’t. Except for when she visits, I spend all my time alone – and that’s how it’s almost always been.

I remember a short time when things were different, when I could see everyone and they could see me. No veil. So easy.

Way back then, Mother, Father, and I spoke all the time around a dinner table. I often asked Father to play catch with me after dessert. Mother usually told me to go straight to bed, but every now and then she’d allow it. We’d slip on baseball gloves and toss the ball back and forth in the sunset. I would have Father’s full attention for about half an hour. Those were the happiest times of my life.

One evening, after I excused myself, I overheard Mother and Father talking when they thought I couldn’t hear.

Mother said, “I’m ready for a baby of my own, not a boy from your previous wife.”

Then Father said, “I know, Darling. We’re trying. Your time will come.”

I ran to my bedroom, tummy swirling with only a little sadness about what Mother thought of me. Excitement overwhelmed all other emotions. I loved the idea of having a sibling to play with.

I waited and waited for my sibling, but they never arrived. When Father fell from the hay loft and broke his neck, I missed him and the brother or sister I’d never meet.

After Father’s accident, Mother made me stay in my room all the time. I almost never saw anyone. She left ever-dwindling trays of food outside my door and expected me to leave the empty dishes there for her to retrieve. She’d rather I didn’t leave my room even to bring them downstairs and wash myself. When I walked through the hall only to use the bathroom, she’d often yell for me to “quiet down!”

The only new toys I received were Father’s old pool balls – if those can be considered toys. I kept them on my shelf by the books I had just begun learning how to read before Father died. Different personalities developed for each ball and I’d play with them like dolls on my bed so they wouldn’t bang into anything.

One afternoon, I matched the solid and striped colors into pairs because they were siblings. The black 8 ball didn’t have a match, so it sat alone. I moved the cue ball from pair to pair as it inspected them because the cue ball was in charge.

Then Mother burst into my room.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” I said, standing. “I tried to stay quiet.”

“Oh, shush,” she said, searching the room and then pausing at the chest in the corner.

She opened it and found only one blanket folded in the bottom.

“This is perfect,” she said. “Here. Come in here.”

She pointed into the chest.

I hesitated, shocked by her presence and then by her instructions. I glanced at my pool balls.

“Leave those,” Mother said.

She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the chest.

I obeyed. I didn’t have the chance to do anything else.

“STAY QUIET,” Mother said. “I’ll come get you in a few hours.”

When she shut the lid, complete darkness engulfed me. I couldn’t even see a line of light where the lid met the box. It had clicked together into a solid seam. I could make out the sounds of Mother throwing my pool balls onto my shelf and some other shuffling like cleaning.

A little later, I heard a knock at the front door. A man spoke and Mother giggled. Conversation and movement continued, but I couldn’t understand, so I lost interest.

Curled up, I still held the cue ball. Its solidness made me feel safe. I cuddled it as I floated into blackness and fell asleep.

When I opened my eyes, I lay in the same position, but on my bed, still holding my ball. I never saw Mother again. She didn’t even bring me food anymore, but I didn’t feel hungry. Since I didn’t eat or drink, I didn’t use the restroom, so I never left my room. I didn’t want to get in trouble.

Mother had stopped yelling at me about making noise, though, so I started playing catch with myself by rolling my ball on the floor. It became my favorite game until Aunt Jan showed up and gave me real people to play with, like now. 

“Jesse,” Aunt Jan says. “Are you here?”

I touch the green light. It brightens and beeps. Aunt Jan smiles, so I do too.

“Hello, Jesse,” she says. “Would you like to talk to us today?”

I press the green light again.

Aunt Jan brings over the colorful wave-box from the shelf and turns on the rushing river sounds.

“Ok,” she says. “We’re ready. What would you like to tell us?”

I lean in.

“Thank you for always coming to play with me, Aunt Jan,” I say.

A chair scrapes against the floorboards.

“Oh my goodness!” a visitor cries.

Aunt Jan tells the visitor to stay calm.

“Jesse, did you just say ‘aunts?’” Aunt Jan says. “What do you want to tell us about your aunts? Did they hurt you?”

“No,” I say into the box. “You’re my Aunt Jan. You’re nice to me.”

The visitor spins in a blur toward Aunt Jan and says, “He said, ‘Aunt Jan…Nice.’ Did you hear?!”

Aunt Jan nods. With a serious expression on her face, she turns off the wave-box, and tells the visitors that’s enough for today.

When they leave, I play with my pool balls on my bed for a while. Then I sit on the floor to roll the cue ball against the baseboard. I don’t expect visitors for a few days, so I jump a little when my door opens that evening.

 Aunt Jan! I leave my ball and bounce up. Aunt Jan has never been here alone before, and never at this time.

“Jesse?” she says. “Sweetie, are you here?”

I feel a kindness in her voice I haven’t felt since Father died. I approach her.

“I feel your presence,” she says. “It feels safe… and happy. It didn’t always feel that way.”

I don’t know if Aunt Jan can feel it, but I hug her anyway.

Then, she sits on the floor and grabs the cue ball. She rolls it toward the foot of my bed. I get comfortable there and roll the ball back to Aunt Jan. She smiles and rolls the ball back to me.

Rooooolllllll. Catch.

Rooooolllll.

Catch.

We play like this for a while.

When Aunt Jan stands, she tells me she’ll come back to see me tomorrow. My joy radiates.

On the way out, she removes the tip jar.

Kayla Cain  

Image by Erik Hendel from Pixabay – Pool balls – blue, red, orange etc