The Knock at the Door - Aspiring Writers Winner

Charlotte Mielziner’s The Knock at the Door won the Aspiring Writer’s first annual short story contest. Visit her website for more of Charlotte’s writing.

Publication has been approved by Charlotte Mielziner

============Charlotte’s Winning Story==================

Months had passed. Jerry’s growth spurt allowed him to see over the kitchen counter, eye level with the crumbs and smears that Mama failed to wipe away. The sun came through the window and glinted off the greasy plates stacked in the sink. The smell of old cheese sandwiches and scrambled eggs filled his freckled nose. Soft rhythmic sounds of sobbing came from her door.

“Mama, are you alright?” he asked softly.

“Of course I’m fine,” called Mama, her voice shaky, “I’m always fine.”

“Well, there’s garbage all over the kitchen and I’m hungry,” he complained.

Jerry hesitantly pushed her door open. That smell crept out of her room again. He peered in at her and it seemed as if she didn’t take up as much room in the bed as she used to. The phone slipped from her hand onto the cover.

He wanted her to get up. It was past time for breakfast. The hands on the clock said it was almost time for lunch. He wouldn’t get to go to kindergarten again today. He wanted it all to be right again.

“Mama can’t cook today,” she said weakly, “You’ll have to be a big boy and make your own sandwich.”

“We’re out of bread and peanut butter,” he said, “And the milk went bad. I’m sorry, I left it out.”

“That’s OK. Maybe you could just have some dry cereal for now,” she offered.

Feeling dissatisfied, he went to the kitchen and found the Cheerios nearly empty. He turned on the small television and ate a few handfuls. He remembered when she used to make toast and an egg for breakfast before pre-school and his bed was made every day when he came home. But, that was before all this started.

Before she got bad they used to laugh. They’d go to the park on Saturdays and get ice cream on the way home. Sometimes her boyfriend took them to a movie, but he never came around anymore. Lately, Jerry just watched her get smaller. He didn’t think grown ups were supposed to get littler.

He took the rest of the Cheerios and a glass of water to Mama. Her hand trembled as she reached into the box and ate the last bites. They didn’t stay down. Jerry cringed as the smell of vomit added to the rest of the odors in the room. It was never this bad before. He started to leave.

Mama wiped her mouth with a tissue. “Jerry, honey…we need to talk,” she said coughing.

A bad feeling came over the boy. “Don’t you need to take a nap or something?” he asked, backing up.

“I don’t want you to think of me like this,” she said, tears starting to flow again.

“I won’t,” he answered.

She moved closer to the edge of the bed and reached for his hand. “Always remember I love you,” she pleaded.

Jerry rubbed his nose on his sleeve and took her hand. It felt thin and papery. “I will,” he promised.

“Honey, you need to go into your room and put some clothes in a bag,” she said.

“Are we gonna do the washing?” he asked.

Mama coughed again, “No, sweetie…a lady’s going to come by soon.”

“Is she gonna do the washing?” he tried again.

“No… she’s not,” she looked away unable to go on.

He waited a few moments. “Is somebody else gonna do the washing?” he asked.

“Yes, she’s going to take you to see some nice people,” Mama told him.

Jerry didn’t know exactly why, but he didn’t want to see the nice people. He fought back tears. It would worry Mama if he cried. She told him when all this started that big boys don’t cry.

Jerry looked away from Mama and the mess to a picture that sat on her bureau. It was taken when they went to the zoo and got to pet a big red parrot. The keepers let it sit on Mama’s arm and took their picture. He didn’t want to think about that day right now.

He looked back at his mother. “Mama,” he said, waiting for a response.

“Yes, honey,” she whispered.

“Is your hair gonna grow back soon?” he asked.

Then came the knock at the door.