Storks

It was one of those nights that the whole earth seemed to toss and turn with you. Thunder and lightning strikes in tandem with your thoughts, and rain makes rivers on your window that match the streams on your face. And you stare at the ceiling, trying to work up the courage to throw off the sweaty lump of sheets and run sobbing for your parents. You tell yourself that you can do it alone. You're eight years old. You no longer need your parents' reassurance. Your friends make fun of you for crying at night. "Boys who cry are babies" they say. They make fun of you for a lot of things. Once you talked about how your parents used to show you a blanket and tell you that you were brought down by a stork. And your friend George laughed at you and said that's a baby story. And you said "if you're so smart, then you tell me how babies are made." And he couldn't answer you. But he laughed with your other friend Billy later. You saw them laughing together. They were probably laughing at you and your story about storks. But you know that story is true, because your parents showed you the checkered red and white blanket that you came in. It even had your name sewn into it in gold thread.

Finally you can take it no longer. The shadows on your wall are too dark, the thunder outside is too loud, and you long for the safety of your parents' room where everything is quiet and warm. Thunder cannot reach you when you crawl into your mother's arms.

You are scared, because your parents' door is closed and the hallway is dark. Your parents always told you not to come in if the door was closed. But you're so scared. Surely they won't mind if you come in, just this once.

As you approach the door, there's a new sound mingled in with the thunder. It sounds almost like crying, but that can't be right. Mommy and Daddy don't cry because they're adults. You can't wait until you're an adult so you don't cry anymore. Maybe if you don't cry then George will stop calling you a baby.

You listen closer to the Not Crying sounds, and you get even more scared because you can hear the movement of sheets. Maybe Mommy and Daddy are having a nightmare. No, that's not right. Adults don't have nightmares. Adults don't get scared.

You really don't want to open the door. They told you not to open the door. But the shadow down the hall seems to be moving closer to you and you can't go back to your room because the shadow is blocking the way.

You open the door just as Mommy is yelling Daddy's name. And now you're really scared because Daddy is on top of Mommy and he's not wearing any pants. Mommy says you have to wear pants all the time. Even to sleep. But Mommy isn't wearing pants either. And she looks like she might be sick because she's moving weirdly up and down and her eyes are half closed.

"Mama?"

The weird crying sound stops and Mommy opens her eyes. Maybe she's not sick.

Daddy turns around and he looks mad.

"How many times do we have to tell you, Max? Don't come in when the door's closed. My God, you're so... ugh! Damn it!"

You start crying.

"B-but I had a nightmare..."

"Go back to your room. Now."

You can't understand why he's so mad. But you go outside and shut the door.

Mommy yells at Daddy.

"Come on, Charles, he's just a kid."

"It's fine. It's no big deal.

"I'll be right back. I've gotta talk to him."

"No, you don't. Tell him in the morning. Later, Mary, please? We can finish first."

"No, Charles. We have to tell him."

"How do you explain that to an eight year old? Yeah, sorry about that, kid, we lied about the storks? He's gonna get all weepy. He's a little crybaby."

You stick your fingers into your eyes to stop the tears. You're not a crybaby.

"I'll figure it out. Just go back to bed."

"You can tell him in the morning. Come here."

"No, Charles, I'll be right back."

"Come on."

Mommy makes a weird sound that sounds a little bit like a laugh.

"I said no, Charlie..."

"Aw, you called me Charlie..."

Mommy laughs again.

"You sly dog. Fine. I'll tell him in the morning."

"Good."

They start making that not-quite-crying sound again, and you stare at the shadow at the end of the hallway. It doesn't scare you anymore. You're more scared of Mommy and Daddy now. At least the shadow in your room doesn't lie. But Mommy and Daddy lied. About the stork. What else have they lied about? Did they lie about what happened to Rover? And what happened to Grandma? Did they lie about Santa? About Easter? Did they even lie about God?

The shadow won't lie to you. You can see him now, the man in the shadows. He's the one who told you that George and Billy were making fun of you. He warned you that your parents were liars. He promised he would tell you the truth. And he would never laugh at you. And you were scared of him, because you thought he was dangerous, but now you know he's the only safe one.

And he'll protect you. He'll protect you from them all.

And, most importantly, he'll never, ever, lie.