Skin and Bones

I’ve felt nostalgic all day. Mrs. Way and I have made cookies that are right now cooling off, and my special muffins are in the oven. I used to do this as a kid when I was over here. Mikey usually participated, but he always made boring round cookies and regular shaped muffins. He saw the whole thing as being a task, while I always saw it as a toy. None of the cookies that are right now cooling off are round and the muffins in the oven are anything but regular. It’s hard to shape muffins, but I always succeeded at it. Not even Mrs. Way can figure it out.

I look proudly through the window of the oven – sitting on the tiled floor in front of it. The heat is radiating through the glass and heating up my face, while my feet, legs and butt are cold. The chocolaty, nutty, sweet smell is dancing around me. I always imagined myself being surrounded by the smell like in the cartoons.

“It’s not gonna go any faster if you stare at them.” I look up and see Mrs. Way smiling warmly down at me – her head tilted slightly. I grin. That’s what she always said when I sat here. Next she’d tell me to go play with Mikey, but he still isn’t home.
She laughs lightly, before she slowly lowers herself down onto the floor next to me.
“Oh. I’m getting too old for this,” she says with a strained voice. I hold back a giggle.
She sighs and looks in through the window and I turn my head to do so as well. I stare at my little works and enjoy the feeling of warmth and comfort.
“Is everything okay at home, Frank?” It takes a few seconds for me to come out of my happy place and into the real world and actually hear her question. Then, my face immediately drops.
“Mikey told me about the bruises after you went to bed.” The glass and muffins behind it becomes blurry, and suddenly the warmth from the oven becomes too hot and clammy, and it seems to take away all oxygen around me.
“You said that a gang had beat you, but Mikey said the bruises looked fresh.” My breathing is unsteady – shaky and uneven.
“Frank?” she sighs – worry evident in that one word. I keep staring at the oven – in through the window. I try to hide in the comfort of the smell and the sight and the memories, but I can’t feel it.
“Do you want to stay here for a few days? You can stay in Mikey’s room.” There’s a lump in my throat that just keeps growing. I’m scared to try and swallow it, because I think I’ll throw up if I do.
“Then Mikey can bunk with Gerard.” Suddenly I just let go. I tried holding it in, but suddenly my body just won’t listen to me anymore. I sob suddenly.

My muscles give up and I’m about to fall forward against the hot glass of the oven, when Mrs. Way pulls me sideways and into her arms. She presses my head into her chest while she schusses and whispers comforting words to me.
This is what I’ve lost.