Category: Charlie’s Room

“Dad!” Charlie yelled from his room one morning. “There’s a spider in my room. Get rid of it, please.” Isaac heard a rumble of footsteps in the hall and then Charlie dashed into the kitchen and looked around. Isaac was pulling toast out of the toaster. “There you are,” Charlie said. “Did you hear me? It’s a giant spider!”

“I don’t think it’s very interested in eating you, Charlie,” Isaac said.   “You’re much too big.”

“What if it’s poisonous?” Charlie asked. “You need to get rid of it. It’s really, really scary.”

Isaac finished buttering the toast and added it to the plate. “All right. Are you all ready for school?”

“I can’t put my shoes and socks on because of the spider. It’s over by the closet. If it’s not there, maybe it’s inside my shoes waiting to bite me,” Charlie said. “Oh, hey, is that toast?” Charlie leaned over the plate. “I’ll eat that while I wait for you. It’s best warm after all.”

“Okay, but then you need to toast more slices for Mom. She’ll be out soon,” Isaac said.

“Fine, fine. Can I add some cinnamon sugar? It’s better that way,” Charlie said. It looked like he’d already forgotten all about the spider.

Isaac smiled. “Sure, that sounds good. Add some to Mom’s too.” Then he went to Charlie’s room to find the spider.

There wasn’t a spider in front of the closet. Isaac checked each of the shoes. He tapped the heels on the floor, bracing himself for when a giant spider came tumbling out. But, there was no spider in the shoes.

He took a deep breath and checked under the bed. It was dark under the bed and a little dusty. He pulled out the socks and book and pencils that he found and put them away.

No spider on the bed or desk. He decided to check the bookshelf and give up.   He was rather relieved that the spider had disappeared to wherever spiders go when they aren’t going around scaring people.

Unfortunately, there was a giant spider on the bookshelf. It looked as big as a golf ball. Well, if you included the legs. Isaac looked at it. The body wasn’t so big, really. It wasn’t doing any harm either.

It was just standing on a book, looking at him. It was much more peaceful than the neighbor’s little tiny noisy dog. Nobody was scared of the neighbor’s dog. He almost left it alone, but then he remembered Charlie’s question. What if it’s poisonous?

Hmmmm. How can you tell? He could probably look it up later, but he was in a hurry now. Isaac looked at the peaceful spider. He couldn’t smash something tiny and peaceful and possibly harmless. Even if it was a little scary.

Isaac went back to the kitchen for a glass. “Did you get rid of it?” Charlie asked. He was buttering toast for Marianne.

“Not yet,” Isaac said. “I think I’m going to take it outside and let it go.”

“As long as it’s far away from my shoes,” Charlie said.

“Of course,” Isaac said. He went to his desk and picked up an index card. He would trap the spider under the glass and slide the card under.   Once it had stepped on the card, he’d carry it outside to freedom. It seemed like a flawless plan.

Isaac returned to the room. The spider was still on the bookshelf, sitting peacefully on a book. Isaac hesitated. He had an irrational fear that the spider would jump at him if his hand came too close. Without thinking about it, he quickly slammed the glass down over the spider.

Now to slide the card under the glass. He brought the card closer just as the spider skittered over to the inside edge of the glass. Isaac looked at it warily. He pressed the card down onto the book and prepared to slide it along the cover and under the glass.

The spider tapped at the glass with a leg. The glass shattered. Isaac fell forward a little bit, because he’d been leaning a little on the cup to hold it down. The spider darted up the wall behind the bookshelf, and Isaac threw himself backwards.

The spider slowed down and climbed up into the windowsill. Isaac stood up and wiped nonexistent dust from his pants.   The spider paused in front of the window. Did it want out? Was it going to break the window?

Isaac went to the window, making sure to give the spider plenty of space.   He slowly reached for the window latch, ready to pull his arm away at once if the spider moved. It didn’t move. He pulled the window open and took several steps away. The spider climbed out the window.

Isaac waited twenty seconds before he shoved the window closed and latched it.   There. The spider was gone. He picked up the pieces of glass and went back to the kitchen.

Marianne was at the stove, cooking scrambled eggs and munching on cinnamon toast.   Isaac tossed the pieces of glass in the trash. “Oh no, what happened?” she asked.

“Dad was getting rid of a spider for me,” Charlie said. “Dad, I made you some toast too. Is the spider gone?” He handed Isaac two pieces of cinnamon toast.

Isaac bit into the sweet, buttery toast. He smiled. “The spider’s gone.”

“Did you put it outside?” Charlie asked.

“I helped it go outside,” Isaac said. “But it broke the glass.”

Marianne went to the table to put eggs on the plates. “You need to be more careful Isaac, you could have been cut.   Did you get all the pieces?”

“Yes, it broke in rather large pieces when the spider hit it with its leg,” Isaac said.

Charlie laughed. “Spiders aren’t really that strong, Dad,” he said. “Not even giant spiders.”

“This one was,” Isaac said.

When Charlie was younger, he liked to scribble on the walls of his room. He eventually saw the merit of being able to carry around his artwork and share it with everyone, but for a time Marianne was constantly telling him, “Charlie, we draw on paper not walls.”

“But the walls are boring,” Charlie would say.   “They need more pictures.”

“Mommy gets to pick the pictures for the walls,” Marianne said.

“But can’t I pick just one?” Charlie asked.

“Nope, not even Daddy can,” Marianne said. “Just me.”

And it was mostly true. Isaac was only able to pick two pictures for the walls of the house.   For a while, Marianne only knew about one of them. Above his desk, Isaac hung a picture of dinosaurs. He and Charlie liked to look at it and tell stories about what the dinosaurs were doing and thinking.

The other was one of Charlie’s scribbles. Isaac wasn’t sure if he’d picked the scribble or if the scribble had picked him. One day, when Charlie had drawn on his walls for a third time, Isaac offered to clean off the drawings while Marianne took Charlie out to talk and weed the garden.

He had finished scrubbing away most of the crayon, when a little scribble that looked like a blue and yellow puppy started to wiggle. It blinked its purple eyes and wagged its tail. Then it hopped up on its three stumpy legs and ran around in a circle on the wall. It was cute and happy, and Isaac didn’t want to scrub it away.

So, he finished scrubbing the rest of the drawings and scratched the puppy on the head. He managed to lead it down the hallway to the patch of wall next to the dinosaur painting. It ran under the picture and popped into the painting.

It ran around and nibbled on leaves and tried to get the dinosaurs to play.   When they didn’t move at all, the puppy finally settled down and fell asleep behind a tree. Just its nose was poking out from behind the trunk.

When Charlie and Marianne came back in, Charlie apologized to Isaac for the extra work and offered to help him with a chore. It was a bright sunny day, so Isaac helped Charlie put on some more sunscreen and they went out and washed the car.

After that, when Isaac was home alone, sometimes the puppy would jump out of the dinosaur painting and follow him around the house, trailing along the wall behind him. Isaac would scratch its ears gently and draw shapes on the wall with his finger while the puppy chased it around. Isaac named him Scribbles.

One day, Isaac was packing to travel to another town for more training for work. It was going to be long and boring and too far from home to come back in the evenings. Scribbles came bounding into the room and ran around the wall in loops trying to catch his attention.

“Hi, Scribbles,” Isaac said, pausing to play. “I’m going to miss you too. I don’t even have a picture in my wallet of you.”   He looked at his wallet sitting on the dresser. A business card would be just the right size to cover up the puppy.

“Puppy,” he asked, “would you like to come with me on my trip?”

The puppy bounced around on its three legs and wagged its tail. Well, maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t.   He pulled out a business card from the local nursery. He’d picked it up when he’d bought more potting soil for Marianne.

Isaac turned the card blank side up and pressed it against the wall. The puppy ran around the card, coming close to examine it, running off, and coming in close again. Finally, it ran underneath the card. A few moments later and pop, the puppy was sitting on the card, wagging its tail.

Isaac took the card off the wall. “Are you sure you want to come?” he asked. He walked around with the card for a few minutes and then pressed it against the wall again. The puppy curled up and stayed on the card.

Isaac folded the card into some wax paper to keep it safe. Scribbles came with him on his trip. He scratched its ears during the long boring meeting and let it chase his finger around the little card. In the evenings, he let it off the card to run around the walls and stretch its legs.

Then Scribbles would come back and sit on the wall in front of Isaac, waiting to be put on the card again. Isaac let it off the card in the mornings too, and sometimes at lunch.

When Isaac got home, he let Scribbles off the card. Scribbles ran around the house and dove into the dinosaur painting. Isaac started making dinner for when Marianne and Charlie got home from Charlie’s swimming lessons.

The next day, Scribbles was waiting on the wall when Isaac was gathering his things for work. “I don’t want to wear away your crayon by carrying you in my wallet too often, Scribbles,” he said. Scribbles followed him all the way to the door.

At lunchtime, Isaac went to a copy shop and got a blank business card laminated.   That afternoon, he held it against the wall. The puppy jumped on without any problems. Isaac ran his fingers over the card and couldn’t feel the crayon marks. He held it back up to the wall and waited until scribbles popped off the card. His idea worked.

After that, sometimes Scribbles came with Isaac to work. Or to the library. Or the grocery store. Scribbles liked to see new places and never made any noise. So it mostly went well.

One day, Marianne saw Scribbles in his wallet. “Oh, did you laminate one of Charlie’s drawings? That is so sweet. I should do that too! If I pick one, will you get it laminated for me just like that?”

“Of course I will,” Isaac said. “I love Charlie’s drawings. This one’s my favorite.”

“I can see why,” Marianne said. “It looks so happy. Just like Charlie.”

Aunt Doris broke her hip and Marianne flew out to help her recover. So, it was just Isaac and Charlie at home. And here it was, Monday morning, and Isaac’s alarm hadn’t gone off. They weren’t late yet, but he had ten minutes to get Charlie to school. It was going to be a bit of a rush.

Charlie was eating dry cereal out of a baggie as Isaac drove around the last corner. “It looks like you’re going to be on time,” Isaac said. “We did it. I think we’re going to have a good day after all.”

“Yeah, I guess.   It’s Monday after all,” Charlie said.   “Oh no! I just remembered I have a history test today.” He frowned.

“You’ve been keeping up on your reading,” Isaac said, pulling up to the school. “You’ll be fine.”

“You don’t understand,” Charlie said. “I’m not wearing my lucky socks. Please go get them. I really, really need my lucky socks. Please, Dad?”

“I’m already late for work, Charlie. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Isaac looked in his rear view mirror. The line of cars behind his was getting longer. “Hop out, Charlie. We’re holding up the line.”

Charlie’s eyes teared up. “Please, Dad,” he said.   “Mom would get them for me. I need them. Please?”

Isaac sighed.   What was ten more minutes? “What do they look like?” he asked.

“Thank you, Dad!   They’re light blue with green spots, and they’re at the top of my sock drawer. Thank you. Bye!”   Charlie beamed and hopped out of the car.

Isaac sighed again and battled his way against the flow of traffic. He got home, checking the time on the car’s clock. He needed to be at work in five minutes or he’d be late for the meeting. It was impossible. He got out of the car. He was here, so he might as well find the socks.

He opened a few drawers before he found Charlie’s sock drawer. The socks were right on top. Isaac smiled, picked them up, and closed the drawer. His phone rang.

“Hello, this is Isaac,” he said.

“Isaac, I’m glad I got a hold of you,” the office manager said. “I’m sorry this is such late notice, but go back to your car and go home for the morning. The building is being fumigated, so come back after lunch. The meeting’s been rescheduled to one. I’m really sorry I didn’t find out sooner.”

“That’s all right,” Isaac said. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“No problem,” the office manager said. “Well, I have to go. More phone calls to make. See you later. Bye.”

“Bye,” Isaac said.   He looked at the socks. It had to be a coincidence. Well, it sure made the morning easier. Now he needed to take the socks to Charlie.

He strode down the hall and opened the front door. There was a package there. It hadn’t been there a moment ago. He looked up and down the street. No one was there. He put the socks in his pocket, brought the package inside, and opened it.

It was the book he’d preordered, but it wasn’t supposed to be out for another day. He flipped it open. The author had signed it. He checked the name on the package to be certain they hadn’t mixed him up with someone else.

He set the book on his desk and went out to the car. There was more gas left in the tank than he’d remembered. Every light was green on the way back to the school. The office worker smiled at him when he came in to drop off the socks. She offered him a mint, and it was his favorite kind.

He held out the socks. “Charlie needs these for class today,” he said.

“I’ll make sure he gets them right away,” she said. She took the socks and reached for a pen. “Oh!” she said. “There’s my earring. I’ve been looking all over for it.”

Isaac smiled.   “I’m glad you found it. Thank you for your help,” he said. He headed out to the car. Was it fair to give Charlie an advantage on his test like socks that lucky? He’d have to talk to Charlie about the socks when he got home.

Marianne came back from tucking Charlie in. “I think his blankie needs to be retired soon,” she said. “It may not make it through another wash cycle.”

“Oh no,” Isaac said. “He’s going to be so sad.   It’s been such a good blanket.   He’s had it since before he was born.   It’s even older than Socks.”

“Yes, well, socks hasn’t had to go through the wash nearly as often,” Marianne said.

“Good thing too,” Isaac said. “Cats hate water. We’d probably wake up covered in scratches.”

Marianne laughed.   “It’s a good thing his claws are just painted on then.” She sighed.   “The blanket wouldn’t get dirty so often if he didn’t insist on wearing it to breakfast.”

“You’re probably right,” Isaac said.

“Well, it’s too late now.” Marianne picked up her book. “Luckily we don’t need to worry about it just yet. I think it might last a few weeks longer.” She found her page and started reading. Isaac picked up his book and joined her.

Unfortunately, two days later, Charlie didn’t notice he was shutting the corner of his blanket in the door. When he started to walk away, the blanket tore, leaving a jagged zigzag gap from corner to corner. Isaac came running when he heard the dismayed yelp.

“Charlie, what happened?” he asked.

“My blankie!” Charlie said. He started to tear up a bit.

Isaac started to put an arm around him and realized that he was still holding his toothbrush.   He hugged Charlie with his other arm.   “Come on. Let’s take it to Mom and see if she can patch it up again.”

Marianne was in the kitchen rinsing the pot Isaac had used to make the oatmeal.   She shut off the water and turned. “Why the sad faces?” she asked.

“My blankie got caught in the door and it tore,” Charlie said.

“Oh dear,” Marianne said. “Let me see.” She examined the tear. “I don’t think I can fix this. The fabric is just too worn out.”

Charlie started to sniffle a little. “Can’t you put a patch on?” he asked.

“It will just tear again,” Marianne said. “Probably while I’m trying to sew it. Why don’t you wrap yourself in it for breakfast one more time and maybe this evening we can give it a funeral.”

Charlie slid into his seat and arranged the torn blanket around his shoulders. Marianne tried to help. Isaac rinsed his toothbrush and put it away and came back.   The blanket still wasn’t tucked in quite right.

Isaac tried to help tuck an end under so that the fluffy tear wasn’t tickling Charlie’s face. “Well, that sort of worked,” he said. The blanket managed to untuck itself and slide down Charlie’s shoulder.   Charlie giggled. “I spoke too soon,” Isaac said.

The blanket kept trying to resist their efforts to tuck it around Charlie. In the end, they finally managed to get it to stay put.   By that point, they were all laughing.   They left the house smiling.

By afternoon, Charlie was sad again. “Can I bury my blankie in the back yard so that I can visit its grave?” he asked.

“It’s made out of cotton, so I guess that would be fine,” Isaac said. Charlie looked confused. “Natural fibers should be safe for the animals that live there,” Isaac explained.

“Oh, okay,” Charlie said. “I’ll get my shovel and dig a hole under the tree. You ask mom if we can pick some of her daffodils.”

“She’s more likely to say yes if you ask her,” Isaac said.

“Then tell her its me asking,” Charlie said.

“All right.”   Isaac found Marianne. She agreed to donate the flowers for the funeral and picked them herself.

After an appropriately solemn funeral, they went inside for a quiet evening. Charlie had a hard time falling asleep. Isaac read him four chapters from their book, and finally he heard soft snores. He turned out the light and whispered goodnight.

He went to the kitchen for a drink of water. After that much reading, his throat felt really dry. He stood in the dark kitchen that was softly illuminated by the light of the streetlights outside and looked at the tree in the backyard.

Something was moving in the shadows at its base. Was an animal digging up Charlie’s blanket? Isaac stepped closer to the window and looked out. He couldn’t tell what it was. He pressed his face to the glass.

It was the blanket. Somehow, it was pulling itself out of the dirt. Ragged and torn, it rose from the ground at last, suspended from its center by an unseen thread like a Halloween ghost.

As Isaac watched, it began to fade. It grew lighter, and lighter, thinning out like the edges of a bank of fog. Then it was gone.

Isaac opened the door and looked out. The yard was quiet. He walked over to the edge of the grave. The earth looked turned up at the center.

Isaac patted the dirt back down. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. He hoped the blanket was happy wherever it just went. It had been a very good blanket, after all.

Isaac had to stay at work late to work on a project. Luckily it meant that he didn’t have to come back in until after lunch tomorrow. He yawned. He was definitely going to sleep in as late as possible.

The streets were usually crowded when he drove home from work. Today they seemed empty. Maybe everyone disappeared while he was at work and he was all alone in the city?   He stopped at an intersection and watched a car drive through from left to right.

Of course he wasn’t alone. That had been a strange think to think. He must be more tired than he thought. He turned up the radio to a station that played popular music. The strange lyrics and simple melodies kept him awake as he finished driving home.

He hung up his coat and left his shoes in the entryway. He walked quietly through the house to the kitchen in his socks. He poured himself a glass of water and walked around as he sipped it. The streetlights left patches of golden light in the kitchen and living room, but otherwise the house was dark and silent. Everyone had gone to bed hours ago.

He left the glass in the sink and went down the hallway, lit by both the nightlight plugged into the hallway wall and the nightlight in Charlie’s room, shining through his open doorway.

Isaac stepped inside to check on his son. Charlie was sprawled out on his loft bed, one hand hanging over the side of the bed.   Isaac smiled. Charlie’s hand would feel all pins and needles in the morning if he left it like that. He went to tuck the hand up on top of the comforter and paused.

Charlie’s hand was covered in little green dots. What did it mean? Was it some sort of strange tropical disease? Perhaps there was something festering in Charlie’s seashell collection. Were you supposed to bake everything in the oven to kill germs? Surely he’d read that somewhere.

Isaac glanced at the seashells, huddled together in a dark corner on top of the bookshelf.   They did seem a little menacing.   What if Charlie lost his hand and they couldn’t get a prosthetic for him that would work while he was swimming?   Could he swim one-handed?   Charlie loved swimming. He’d find a way to make it work.

What if it wasn’t a disease? What if it was a curse?   Cutting off his hand wouldn’t save Charlie from a curse. But Isaac had a business card from a wizard and he could call him for help. Charlie would be okay if it was a curse.

But what if he’d been bit by a radioactive spider? When he was younger, Isaac had heard kids talking about it. Apparently it had happened to someone and the poor kid ended up being part spider. Isaac wasn’t really sure how that worked. Did he grow extra legs? Eat bugs?   Sleep in corners?

No matter what, Isaac and Marianne would love Charlie and help him through it. Whether he lost a hand or grew six more, they’d find a way to make sure Charlie would live as normal a life as he could. He would grow up happy and well-adjusted. It was all going to be okay.

So, he’d just wake up Charlie long enough to find out what happened and spend the rest of the night planning. He didn’t have to go into work until after lunch. Isaac yawned. Wow.   He was really tired. He’d better get started.

“Charlie,” he whispered.   “Charlie, wake up for a moment.”

“Dad?” Charlie said sleepily. “You’re home.”

“Charlie, you have green spots on your hand,” Isaac said.

Charlie looked at his hand. “It’s marker. From making my science poster. I was illustrating the life cycle of dandelions. I’ll show you in the morning.”

Marker? Isaac felt so relieved. And very, very tired. “Okay. Go back to sleep, Charlie.   I love you.”

Charlie smiled.   “I love you too, Dad. ‘Night.”

“Good night,” Isaac said. Charlie rolled over on his side.   Isaac slipped out of the room.   Marker. He certainly worried about silly things when he was tired.   He was going to sleep in tomorrow and do his best to not have to work late again. His heart couldn’t take the extra stress.

“I can’t believe it’s still so cold,” Marianne said. “It will make Charlie’s field trip to the zoo a little miserable.”

“They did schedule it in March,” Isaac said. “They should have expected it to be cold.”

“I imagine they got a good deal on tickets or something.”   Marianne sighed. “Now we’ll all freeze.”

“You didn’t have to volunteer to chaperone,” Isaac said.

“Of course I did. You’re just jealous. You have a boring day ahead of you,” Marianne said.

“At least I’ll be warm,” Isaac said. “Besides, I’m meeting Cousin Reginald for lunch.”

Marianne made a face, and then laughed.  “I’ll take my day, cold and all.”

That evening, Charlie had lots to say about the zoo. The polar bears had been especially active, and Charlie was certain that a tiger had been stalking him. “And the birds came right up to us at lunch and took the food right out of our hands,” Charlie finished.

“They were pigeons,” Marianne said.

“Ah.” Isaac nodded.

“So, how’s Cousin Reginald?” Marianne asked.

“He’s invented face muffs and he’s trying to patent them,” Isaac said. “It looks like he has giant fluffy blue eyebrows and a big fluffy blue mustache.”

“That sounds cool,” Charlie said. “I’d wear that.”

“Great. He’s promised to make some for all of us,” Isaac said. Marianne groaned and Charlie cheered. “Unfortunately, we can’t have them until he has his patent.   He’s afraid of rival inventors.”

“Awww,” Charlie said.

Marianne nodded. “That makes sense.”

“While waiting to hear back, he wrote a novel. He insists that it will bring the world together and usher in world peace,” Isaac said. “He gave me a copy. I’ll go get it.” Isaac stood up.

“It’s published already?” Marianne asked. Isaac paused in the doorway. “Isn’t that pretty quick? He didn’t mention it before now.”

“He says that publishing companies are too mainstream.   He self-published,” Isaac said.

Marianne rolled her eyes. “Of course he did. He and his second adolescence.   He acts like anything normal is a bad thing. Go on then, go get it so we can see it.”

Isaac left and returned with a huge paperback book.   The cover was black with red writing that said World Peace. Isaac set it on the side table with a thump.

“That’s a big book,” Charlie said. “Do we have to read the whole thing?”

“We can at least read the first few pages,” Marianne said.   “It looks like he put a lot of effort into writing it. Besides, I’m curious to hear how a book can cause world peace. Why don’t you start reading, Isaac. We have some time before dinner is ready.”

“All right,” Isaac said. He started reading. The oven timer woke them up a half hour later.

“Did we all just fall asleep?” Charlie asked.

“I didn’t even read past the first page,” Isaac said.

They all looked at the book. It had fallen off Isaac’s lap and somehow landed on the floor face up.   “That is a dangerous book,” Marianne said.

“I like it,” Charlie said. “Read it to me the next time I have nightmares, Dad.”

Isaac laughed. “I’ll leave it on the bookshelf in your room.  Let’s have dinner, and then we can write Cousin Reginald a thank you note for his gift.”