One Page #12

Cole had grown to be a good looking boy. His mother, Marta, patted him on the head and ruffled his hair. The boy stood there and grinned. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he stood with his feet spread apart and his shoulders squared. Marta beamed down at him. The guests admired the boy and pinched his cheek. When the guests had retired to the living room, Marta brought his son upstairs for bed. Her husband would entertain until Cole had gone to bed. She watched him brush his teeth and put his pajamas with trains on. As he buttoned the shirt up the front she thanked him for being so good downstairs. He nodded and climbed into bed. Cole pulled the covers up to his chin and turned on his side, away from his mother. She sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over his body to give the boy a kiss on the cheek. She ruffled his hair again and stood to leave. She left the door open a crack and went back downstairs to her guests. John was telling stories from the police department and keeping everyone amused. She joined him at his side and he automatically put his arm around her waist. His other hand held a glass of white wine. He raised it to a toast. Upstairs, Cole got out of bed and went to the head of the stairs. He peered through the banister rungs on his hands and knees and watched his father toast his mother. She stood there with a smile on her face, arms crossed over her chest. The guests drank and Cole’s father got his mother a glass of wine. They moved out of view. Cole watched the guests, but all they did was talk and drink and he quickly lost interest. He walked back to his room and shut the door all the way. The noise from downstairs was muffled. He turned the light off and went to the window. He looked outside and saw a couple arriving to the party late. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders and they were looking at each other and laughing. The woman tripped on one of the cobblestones, but her husband caught her. They disappeared under the porch roof. The street was quiet and the street lamps hummed in their orange glow. The stars were mostly hidden by the city lights, but Cole could see the moon through the trees. He climbed back into bed and stared at his glow-in-the-dark stars that dotted his ceiling. He had formed a few of them into the shape of Orion, his favorite constellation. He heard his mother laughing downstairs, a distinctive piercing shriek. A moment later he heard glass shatter on the kitchen floor. The tiles were unforgiving. This was the beginning of the end of all of his parent’s parties, and he wondered why they did it. Every night they lost several glasses and sometimes even a full bottle to the floor.