“What in God’s name is that smell?”
Will got a whiff of the pungent aroma that lofted from the kitchen area to the living room and front door area. He took longer smell and concluded, “Mom’s cooking isn’t she?” “Yup,” a voice from the living room replied. It came from DeMarcus, Will’s younger brother. He was lounged on the brown sofa that covered a large portion of the width of the living room watching the television. “Another recipe from those magazines she gets.” Still standing in the front door area, which was covered in linoleum tile flooring, Will rolled his eyes and asked, “Why Nutrition? She could’ve majored in something useful like, I don’t know, underwater basket weaving or something.” “SHH!” cried DeMarcus as he pointed to the television. “Jerry is about to tell Shaquana who her baby daddy is!”

Will took off his black sneakers. With both sneakers in one of his hands he walked through the living room to the staircase, between the living room and the kitchen. Halfway up the stairs, Will’s mother called him from the kitchen.

“Is that you William?” she asked in a pitch loud enough to reach the staircase.

“Yes Ma’am,” Will shouted back.

She popped out from the kitchen and to the bottom of the stairs.
“Come back down here!” she said excitedly. “I want to hear about your first day!”

“I’ll tell you about it at dinner. I got homework I gotta do,” he replied.

“Wait!” DeMarcus chimed in. “Ya’ll get homework on the first day?! That’s some ol’ bull right there! Man I ain’t never goin’ to high school!”

Will didn’t answer DeMarcus. He just kept walking upstairs. His room was towards the back of the house; to get to it, he’d walk through the entertainment room past both his brother’s and sister’s bedrooms. Unlike their rooms, the door to Will’s room was closed. Although there weren’t any locks on the door, Will felt entitled to at least a little privacy. He entered the room and closed the door behind him. He didn’t turn on the light, there was still a bit of sunlight that gleamed through the hardly open blinds that covered the windows. He dropped his shoes on the floor, and then his backpack from his shoulders, and noticed the bundle of clothes folded neatly on his full size bed, some of which still had on the tags from the stores they were purchased. On top of the bundle was a yellow post it note with writing that resembled his mother’s handwriting. Will picked up the note and read it to himself. “I bought these clothes for a reason,” the note read. “Good to know she retained that passive aggressiveness from college,” Will said to himself.

Will took the bundle of clothes and placed them on the brown mahogany dresser nearby along with the CD player from his pockets. He then plopped down on the now empty bed and sighed as he looked at the ceiling and the slowly rotating ceiling fan. Some time later, Will looked to the left and reached towards the bedside table. He opened the top drawer and grabbed a composition notebook. It was old and it showed its age.

Will sat up on the side of the bed next to the table and opened the notebook to a specific page with no writing on it to pull out a photo that was in it. It was a worn out Polaroid photo; on the bottom white portion read the date the photo was taken, 6-12-1998, Will’s thirteenth birthday. The photo itself was of a younger Will standing next to a girl who was the same as he was when the photo was taken. The girl had a dark brown complexion and long, black hair that was wrapped in a ponytail. She had her hands placed around Will’s shoulders. They both were smiling in the photo although her smile was far more genuine than his.

 As Will continued to look at the photo, he began to hear a voice call out to him. “You haven’t forgotten have you? You haven’t forgotten our promise?” The voice asked Will. There was a familiar tone in the voice. To Will it sounded like the girl in the photo, but a bit older. “You haven’t forgotten our promise have you?” The voice asked again. Will didn’t answer; who could he possibly be talking to? The female’s voice kept repeating the question, becoming louder with each repetition. Will’s eyes became wider but they were still stuck on the photo. Small beads of sweat started to run down his face. He quickly put the photo back in the notebook, and tossed the notebook across the room, almost hitting the small television. He started breathing heavily, his eyes still as wide open as they were when he was looking at the photo and more sweat covers his face. Seconds later, the door to Will’s room bursts wide open.

“Hey!” DeMarcus said to Will. “Ma says come downstairs and eat.”

Will shifted his head to the right to respond to DeMarcus, “Yeah okay. I’ll be down in a second.”

DeMarcus gave Will a confused stare. He didn’t ask Will if he was alright. He slowly walked away from the room leaving the door open behind him. Will hopped up from his bed and left his room heading for the bathroom between the stairwell and his sister’s room. He turned on the sink and let the cold water run while he grabbed a hand towel from the rack above the toilet. He wiped off as much of the sweat from his face as he could; he didn’t want to invoke an interrogation of any kind from his family members. With the water still running, he washed his hands with the orange scented hand soap that was next to the sink. Finally, he shut off the sink, and dried his hands with the same hand towel he wiped his head with before. Will walked down the stairs to the kitchen. Halfway down, the voice of his father bellowed from the kitchen to the staircase, “You wash your hands, boy?” Continuing his descent down the stairs, Will answered, “yes sir.”

In what Will could only describe as a phenomenon on the same level as the Big Bang Theory, the entire Moon Family were sitting around the round glass dinner table in the middle of the kitchen and all at the same time. His mother, referred to by everyone as Liz, spent her days working as a specialist in a wellness clinic in Ingram Park’s medical center. after she received her Bachelor’s Degree in Nutrition. She would be home in the afternoon, but she’d normally be too exhausted to cook an actual dinner. But the rest of the family didn’t have a problem with that, not that any of them would say that to her directly; none of them were fans of her healthy cooking. Between July, when the family first moved to Ingram Park, and now, Will’s father, Anthony spent long hours at work as an assistant director of Information Technology at the Taylor Corporation Worldwide Headquarters downtown. The earliest he had came home on a work day was nine o’clock in the evening; the latest, two o’clock in the morning. Yet there he was, wearing the same semi casual apparel he was wearing when he dropped Will off from school, along with the employee badge attached to the lanyard around his neck. He was even home early enough to pick Will’s seven-year-old sister, Rosetta, up from the elementary school she started going to near the neighborhood. They were all sitting at the table, ready to eat as a family; the only thing missing was Will himself.

“Okay,” Liz said to the rest of the family. “Let’s say grace.” The family stood around the table, joining hands, and prayed to God to bless their meal. “Amen,” they said collectively as they sat down to eat. With the exception of Liz, the members of the Moon family inspected the contents of the plates in front of them. DeMarcus poked at the food with his fork, Rosetta tilted her head to the side to look at her plate, and Will just sat there and stared at his plate. “Um..what is this?” Anthony asked Liz trying his best not to upset her. Liz began to answer with a smile on her face and pride in her dish, “It’s a broccoli and cheese casserole, made with low-sodium mushroom soup, light mayonnaise, egg whites, organic broccoli, and fat free cheddar cheese.” She touted the ingredients as if she were reading them from the magazine she got the recipe from. Then, as if to justify the dish’s existence she concluded with, “it’s healthy.”

Minutes passed, and Liz’s plate was completely empty; the others plates remained untouched. Anthony, DeMarcus, Rosetta, and Will looked at each other wondering who would be the first among them to take the first bite. Liz noticed the four-way stare-down and decided to intervene. “You don’t like it, do you?” she asked the family. Nobody would answer, Anthony still didn’t want to upset her; the children stayed silent out of fear of punishment. “I get it,” Liz said calmly. “You’re all still used to the way we used to eat. The constant trips to fast food restaurants, the microwave dinners, the grease pits your grandma Irene called breakfast, and Soul Food Sundays at your grandma Josephine’s.”

Liz sprung up from her seat and walked to the refrigerator. She took a photo off of the freezer side. “But let me remind each of you what what these healthier alternatives can do.” She showed them the photo they’ve must’ve seen about a hundred times by now. It was of her standing in the kitchen of their previous house. For some reason he was holding a bottle of mustard in the photo. But the main draw of the photo is of the baby weight she was still carrying when the photo was taken. Admittedly, Liz had lost a great deal of weight between then and now and it was mostly due to her own healthy cooking. She was indeed a healthy looking thirty-five year old woman. The rest of the family began eating the casserole.

Liz sat back down in her chair and crossed her arms. “So, how was the first day of school?” she asked with enthusiasm, but to none of the kids in particular.

“We gotta learn how to multiply! And we gotta learn all the states!” Rosetta blurted out.

“Yeah?” Anthony asked in response. “How many states do you know?”

Rosetta answered, “um let’s see. There’s Alabama, Alaska, Arizona….” She would go on listing the names of the states in the same rhythm as the song she learned them from.

“That’s great, Rosetta,” Liz interrupted. “DeMarcus? How about you?”

DeMarcus answered with the utmost confidence, “Well let’s see. In first period, I got a phone number from this fine lookin’ girl. In second period, I got another one, and two more during lunch. Yeah I’d say today was a good day.”

“Uh huh,” Anthony replied. “And did you learn anything important today, boy?”

DeMarcus responded, “I learned that the girls here love a brutha with braids in their hair.”

“You better not let them girls get in the way of your grades,” Will’s dad said. “Let them slip if you want. I’ve been talking to some of the people that work under me and they told me about this all boys military school nearby that they sent their kids to. And I’ll send you too if you don’t act right.”

Meanwhile, Rosetta was still reciting the states, now to herself, “...Montana, Nebraska, Nevada….” Liz shifted her focus to Will now. This was the moment that Will feared, that he hoped would never happen, but knew in his heart would. “Well, Mr. Big High School Man. Tell us about your first day at Washington.” Will didn’t look up from the plate he was slowly pecking at to answer her. “It was alright,” he said quietly. “Alright? Just alright?” She asked. “Did you find your classes okay? Do you like them? Did you join any clubs? Did you make any friends? Did you even talk to anybody?” Will had his fill of constant questioning for the day, so he answered each of the questions as rapidly as they were asked. “Yes ma’am. Maybe. No ma’am. Not Yet. Yes but, not by choice.” Will finished the casserole on his plate. He rose up from his chair and placed his plate, silverware, and cup into the empty sink. “Where are you going? We’re still talking about your day here,” Liz said. “I got homework. Don’t wanna fall behind now. I don’t wanna end up in some military school.” Will responded, heading back upstairs.

Two hours and a few minutes passed after dinner. Will sat on his bed with an open history textbook turned to a random page beside him. He was more focused on what was being shown on the television than the text in the book however. A knock was heard coming from his door. This was a shock to Will considering that everyone would usual barge in when they needed him for something. Will turned the volume on the TV down with the remote in his hand. “Yes?” Will asked inviting the person knocking in.

It was his mother carrying a set of neatly folded clothes in one hand. Will noticed the clothes and asked, “can you set them on the dresser?” Liz responded with another question, “you’re going to hang these up in your closet right?” Will nodded, focusing back on the TV. “Yes ma’am.” She sat the clothes on the dresser next to the other bundle of clothes from earlier. “Why didn’t you put on any of the new clothes I bought you for school?” She asked sternly. “I don’t know,” he answered. “Just felt comfortable in this.”

“Is that the same hoodie from Salem?”

“One of them. It still fits.”

Liz let out a sigh and then sat down on the bed adjacent to Will. “Look, I know these last few months haven’t been easy, especially for you. A lot’s happened, and most of it you really can’t just get over and move on from. I know it’s hard to adjust for someone like you. But we’re not in the old neighborhood anymore, William. This is a new town and you’re going to a new school; this is a fresh start for you.” With his eyes still glued to the TV screen, Will rebutted, “So what? We’re in a new town; that’s great. That automatically means I’m supposed to forget the last few years? Like they didn’t even happen?” He paused briefly and then continued, “look, mom. I hated Salem as much as anyone else in the family, maybe even more. And believe me when I say, I’m grateful to be far away as possible from that hellhole, excuse my language. But I can’t just forget what happened, like it wasn’t some big deal.”

Liz didn’t say anything back immediately. She knew exactly what Will was referring to but she didn’t want to bring it up in conversation. “I know. But keeping to yourself isn’t going to alleviate the…” Will interrupts her. “Shh.” He pointed to the TV. “Triple H is wrestling Mankind for the belt.” He increases the volume on the TV but not by much. Liz got up from the bed and smiled.

“You and your wrestling. I’ll never understand it. I hear it’s all scripted anyway. Well don’t stay up too late. I don’t want you oversleeping and being late for school tomorrow.”

“What? I gotta go back there?” Will asked with a upbeat change in his somber tone of voice. “I thought I was just visiting.”
“I’m afraid you were sentenced to four years without parole,” Liz answered. “Good night, Will. Make sure you brush your teeth.” Liz proceeds to exit the room.

“Yes, ma’am. Good night.”

***

There’s a breeze wafting through the air. Patches of green grass covers the ground and a clear blue sky consumes the sky. There are a few clouds but not enough to cover the bright sun. In the distance there is a set of swings from a playground. One of the swings is empty, but the other is occupied by a child. The child seems to be about eight or nine years old and bears a resemblance to William. His hands grip the chains that suspend the seat and he looks down at the ground kicking each of his legs simultaneously. They cannot be seen, but there are other children playing around the younger looking Will, whose voices can be heard.

“Why do you hang out with him? He’s weird.”

“Yeah he never says anything.”

“Plus he sucks at basketball.”

“All he does is read those books. What a scrub.”

“Hey wait! Where you going? Man she’s as hopeless as he is. C’mon ya’ll let’s go somewhere else.”

The voices fade away, and a shadowy figure approaches the swing set. It isn’t clear who the figure is at first, but as it draws nearer, it begins to resemble a young girl, about the same age as the young Will. She sits on the empty swing next to him and smiles at him. The blue sky becomes white. Then the green grass becomes white. White consumes everything, including the two children and the swing set. There is no sound; save for a constant flat beep in a familiar pitch and tone that steadily increases in volume. It’s faint but between the beep another familiar voice calls out, “You haven’t forgotten have you? You haven’t forgotten our promise?”

“URGH!” Will screams out. His head springs from the pillows on his bed. Breathing heavily, he extended his hands toward the front of him to see the sweat on his palms. He hopped out of the bed and reached for the light switch on the wall next to the door. With a better sense of vision, Will walks to the dresser and stands in the middle of it, staring at his reflection at the mirror placed on top of it. After taking a few more short breaths, he looks behind him to the part of the floor near the TV where the notebook from earlier still sat. Will notices that the photo is barely sticking out of the notebook. Strangely enough, Will didn’t return the notebook to the dresser from where he got it from. Instead he places it in his backpack. For the remainder of the evening, he lied across his bed with his eyes wide open.