The sun came through the window, lighting up the whole room. William pulled the blanket over his head, wishing for just a few more minutes of sleep. He had been having a good dream, one in which he and his father Gregory were walking down the beach together. It was a pleasant memory, the kind that makes waking up unbearable.
"Will, you need to get up," his mother called from the hallway, "it's already noon and you're still in bed. Save your rest for tomorrow, I need you to help me run errands today."
Tomorrow was William's eleventh birthday, but he didn't exactly see what was so special about it. It wasn't like he was turning thirteen, the big number for boys. With a groan, William dragged himself out of bed and slumped down the stairs to the kitchen.
"You slept through the whole morning, so I figured I'd make you lunch. Paninis sound good?"
"Sure thing, mom," William said as he took the chair next to the empty one where his father used to sit. It's been four years since his father was lost to brain cancer, but he still imagines him sitting there, smiling with a coffee and newspaper in each hand. His father always gave him the comic section, even when he couldn't read the words. He liked that. He missed it. William looked up from the chair to see his mother staring out the window by the sink, motionless and blank.
"You alright, mom?" he asked.
She snapped out of whatever it was and smiled.
"Of course, sweetie. I was just thinking about how exciting tomorrow is going to be."
William rolled his eyes.
"I don't see why, I'm only turning eleven. I mean, last year was cool because I was finally a preteen. But until I'm thirteen, what's the point? It's not like I have any friends to celebrate with, I'm homeschooled."
His mother set both their Paninis down and took her usual seat across from him.
"Oh, you never know. Maybe this year will be exciting…" Her smile seemed to fade, as if she was unsure whether she believed her own statement.
"Anyway," she continued, "finish your lunch. I need you to run to the post office to drop off these letters while I head to the store and get some things for tomorrow."
William finished quickly. He looked forward to taking his bike to the post office, because that meant he could take the long way back along the shore. Having lived in Pensacola, Florida his entire life, William had taken a liking to the beach. He dropped off the letters and went on his way. When he reached the water, William set his bike down and sat on the sand, taking in the breeze and the sound of the waves crashing. It was peaceful, and just sitting there, he could almost feel the water moving in front of him, as well as the birds and the fish. It was here, out in nature, that William actually felt a part of something bigger. He wasn't alone here, like at home. It was as if the world was speaking to him, and he understood it.
"Well of course you understand us, it's not like we're all that different. And no, you're not alone, my friend."
William jumped up, shocked to hear another voice. He looked around, to find nothing but the trees and the sand and the water.
He hurried home, not sure what just occurred. When he reached home, the sun had already begun setting.
"William David McAdams, what on earth are you doing arriving so late? I've been worried to death about you!" His mother rushed to him and held him tight, almost too tight.
"Mom, I'm fine, I just took a detour to the beach again."
She looked at him with stern eyes.
"Well next time just let me know ahead of time. A note on the fridge, or something. You know how much I worry about you…."
"I know, mom. I'm sorry." William headed upstairs to his room and lied in bed, still contemplating the voice at the beach. He'd probably find out tomorrow. Maybe this birthday would be different.