More Important Things
This is not what I had expected from my son. Not what I expected from family at all. Not from the little boy that tugged on my shirt sleeve, asking for me to tie his shoes. From the little boy who cried to me at night when he had nightmares. From my little baby boy who looked up with a warm, happy smile—so warm it melted any grudges I had on past nations, because none of that mattered at the moment. Nothing mattered but the boy in front of me. My boy. My son.
"I'm not your child anymore!" his words threw knives in my heart, ripping it apart. The cold rain stung my shoulders like acid as it fell into my hair and soaked my shirt through. "From now on, consider me independent!"
"I… I can't… I won't allow it!" I screamed as I lunged forward toward him and his mighty army. Mine had fallen a week prior.
Our weapons hit and clanged as we fought. As I fought for my boy. My weapon hit his much harder with all the anger building up inside me.
Why can't you just come back? What did I do wrong? I thought as tears escaped, mixing with the rain.
I hit his gun harder, not expecting it to fly from his grasps. It hit the icy mud with a thud and then all was silent to me. I didn't notice when his army yelled "Aim!" I didn't notice when their guns lifted. I only had my eyes locked on my little boy that was two centimeters taller than me now.
"Go on…" I cried, "Tell me this is all a joke… so I can take you home, Al…"
"Shoot me," the words tumbled from his lips with bravery, "I'm leaving here a hero or on the ground with the rest of my soldiers!"
The gun I had at his throat wavered before dropping down to the ground before I followed suit. Does he expect me to kill him? I thought as fresh tears dripped from my eyes. His army already started to cheer as they retreated. They'd won after all. It was only America left standing looking down at my pitiful figure. He reached a hand out before withdrawing it.
"What happened to you England?" he asked with sorrow lacing his words he'd chosen so carefully. "You used to be so…"
"GREAT!" it was his loud, annoying voice he carried now. "Then it's settled!"
All the countries started to file out of the meeting room. "England, you alright bro?" America asked, landing a hand on my shoulder. "You've been spacing out like sooooo much."
"I'm fine," I huffed and stood myself.
"Oh, you're comin' to my birthday party tonight right?" he asked, "It's gonna be ROCKIN' Like at the best club in all of New York City!"
"No, you git," I said coldly, "I have more important things in my life than you, you know." Then my cellphone rang.
"Alright bro, the invitation's still open!" and he walked out of the door.
I opened my cellphone, ignoring my wallpaper as I clicked answer. The wallpaper that was America when he was a little boy.
"Hello?" I said, ignoring the voice in the back of my head, still responding to my last spoken sentence.
Liar.
"Of course, I'm almost done with the manuscripts. They'll be in by tomorrow."