Indwelling
Grendel
She had just placed the baby in the Pack N' Play when she let her mind wander. She just caught the little spitfire running for the closet—again. She had picked her up—again—scolded her, kissed her, put her down again for the sixth time that day, let alone how many plus times since the box arrived. Grendel wiped her brow as she slouched onto the sofa. Her warm chocolate eyes watched as the two year old settled in for a nap.
The TV was running softly flicking its blue light across the coffee table, down the hall where she knew the other child had locked himself in his room. A year and a half and not a sound. A year and a half and no smile, no laughter. Grendel rested her head against a fist as she pondered him, wished for him, spoke out of habit a prayer over his voice and recovery.
"He had begun to soften, Lord. And now since my husband's decision to bring your Arc into this house, it's like all that work has been reversed and erased. What are we to do?"
It had been over a month since its arrival and eventually they adjusted to the addition to their family. Small changes made the watch over the object if not comfortable then most definitely workable. She bought new linens, new towels, new supplies so no one needed to venture to the closet to find them, attempt to reach around it to get them. Nearly everyone avoided that section of the hall all together. Even her husband had gotten to the point that, except for his early morning shower and his evening adventure to his throne before bed, he avoided the area like a plague.
Only the boy had changed, grown colder, stayed in his room more often after school, during the holidays. And the girl? Grendel eyed her.
"I am thankful for them," she prayed and then her thoughts shifted. Her hand absently moved to her stomach.
Her eyes shifted to the hall. Her hand covered her mouth. Her feet followed her thoughts until they stopped just in front of the door with her hand hovering over the knob. It stilled, froze and then dropped sneaking into the front pocket of her jeans. For a moment, Grendel listened for movement at her son's door, at the front door for her husband. When none came, her gaze returned to the closet.
"You know, this is probably the closest a woman has ever gotten to your Arc. They say your presence surrounds it. I wonder if you are hearing me now, if you are watching? You spent a month with our family. You've seen how we've made do with the two you've given us, but sometimes we are at a loss, Obed and I. George hasn't opened up. He refuses to speak. Help us love him anyway, to love both of them. I can see the longing in Obed's eyes. He wants a family so much. Please teach us how to heal him, Lord. Teach us how to—"
A sound startled her, interrupted her prayer. Immediately, she turned. Immediately, she moved towards the living room slightly afraid. She turned the corner… then stopped… and saw… and sighed heavily.
- Calla