On my day off from work, I was busily tidying up the house. All of a sudden, my friend called me up and declared, quite literally, that she and her son were on their way over. No matter how much I tried to explain that I was in the middle of cleaning, it was as if she hadnt heard a word.
Ten minutes later, they materialised at my doorstep. I wasn’t exactly thrilled to see little Oliver, since he was notorious for his wild energy.
We sat in the kitchen, sipping coffee, while my friends son zoned in on cartoons. Mere minutes trickled by before a terrible, echoing crash rang out. I dashed in and found my aquarium shattered, its glass shimmering like ice, and fish scattered in an odd dance across the rug as water spilled into every corner, seeping into places I didnt know existed.
My friend bolted towards Oliver to check if he was alright. I snatched up a cloth, frantically trying to sop up the flood, fearing it might rain down on the neighbours below. After the cleaning storm passed, she promptly announced their departure.
Why dont you help me carry the rug to the laundrette? I asked.
No, Olivers terribly frightenedI need to calm him, she replied, absently smoothing his hair.
I asked Oliver why hed broken the aquarium. He said a paper aeroplane had flown in, so he went after it. The strangest part was, at first glance, it hadnt looked like paper at all. Oliver pointed at the cupboard, claiming hed made it from something in there. Turned out, hed fashioned the plane from my marriage certificate.
Dont worry, you can always get a duplicate, my friend insisted breezily.
Yes, of course, why fret? Ill buy a new aquarium, order a duplicate certificate, and pay for repairs to my neighbours ceiling. On top of everything, my friend blamed meit was my fault for putting it somewhere visible.
After my guests faded away, I drifted to the neighbour downstairs to ensure there was no watery mischief. I finished cleaning and floated into bed, longing for sleeps soft arms. Then, as night dripped slowly by, my friend sent a message: Apparently, I owed her money. She said Oliver was so shaken theyd visited a psychologist, and she wanted compensation. I didnt replymy fingers seemed to vanishand instead, I quietly blocked the number, as if erasing it from a dream.
