The Last Mystery Box Says No Chapter 09

The Last Mystery Box Says No Chapter 09

Five years later.

Spring came early in Honolulu, the bougainvillea blooming full across the wall of the balcony.

Sabrina sat in a wicker chair, a book barely a few pages in resting on her lap.

The breeze moved past. Her eyes were closed, everything quiet.

Small footsteps sounded behind her.

“Mom, look!”

A boy, a little over three, ran up stumbling, holding out a drawing scrawled in crayon.

“What’s this?”

“It’s Mommy!”

She smiled, took the drawing.

Next to the lopsided circle, he’d drawn a smaller one.

“Who’s this little one?”

“That’s my sister!”

She froze for a moment.

Callum came out of the kitchen carrying a fruit plate, heard the words, and his steps paused.

The boy tilted his face up, said seriously, “Dad says I have a sister. She lives up in the sky, and when Mommy misses her, she looks at the stars.”

Sabrina bent down and kissed his forehead.

“That’s right. She lives up in the sky.”

Her eyes reddened, but the corners of her mouth stayed lifted.

Callum walked over, said nothing, just set the fruit plate beside her and sat down.

Her account held more money than she could spend in ten lifetimes.

Her closet overflowed with dresses he’d bought, more shoes in the rack than she could ever wear through.

Once she’d told him it was too much, He’d said it still wasn’t enough.

“You deserve every good thing there is.”

Weekend, the mall.

She held her son’s hand, taking him shoe shopping.

The three–and–a–half–year–old insisted on picking thern out himself, crouched in front of the shelf deliberating forever.

Callum went to pay. She stood off to the side, waiting.

At the edge of her vision, someone stopped walking.

She turned. Weston stood a few yards away.

He’d gotten far too thin, his suit hanging loose on his frame, dark circles under his eyes.

He saw her, his body went rigid.

Then his gaze dropped to the little boy beside her.

The boy felt the stranger’s eyes on him and shrank back behind her, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

“Mommy.”

The word landed in Weston’s ears, his throat working hard.

Callum walked over carrying a bag, glanced at Weston once, no extra expression on his face.

He bent down, picked up the boy, one hand resting on Sabrina’s shoulder.

Weston’s eyes fixed on that hand.

That spot… it used to be his.

He opened his mouth. Not a single word came out in the end.

He clenched his fist, turned, and walked away, his steps slow.

In the car, he started the engine but didn’t drive off.

He pulled a slip of paper from his suit pocket.

Crumpled, its edges worn soft from handling.

$9.90.

Five years ago, he’d fished it out of the trash can she’d thrown it into, piece by piece.

The rest had shredded apart.

This was the only one that had stayed mostly whole.

He spread it flat on the steering wheel, thumb tracing over those two numbers, over and over.

Sunlight was good outside the window.

She walked out of the mail, the boy riding on Callum’s stroulders, laughing loudly.

Weston watched her figure grow smaller in the distance, the slip of paper clutched tight in his hand.

Nine dollars and ninety cents.

The most expensive thing he’d ever known in this life.

He couldn’t afford it anymore.

THE END