Seth
Chapter 1: Sad

“And what are you today, my treasure?”

“I’m sad.”

“Now what do you have to be sad about, hmm?” The woman reached out and adjusted the collar of the boy’s jacket, the one that was his favorite and which he wore anytime he went out exploring.

Eyes as blue and as wide as the sky crinkled up in amusement as the boy looked up at his mother through the bangs of his hair that always seemed to get in the way.

She could see the corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. It was an old game to them, this ritual that the two of them took part in at the start of each day. “I’m not sad, I’m S.A.D: Seth Allan Daniels, the luckiest boy in the world.”

“And why are you the luckiest boy in the world?”

“Because I have you for a mom.”

The woman straightened, her arms folded as if deep in thought. “Well, if you are the luckiest boy in the world because I’m your mom, then that makes me lucky too because you’re my son.”

For a moment they stood there staring at each other with the sunlight streaming in the stained glass window above the front door. It was one of those magic moments that played out continually in her dreams, even if there had been too few of them in days past. It had become a competition to try to outstare the other, and neither was willing to shatter the moment by being the first to laugh.

In those days the house had been filled with laughter and light, light and laughter, the two a twin compliment to the other, just like she and her son were to each other.

On this particular day, the one that was both exquisite and excruciating, Seth had been the first to give in. In an instant his expression went from serious to delighted, and the smile that had been tugging at the corners of his mouth fully emerged. She felt her own face split into a grin, and as they stood there in the entranceway, their laughter echoed throughout the house.

Whenever Seth laughed the apples of his cheeks gave him an almost cherubic appearance, which she had always considered appropriate.

Seth had been a miracle of sorts.

For years she and Gerald had tried to conceive only to be met with disappointment and, all too often, one too many losses.

Their son Seth—Seth Allen Daniels—was her treasure, her child, her entire world.

As the laughter gave way to giggles, the two stood in the foyer of the living room that always seemed to be filled with light no matter the time of day or the season. That may have been due to its western exposure as much as it’s many windows, but for her it seemed that whenever she thought about or dreamed of her son, there was always light.

The house was dark now, closed off from the outside world, the curtains drawn to shut out the light that always reminded her of Seth. It seemed more a tomb than a home, a monument to a lost child and a life that had been tragically cut short. If she had only done one thing—one simple thing differently that day, perhaps events wouldn’t have unfolded like they did. Or perhaps, as friends and family kept reassuring her, there was nothing anyone could have done, and what happened was simply unfortunate.

That was the word they kept using, “unfortunate,” as if somehow the human players in this tragedy were entirely at the whim of some force outside their control.

Gerald hadn’t seen it that way. Gerald had grown sullen and withdrawn from everyone until it seemed he was little more than a ghost haunting the halls of the place they had once called home. And then one day he had left. There had been no goodbye, no ultimatums or promises to keep in touch, nothing.

“Probably just as well. I never liked him anyway.”

Her family had surrounded her, hovering nearby just in case it all became too much, but it had been unnecessary. For the first time in months she felt as if she could finally grieve in her own home without Gerald’s stinging silence or accusatory gazes poisoning the very air. Her waking thoughts were consumed with guilt, but when she slept she felt a certain peace. Her dreams were filled with the memory of Seth, and now all the happy times could replay over and over in her mind whenever she chose.

The woman stirred suddenly in sleep.

She squeezed her eyes tight, refusing to wake, but she knew it was useless. The dream faded and began to break apart a piece at a time until the smiling face of her son gradually fell away in a drift of ashen flakes.

She was aware of the sounds of the night and of the empty house before she opened her eyes, each one familiar and devoid of fear or mystery to her senses. The rusty chains of the porch swing lent their discordant melody to the symphony being played out by the night birds calling to one another and the sighing of the wind in the trees. From somewhere in the living room the floorboards creaked and popped as the house settled and cooled from the heat of the day.

The faint scent still clinging to the pillow and of the comforter decorated with rocket ships and shooting stars filled her nostrils and caused the ache around her heart to tighten unbearably. She sat up slowly, shivering in the early fall chill that filled the house, and as her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, she could make out the pale utilitarian form of the telescope near the window, its lens perpetually trained towards the sky. The plastic stars which decorated the walls and ceilings had long since gone dark, and on the desk set against the far wall, she could just make out the indistinct shapes of the various fossils, geodes, and other things Seth had picked up while out exploring.

Her eyes instinctively shied away from the empty spot in the series of specimens, which had been neatly lined up according to size.

“If you’d just gone with him, then—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, or—!” Or what? She couldn’t remember now, which was just as well. Best to put such painful memories behind you and try to move on.

So why are you sleeping in your son’s room when you know he’s gone and is never coming back? Her conscience teased.

Because I’m lonely.

She slowly swept the long waves of hair away from her face and then glanced down at the rumpled mess of the bed. She slowly and lovingly ran her hand over the pillow, smoothing it in place. She swung her legs over the edge and set about straightening the sheets and comforter just as they’d been before. The faint scent of the sheets clung to her, but if she kept this up, it too would eventually fade away forever. It would be like all the other things in this room: cold, sterile, alien in their familiarity, all of which really should have been packed up and given away months ago. Only she could no more bear to do this than she could bear to visit the plot of earth that her son lay buried in. To do that would mean that he was truly gone, shut away forever and existing only in memory, a ghost.

The stars were beginning to fade as the dawn approached, their twinkling faint yet still brilliant, like a sprinkling of diamonds across the sky. She could hear a faint lowing out in the pasture where her few remaining cows were stirring, no doubt moving as a single unit towards the old water tank as they prepared to start their day.

“And what are you today, my treasure?” She asked the silent room. The floor was cold under her feet as she watched the horizon shift from a deep, fathomless blue to a dusky violet. Soon the colors would shift from violet to coral to a riot of oranges and golds. The start of another day.

The silence gave back nothing.

She sighed, her thin shoulders slumped in defeat. The cotton shirt and legging she wore were practically hanging off of her.

“You keep sleeping so much and not eating enough, it will cost you in the long run.” Doc Hutchins, or Hutch to his closest friends, had looked disapprovingly at her over the rim of his glasses. She had come into his office after suffering a bout of weakness and dizzy spells, all of which he attributed to stress and poor diet.

“Now, I can fix your body with no problem and within reason, but being healthy requires the mind to do its part. If you need someone to talk to about…well, about anything, I could recommend someone—”

“That won’t be necessary. I just need time to grieve, to process….” She could feel herself beginning to shake and had to grip the edge of the exam table for balance. She knew that Hutch meant well, both as her doctor and as a friend, but she just couldn’t see herself laying out her grief to a complete stranger who couldn’t possibly understand what she was going through. Unless this “someone” had suffered a similar loss, then all those fancy degrees ultimately meant nothing.

She had left the office promising to call him if things got worse, but she couldn’t bring herself to insult his intelligence by promising to take him up on his offer.

That had been five months ago. At last count, she had dropped nearly twenty-five pounds and was averaging nearly eleven hours of sleep a day.

“And what are you today, my treasure?”

“I’m sad,” she said as she adjusted the curtains. They were coated with dust, shameful. “I miss you, Seth.” I know that you are gone and can never return to me, but if I keep on like this any longer, I’ll eventually come to you….

At just that moment a loud boom rent the air, causing the window to rattle in its frame. Adrenaline immediately flooded her system as awareness swept the last of the fatigue away. From up above she could hear the limbs of the ancient oak tree tremble as its massive arms raked frantically against the top of the house. The cows began to bellow in shear terror, and as she gazed wide-eyed at the wide expanse of lawn bordered by trees, a flaming tail of light streaked over the house and out towards the back forty.

Light and noise filled the air as the fireball left a brilliant after image in the night sky, and all around her the house trembled and shook. Small objects clattered and tumbled as they fell from their shelves onto the floor, and a sound like a train barreling off course filled her ears. A violent tremor followed the path of the fireball, and she could feel it in the air around her as it thrummed throughout her veins and limbs.

With a final rumble the noise and vibrations ceased, and all around her lay a silence unlike any she had ever experienced before. Even the frightened lowing of the cows had stopped, as if they too stood struck dumb and in awe. That had been a meteor no doubt, and it had come dangerously close to striking not only her property, but the house.

Seth would have loved all of the noise and excitement and would have wanted to rush outside, flashlight and jacket in hand, to search for the crash site.

“If you’d just gone with him, then—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, or—!”

Or Seth would still be alive today.

She let her breath out slowly. Whether she wanted to admit it to herself or anyone who would listen, there was a truth and simplicity to that statement.

Seth had died from a fall—“misadventure” the coroner had ruled—when he had lost his footing and tumbled down an embankment, breaking his neck instantly. When they had finally found him hours later, he was already cold. He had been wearing his favorite jacket and the flashlight was found lying a few yards from his body. His pockets had been empty save for one specimen that he had collected that final afternoon, a piece of a rock that was dark, smooth, and oddly dense. A fragment of a meteor, quite rare to replace, someone had told her.

She couldn’t remember who, only that she had taken that fragment and flung it as far away from the house as she could. It lay somewhere amid the cow pasture or edge of the woods, concealed amid the foliage and debris that littered the forest floor, awaiting the next person to discover it.

The blank spot amid his prized collection bore mute witness to the guilt she had tried so hard to conceal from everyone, but now it veritably screamed for attention.

Seth would have loved to see that meteor burning its way across the night sky. Discovering a piece of it, well…that would complete his collection now, wouldn’t it? It would replace the piece he had retrieved right before his death and which she had cast away, as if it had caused his death and she was somehow blameless.

“If you’d just gone with him, then—”

The sky was now a pale violet and the birds which nested in the oak tree were beginning to stir. She found herself moving in the direction of the living room without being aware of coming to a decision. Her worn work boots and jacket were right where she had left them just inside the front door, and she put them on without turning on the light. After checking her pockets to make sure that her phone, keys, and flashlight were in it, she unlocked the door and stepped out into the early morning. A faint mist blanketed the lawn and gave the landscape an ethereal, unearthly cast to it.

The meteor had been traveling towards the back of her property, or “back forty” as she and Gerald had referred to it. Aside from a small herd of cows, there really wasn’t much out there, although the property lay along the border of a wooded area. This had been Seth’s favorite place to go rock hounding, and the dry riverbed had never failed to yield its fair share of fossils and other specimens.

She checked the time display on her phone. 6:03 a.m. She had gone to bed last night just after eight p.m., when exhausted and needing the sweet release that sleep brought, she had made her way to Seth’s room. When she had lain her head down on the pillow, she had expected the usual dreams of her son that would see her through the next series of hours that had become her life. There had been nothing, not even the slightest indication that anything out of the ordinary would occur or help her distinguish one day from the next.

And then the meteor had arrived, seemingly out of nowhere, at just the moment when she had been thinking of Seth and her own fragile state of health. She wasn’t a big believer in signs or portents, yet if nothing else, the meteor’s flight path directly over her house was at the very least unusual and rare.

She squared her shoulders and clicked on the flashlight. “Alright then. Let’s go out there and see if we can’t replace that meteor.”