By Larry Molina
CRASH!
“I don’t want to die Daddy, please don’t let me die!”
“Oh hush now Robert, it’s only thunder, you can’t die from thunder. Lightening on the other hand, that’s something to be weary of.” Mr. Holden told his son with a reassuring voice as he scooped him up and carried him back to his own bed.
“You have to watch out for lightening though Robbie. I never want you to be outside playing whenever there is lightening, even if there is no rain it can still strike you and hurt you really bad, ok champ?” Mr. Holden gingerly placed his little bundle of warmth back into his bed.
“You’re getting mighty big for this bed my boy! Perhaps it’s time to get you a “big boy” bed, whatta say? Would you sleep better in a “big boy” bed?”
This night was no different than most other nights in the Holden household. Even despite the legitimacy of the thunderstorm causing fear in the young child, Robert had been popping into his parent’s room in the dead of night for weeks with an excuse every time. Whether it was the need to urinate, a bad dream, spooks in the closet or something under the bed, it never failed the Mr. Holden would have to perform a swift room check for all the spooky spooks that plagued poor Robert. In all honesty, the Holdens were at their wit’s end with the boy, even his nightlight could not provide comfort. Perhaps a new “big boy” bed might encourage his son to reach maturity in finding that it was his responsibility to be a “big boy” and finally seep an entire night in his own room.
As fate would have it, the very next day on his way to work, Mr. Holden saw a sign for an estate sale advertising “children’s toys and furniture”.
“Worth a peek,” Mr. Holden said to himself. He often thought that a coincidence is of no coincidence at all and in actuality the work of something more.
“You can open your eyes now, Robbie.”
The boy squealed with delight as he saw the new bunk beds in his room.
“They’re amazing Dad! You’re the best!” He quickly climbed to the top bunk and tucked himself in.
“Hold on now Champ, you have to finish dinner and take a bath first.” Mr. Holden was thrilled at his son’s enthusiasm. Finally he could sleep without intrusion.
“This is a ‘big boy’ bed, and is only for ‘big boys’ Robbie, understand? Being a ‘big boy’ means you will have to sleep in here all night, ok?”
“Of course I will Dad! Nothing can reach me up here anyway!”
“Good night son.”
“Night Dad.”
CRASH!
“Daaaaad!”
“Still?” The groggy eyed Mr. Holden rose from his slumber. He thought he’d better go check just in case Robbie fell from the top bunk. Maybe they were not such a good idea after all.
Sure enough young Robert was on the floor looking frightened.
“Daddy! I was asleep like a ‘big boy’ on the top and someone pushed me out!” He then began to cry. “He said I shouldn’t be up here and pushed me!”
“Oh Rob, you were probably just having a bad dream again and rolled out on accident. It’s ok. Just sleep in the bottom bed from now on just to be safe, ok?”
Returning to his room, Mr. Holden was restless. It was practically time for him to wake up for work anyway and the few hours of sleep he had left before the alarm were meaningless. Deciding that he would instead make a big breakfast in celebration for Robert’s new accomplishment of sleeping alone, Mr. Holden strolled downstairs to the kitchen. He brewed coffee and picked up the previous day’s paper. Scanning his eyes over the various reports a photograph captured his attention. It was the house from the estate sale. Intrigued he began to read the article which was not in regards to the sale but rather bore a more eye opening tale of dismay. The family from the home had experienced the loss of their only son whom had fallen from his top bunk and broken his neck.
Mr. Holden’s heart shot ice water through his veins at the realization of the origin of his purchase only to be stopped by the CRASH from Robert’s room.
He raced upstairs shouting, “ROBBIE!” Opening the door violently he gazed across the boy’s room through the nightlight’s glow. It was not in disarray, and in fact up in the top bunk, bundled and asleep, was little Robert.
“Oh Robbie,” said the winded Mr. Holden. “What did I tell you about sleeping up here?” He scooped the bundle of blankets and boy into his arms.
“What do you mean father? I’m still down here” cooed Robbie from the bottom bunk…..