The Placeholder

Chapter 12

Someone opens the door for me a few hours later. There isn't a clock in the room, but I know it has been awhile because I can see the sky change colours from the window; can watch the sun reach the center point of the sky, only to leave it behind.

The door creaks in an odd suspension. I scramble to my feet as my father stands in the doorway.

"Did you find Timmy?" I demand.

There is no response from him. Only an eerie silence and no flicker of emotion from his face. Nothing to read, nothing to strain answers from.

"Did. You. Find. Timmy."

"Enough of this," my father spits acidly. "Your mother and I need to speak with you."

"Where is my brother? I told you he was kidn*pped-"

"He's been found," my father says flatly. "That is why we need to talk."

Relief sparks firecrackers in my veins.

"You did? He's been found? Dad, where is he? Is he ok?"

"He will be fine," he replies gruffly.

I feel a wave of confusion. If Timmy is safe, then why isn't Father cheerful? Where are the happy tears and gratitude towards the universe for sparing his only son?

"Come on," he urges. "Let's go."

A head peers around the corner. Melinda is there, hovering behind. Her eyes are terribly empathetic. She knows what has happened.

My heart drops to my stomach. "Is he dead?!"

"What?" my father says, astonished. "No, of course not! No one is dead, Rhoswen. You have such ghastly ideas sometimes."

He sounds sincere, but Melinda's unease—even to a child like me—is an obvious indicator that there is something severe I do not know about. That something is what I desperately need to find out.

But, Timmy is alive; I believe that much. And if he is safe, then I will do whatever I need to in order to see him in person.

"Okay," I cave. "Let's go talk with Mom."

Father takes me into the living room, leaving Melinda behind. I feel a twinge of disappointment that she couldn't join us. I trust what she will not say, but show.

My mother is already waiting for us; standing with her hands clasped behind her back.

"Mom," I run to her and wrap my arms around her waist. "Mom, where is Timmy?"

"Have a seat, Sweetie," She replies kindly. Her eyes are uncharacteristically soft. I trust her to give me the answers in due time, so I sit across from my parents—copying my mother's smooth expression and professional posture.

"Rhoswen, we have something very important to tell you. It's not going to be easy to hear, but it is necessary that we tell you. Your father and I cannot have you live a lie."

Disappointment weighs me down and tangles with the compounding confusion and frustration. What is my mother talking about? Why are they toying with me for so long? Where is my brother????

"I just want to see Timmy," I grunt, frowning. "Dad told me he was found and is safe, so I want to see him now before we talk more."

My mother leans forward and grasps my hands. Her eyes shadow and her bottom lip trembles ever so slightly.

"That's just the thing, Rhoswen, you can't see him."

Alarms blare in my skull. I look around wildly, hoping to somehow find Melinda so I can probe her transparency. Of course, she isn't here.

I whirl back to my parents. "Why can't I? I was told I could." Worry creeps into my stomach as a thought occurs to me. "Is Timmy in the hospital?"

My parents shoot each other knowing looks. I despise when adults do that. They communicate to each other so they can plot around us children.

"No," my father takes over.

I explode from my seat. "Then where is he?"

My father presses closed fists against his eyes. That isn't fair. He's isn't being dragged along. What right does he have to be so frustrated? Especially with his own mind games?

"Rhoswen," My mother says lowly. "Your brother isn't anywhere."

Insane laughter bubbles past my tongue. Are they really so desperate to lie, that they would come up with something so idiotic? Even my seven year old mind knows how ridiculous they sound!

"Why can't you just tell me the honest truth instead of riddles?"

"It's not a riddle, Rhoswen," My mother hardens. "It is the complete truth. Timmy doesn't exist."

For a moment, time erupts—and rotates into a whirlpool. Logic, reason, doubt, truth, lies—all meld into a shapeless, unidentifiable thing that simply can't be explained, and leaves me so discombobulated, that I can't speak. Only stutter, like the dumb child my parents think me to be.

The best I can do for myself is scowl. "What tomfoolery are you attempting? Is this a prank?"

"No," my father growls, beseeching. He shoots a scalding glare to my mother. "Look at what you've done, Cassandra. I told you we should have done this sooner. Our child can't even detect reality. How do you expect her to rule a country?"

My mother bristles. "Me? Take a look at your absence before you attack me! You have never put in the effort to spend time with your own daughter—which is a heavy contributer as to why she is lonely enough to create a false family member!"

My father and I shake simultaneously—for different reasons. My mother continues with a venomosity I have never heard from her before.

"You think you are so high and mighty because you think you are ending the war, but you're not. It is Rhoswen who will bring Verduschkir peace. Secretly, you are so intimidated by her stealing your thunder that you can't even lift a finger to spend time with her. Your own child!"

Father's face flushes profusely. "That is not true! I have a lot on my plate!"

My mother snorts. "Oh, please, Leonard. I take on half of our royal duties and the entirety of parenting. I may as well be a single mother. Mabel and Melinda are more active in her life than you are."

I cover my hands over my ears and rock back and forth to block out the battle. I lose either way. The truth is trying to leech onto my soul and obliterate me.

My father stands. "You asked me to come and help with Rhoswen. I did that for you, as I do many things for you. But, if you're going disregard my hard work and humiliate me in front of our daughter, then you can handle this as you claim. Like a single mother."

My mother calmly bores into my father—with Ray guns for eyes.

"I will," she retorts. "Gladly."

My father storms out of the room, slamming the door so hard that the walls vibrate.

My mother pulls me into her lap, stroking my hair to sooth me.

"Shhh, it's alright, Rhoswen, the fight is over."

I don't realize I am crying until I pull my hands away from my face. They are drenched in my tears.

"Is it true? Am I crazy?"

"No, you are not crazy. Many kids create imaginary friends, especially when they don't have real ones to play with."

I sniffle. "I thought Timmy was real."

My mother stares off into space thoughtfully. "In a way, I suppose he is real."

I gaze up to her hopefully.

My mother taps on my chest. "He lives in here—inside of you."

I rub my eyes angrily. "That's not the same thing."

"I know, Rhoswen. I understand."

"Mom, if Timmy is imaginary, then why would I scare myself by thinking he had been kidn*pped?"

"With age, our minds grow as well as our bodies. Somewhere in your subconscious, you have learned that you created something that only exists in your head. That part of your brain created a scenario to set your mind at ease."

My mind doesn't feel at ease. It feels shattered.

I open my mouth to speak, but Mother cuts me off.

"You need to socialize with other children is all. That's why, very soon, you are going to have a new friend to play with. A real person who is the exact same age as you."

The good news is enough to take away some of the loss; replacing a chunk of it with breathtaking hope.

"I'm going to have a friend? When?"

"Sometime this month, Rhoswen. As soon as possible."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

My mother lifts me from her lap and sets me on the ground. She then grabs my hand.

"Now, how about you and I do a puzzle together?"

I nod eagerly, squeezing her hand and allowing her to take me away.

A part of me is still wandering in the snow. Searching frantically for Timmy, as he whispers me goodbye.