Chapter 9
We had a string of rainy days where stayed inside. John worked in the mines. I helped some, but I was terribly bored. I discovered I could make armor stands pose. John was amused and he experimented with the mechanism for a moment, before he had to attend to dinner.
“When’s your birthday?” I asked.
“I don’t celebrate it,” John said.
“Oh,” I said. I was not happy.
“You okay?” John asked.
I didn’t answer. He brought fish to the table. Fish and bread. I picked some fish from the bone.
“Want to play chess while we eat?” John asked.
He had made me a really cool chess board, emerald and diorite pieces. I frowned. “You always win.”
“I have played more games to you,” John said. “You know the rules. You just need experience. Every time you lose, you learn something. You will one day be better player than I am. I already see that coming.”
I shrugged.
“What’s going on?” John asked.
“Mom is a better cook than you,” I said.
“Yeah, she is,” John said.
“May I be excused?” I asked. “When we finish,” John said.
“I am done,” I said.
John nodded. “Good. You can talk to me while I finish. Tell me something funny.”
“I am not feeling it,” I said.
“If it clears up tomorrow, we should go tame another horse. We can go riding together,” John said.
“Whatever,” I said.
John put his fork down. He drank some milk. He wiped his mouth and hands and put his hands in his lap. He sighed, and looked out the window. I sat there, with my head in my hands. Moping is probably the right word for my gesture.
“Did you ever want to do something, but you just couldn’t figure out how to do it?” John asked.
I wasn’t going to fall for it. He has a way of tricking you into talking it out.
“Sometimes, you could even tell a person exactly what you wanted, but it still just didn’t work out, because the other people involved were just determined to do it there way, and not listen to you,” John said.
I stared at the fish in front of me. I wonder if I could build an aquarium.
“I hate clowns,” John said. I looked up. “No, like I really hate clowns. I’ve hated them all my life. They like creep me out. They’re scary. I can’t stand clowns.” I am not sure where this was going, but I was listening. “Every year, for Christmas and my birthday, I would be gifted clowns. Every year, I would say thank you, but I don’t like clowns. I offered alternatives. Legos. Can’t go wrong with that. Anything Trek related. Books. Clothes. Hell, I would be happy with just plain, white socks. But, what I got were clowns. After a while, I stopped saying thank you. I was told I was ungrateful. I didn’t want to open presents. I didn’t want to see a clown face peering out at me. I asked that no one buy me gifts. I was punished. I was told I was to collect things, and clowns was the thing. All kinds of clowns. Little plastic ones. Ceramic ones. Pictures, stuffed ones, knickknacks, Christmas ornaments, clothes with clowns on it… So, I moved out. Clowns followed me. They showed up on my doorstep. I started re-gifting them. And one day, I took every single clown in my apartment to good will, some of them likely worth hundreds of dollars, and just dropped them off. One day my grandmother was visiting and she asked where were all the clowns. I told her I gave them away. She left and never spoke to me again. What was more interesting was, I actually didn’t care. I was finally free of the clowns.”
I realized John was watching me in the reflection of the window. He shifted his eyes to mine.
“You don’t celebrate your birthday because you don’t like clowns?” I asked.
“Clowns and football. I think what bothered me the most is that I felt like an alien with my family. They didn’t understand me. I didn’t want to watch sports. I hated clowns. I spent much of my time in my room, reading,” John said. “Do you ever feel like people don’t listen to you?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “I wanted to give you something.”
“Oh?” John said. “Does it have to be my birthday to do something nice for me?”
“Sort of,” I said.
“So, how about this. You and I can celebrate my birthday, any time you want,” John said.
“Really?”
“Yep. And what a coincidence,” John said, looking at his sleeve where the tech would light up a clock and date if we were in the real world. “That’s today.”
“Really?!” I asked.
“You want to color together?”
I went to my chest and brought back a present. The box was made of paper and bamboo. He looked at it dubiously.
“It’s not a clown, is it?” John asked.
“No,” I said. “Open it.”
John opened it. Inside the box was a cake.
“Wow,” John said.
“I made it myself,” I said.
“That’s surprisingly fantastic,” John said. He cleared away the fish and milk and sat the cake on the table. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything,” I said.
“I am a little tired of eating fish,” John said. “Oh, me, too,” I said.
John pulled me into him and hugged me. “I love you. Thank you so much for being a part of my life. Every day is my birthday because you are in it.”
I sat down. John served me a piece and then himself a piece. We both tried it at the same time. We both raised an eyebrow of surprise as if we were looking in a mirror. It was really good cake. We dug into it like we never had any sweets before. It would have been perfect except for the crashing sound. Chester looked at the door that led to the other room and growled.
John and I both stood up. Something was definitely in the other room.
“I hope it’s not a clown,” I said.
“Not funny,” John said.
“You should put your armor on,” I said.
John waved that off and pulled out his diamond sword. I pulled out an iron sword. “Want to trade swords?” I asked.
“You gave this to me,” John said.
“Yeah, but it does more damage. And you always die. I should hold on to it for you,” I said.
“I am not going to die,” John said.
“You could at least hold my shield,” I said.
“I don’t need a shield. I am not going to die,” John said.
“What if it’s a creeper?” I asked.
“Hit it, back off, hit again,” John said. “What if…”
John motioned me to silence. He and I traded swords. We counted to three and opened the two doors leading into the great hall. A giant, jello cube stared menacingly at us. It jumped for the door, but hit the threshold and was thrown back. I screamed and ran away. John looked at me. Chester barked from the safety of the other side of the bed. The jello kept bouncing but was thwarted by a doorway that was too small for it to pass.
“Come back here,” John said. “It’s huge,” I said.
“It is,” John agreed. “You and I got this.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“I don’t know. A slime?”
“How did it get in here?!” I asked.
“I don’t know,” John said. “But we’re going to deal with it, together.”
“We don’t even know if swords will hurt it,” I said.
“One way to find out,” John said.
John lunged at it with a sword. In one fell swoop, John severed the beast in half. It became two entities and both charged him. He was forced to defend himself. Each hit divided the creature further. He cursed and asked me to help. Then he was gone. Chester and I were forced to defend ourselves. John re-spawned on the bed just in time to see me finishing off the last of the smaller cubes. I looked crossly at him.
“I told you to put on your armor!” I said.
“Good work,” John said. He picked up a sticky ball. “I wish we had a microscope.” He took it to the work bench, “2121, I guess..” He examined it in the toolbox light. “Ah, new menu. Sticky pistons. Rope. A lead! Nice. We’re going to need more of this goo.”
I sighed and went to bed. “We should sleep.” John put stuff away and retired to his bed. “Thank you cake,” John said.
“Thank you mom,” I said.
“Yeah, thank you mom,” John agreed.
“Your mom or my mom?” I asked.
“How about all moms?” John asked.
“Yeah, all moms,” I agreed.
“Thank you mom for teaching me to cook better than dad, or we’d starve.”
“Ha ha ha,” John said. “Who taught you to cook marshmallows?”
“Who taught me to burn marshmallows?” I asked.
“They weren’t burned,” John argued.
“They were pretty black,” I said.
“Pretty is eatable,” John said.