Not Home Alone

Not Home Alone

Melanie Strait held a cold cloth to her forehead and was about to take a painkiller for her migraine. The phone shrilled. She hollered downstairs, wincing from the pain as she did so.

“Tell them I’m not here.”

Her son Thom picked up the phone.

“Strait residence.”

“She’s not here at the moment, may I take a message?”

“Stanton Talbot, 888-393-5026" his mom heard him say as he scribbled.

“No, I’m not alone.”

“If you’re so worried, you can talk to her.” Melanie felt panic rising.

“Who is this?” she heard her son say in a convincing female voice.

“The Straits trust me to look after their son. Which means I give no information to strangers.”

Melanie smiled. Thom had always been a fine mimic and he certainly sounded like their regular babysitter, Mandy. There were several seconds of silence. Thom seemed to be fiddling with the phone.

“Officer, did you get what you needed. We are safe so far. But hurry, please!”

“Did you call the police, Thom?” his mother whispered as she stumbled down to his side.

“Nah, just pretended to. I read about how to do it on the Police website. That caller creeped me out, so I pretended our line was tapped by the cops. It’s okay Mom, you should lie on the couch, and I’ll darken the room. Do you need anything? What can I get you?”

Melanie sighed and smiled wanly.

“You’re becoming quite a hero to your old mom,” she told him. She knew better than to try to kiss or hug him. She always waited for him to initiate things like that; he was at that age.

Thom’s shy grin said it all. As she drifted off to sleep, Melanie heard the phone ring again.

“Thom will get it.”