Stems: Short Stories

Theseus

THESEUS

By

Angie

7/16/2021

"They're calling, Lys," Jennifer said to her husband, the phone vibrating against her palm and bones. The ring of her iPhone 5 muffled from the time her son dropped it in a bucket of green slime. She turned around from the marbled counters—her hips slamming into the safety corner guards. They never took them off after their son exited toddler stage— a staple of how little they lived in their home. The small family of three had more visits to the building that masked it's true meaning behind rainbow-colored rooms, St. Jude's hospital.

Jennifer rested her hand on her hip, the phone still ringing. Her son, Theseus, wobbled out of the hallway. His bruised purple lips dipped into a frown, his hands holding his head. Jennifer didn't want to hear the words that were going to trickle out of his mouth. The words that he told her every day, Mommy it hurts...it hurts! And she hated how her respond would be a lie. Don't worry, bubs, the pain will disappear. But his pain never shied away.

"Please," she said, hoping the call from the doctor was good news. "Hello? Hello?"

Theseus pushed his feet into the wood panels, hoping to gain more balance with his step. Once he reached his mom in the kitchen, he tugged her sky-blue shirt down. His head pounded, the pain doubling at each second.

"Hold on one second," Jennifer said, putting her phone down. "Lysander!" Her husband walked into the kitchen with three suitcases. A paw patrol one for Theseus, and red ones for Lysander and Jennifer. "I'm on the phone with them..."

"I packed the bags just in case," he said, putting his hands on his hips. Sweat didn't fail to coat his face and neck.

Jennifer glanced down at her son then back at her husband, putting the phone back to her ear. "I'm sorry about that...I'm back..."

Lysander picked up Theseus by his waist. Lysander's heart responded with sparks as Theseus wrapped his legs around his waist. He hated but loved carrying his son. There would be days where Theseus couldn't get out of his bed for the day from the pain, then there were days when he could run a marathon. But seeing his child unable to function made his skin turn into paper.

He sat him down on the black-fuzzy rug, turning on the smart-tv that no one used but Theseus. His shaking son distracted him from putting on the kid's network. Theseus shoved his fist in his mouth, biting on his knuckles. He rocked back and forth like a rocking chair, keeping his fist in his mouth.

Lysander sat down next to him, sitting him up straight. He removed the fist out of his mouth, cleaning the slobber with a tissue on the glass coffee table behind them.

"Daddy," he said, raising his voice to a scream. "I wanna go to the space room."

Lysander rubbed Theseus shoulder. Thesus saying 'space room,' was his subconscious way of saying the pain was too much. The space room had been the same decorated hospital room he stayed in every time they went to St. Jude's.

"I know...I know, bud. We're going soon," he said, kissing his head. Lysander opened his mouth, but soon closed it. He couldn't tell Theseus that soon, the doctors would remove Theseus' brain tumor. It was too much for Lysander to say. 

His breakdown seemed to calm down. Lysander turned on Paw Patrol, heading to the kitchen fridge. Lysander second guessed his action of preparing food for Theseus. His nausea from the tumor would worsen. But, Theseus needed to eat for the IV to work.