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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
by RRP
Sam at least attempted to mop up the paint before it dried, and scrub the peanut butter off the couch cushions, but frankly– he was beyond caring enough to get every little bit of mess and his hand still hurt. He just wanted two seconds without James getting into something or breaking something. A quick consultation with the kitchen clock told him that it was a decent hour to feed James lunch, after which, he prayed he could lay him down for a nap.
It didn’t take long to find leftovers in the fridge– things Sam assumed had been from dinner the previous evening and safe for James to consume. He made use of the microwave and heated up some cooked veggies, macaroni and cheese, and then chicken strips. James was made to sit quietly in a kitchen table chair while the food was being readied, twiddling his thumbs.
Sam scrubbed James down with a washcloth as the chicken heated, and was frightened nearly beyond his wits– the child was a mere two, and already he was at an mental age where he could plot and plan. Sam could actually see ideas forming behind those bright little eyes.
He set the food in front of James and handed the child a fork. James took the utensil and started eating, though a bit messily. While watching James eat, it occurred to Sam that he hadn’t had anything in the way of food since early that morning. He decided he could wait, however. The prospect of meeting one of James’ disasters with food sitting on his stomach was far from appealing.
Sam was just beginning to hope that lunch might go by without incident when he was met by a forkful of peas flung in his face. The little pellets of vegetable made contact and splattered, squirting their green content all over Sam and the floor of the kitchen. James laughed gleefully, and raised his fork again. Sam snatched the fork, biting back a yelp as his hand throbbed painfully, and shook his head firmly.
“No. No more.” James’ eyes widened in surprise, and he meekly nodded as the fork was returned to him. Sam picked peas off his suit with a frown of disdain at the once unscathed material, and dropped them in the trash.
It wasn’t long before James slid off his chair, claiming to be done, and started to dash off away from the table. Sam caught him, and swung him into the air. “Not quite yet, kiddo. It’s nap time.”
James blinked, stupefied by the sheer devastation of the revelation– his afternoon plans were nearly ruined if he was to be sleeping. A new plan began forming, and he opened his mouth in the expected wail of protest. Sam seemingly ignored the noise and trooped over to the untainted couch to drop off his wriggling bundle.
“Here, kid. Where I can keep an eye on you.” James sniffled, but compliantly lay down on the couch, stretching out on a large fluffy pillow, and then began his act. His lower lip trembled ever so slightly, his eyes grew moist and watery– and all other noise in the room ceased.
“Song, pweese?” There was a moment of extended silence as Sam seemed to consider the request, but then the Sweeper shrugged and answered with a sigh.
“I don’t remember any, kiddo. Sorry.” James sat up and tugged on Sam’s pant leg, a tear sliding down his cheek.
“Pweese?” He repeated, this time with more emphasis on the word. “Jus’ one?” Sam shook his head, and sat down on the coffee table across from the couch.
“I really don’t remember any. Why don’t you sing something?” Sam gave the first suggestion that sprang to mind, while racking his brain for words or a tune or something– all lullabies were long forgotten, but he was reaching a point where he would do anything just to get James to fall asleep.
James nodded, and settled back against the pillow, his little mouth opening in the strains of a song– “Cree craw toads foot, geese walk barefoot. Cree craw toads foot, geese walk barefoot.” He repeated the mantra over and over, the slightest hint of a tune creeping into the words. Sam wondered what kind of lullaby it was, but dismissed it with a mental wave.
James looked a bit surprised when the gravelly voice of the Sweeper joined him in the small song, but he ceased singing as the big man continued. He fought against heavy eyelids, but was losing the battle. Less than two minutes later, his eyes closed and he drifted off into sweet oblivion.
Sam stopped singing and slowly backed away, scared to death that the little boy might detect his movement and wake up. He turned to view the kitchen and the living room, and sighed. Taking a break, or icing his hand (which was continuing to ache painfully), would have to wait. Peas that had missed Sam earlier had made contact with the floor, and were still sitting there. Sam willed them to roll away and disappear, but no such luck.
Paint still dotted the wall; dried paint that would require paint remover which would require touching up the wall afterwards. He decided to leave the paint. Who knew? Maybe Miss Parker would like some of her little brother’s self-expression flung on her living room wall; a permanent fridge hanging of some type.
Then he remembered the mud that was still upstairs in the hall, and he needed to at least make sure the poor “rappit” was alive. So Sam dutifully picked up the peas, and wiped the kitchen floor for the second or third time that day, then trooped up the stairs to take care of the mud and check on the rabbit.
All was calm, the rabbit was alive, and Sam thought things were finally going his way as he walked back down the stairs twenty minutes later– then he saw the couch.
It was empty.
The back door was swinging in the breeze, and Sam rushed through it, eyes scanning the yard for James. He was about to loose hope completely, when he saw a little head bobbing up and down inside his Grand Cherokee, and remembered that he hadn’t locked it earlier.
“James!” Sam yelled to get the child’s attention, half-relieved, half-horrified. James looked at him and waved. Then, he hit the middle of the steering wheel as hard as he could. The loud, chaotic sound echoed through the neighborhood and Sam sprinted towards the SUV.
The car door hadn’t been shut all the way, and Sam jerked it open with little effort. James grinned at him, and took his hands off the horn. “You were gone ‘en I ‘oke up. I was jus’ lookin’ for you.”
Sam sighed and picked the boy up as he slid out of the car. “How did you get up here?” He mused aloud as he set James down on the grass. James shrugged and began running in circles while emitting a high pitched shrieking sound that reminded Sam of a fire-alarm.
“Hey, kiddo.” Sam started, knowing that he had to get James away from the house before one of them was killed, “You wanna go to the park?” James stopped shrieking and spinning, and looked up with wide eyes.
“Yeah! Park! Park! Park!” He jumped up and down while repeating the demand, and Sam almost smiled. Almost. Sam picked James up and went to the front of the house. Once on the sidewalk, he gave the house a sidelong glance, and decided that he wasn’t going to risk going back inside, even for five minutes.
He set James down, and held his hand as they lazily drifted towards the park. Seagulls flew above them, cackling and calling as they soared past. As they neared their destination, the seagulls were accompanied by the sound of breaking waves and the roar of people talking all at once.
Once on the tot playground, James attacked the jungle gym with a fury. Sam followed at a close pace, determined not to let anything happen to James. Explaining ruined couch to Miss Parker was one thing– explaining the death and/or serious injury of her brother was another.
All was well and good for about twenty minutes– then James saw the ice cream vendor. He was in the middle of a miniature, swaying, plank board bridge and jumping probably wasn’t his best option, but he jumped.
“Ice ‘ream!” James shouted gleefully. Sam almost missed catching him as he fell. James apparently didn’t notice the sudden effect of gravity, and continued to wriggle in Sam’s arms. “Ice ‘ream!”
“Okay, okay!” Sam relented with a laugh, the closest he had come to humor today, and nodded as he set James down. “We’ll get you some ice cream.” James slid out of Sam’s arms and rushed towards the vendor, Sam following as he pulled out his wallet.
It didn’t take James long to pick chocolate, and Sam waited while the vendor filled the little cone. The man handed it to Sam with a nod towards the park. “Your little boy is awfully rambunctious. You might want to go catch him before he attacks that clown...” Sam started to correct the man, but whirled as the meaning of the words settled in.
James was already halfway across the park, running full speed towards a clown with a handful of balloons. The clown knelt down to meet the boy, looking and acting far too friendly for Sam’s liking. Sam took off at a sprint, quickening even more as the clown picked James up. He was almost there, and opened his mouth to shout, but a sudden pain in his chest made him stop. His running pace slowed to a stumble, and he faltered. With a low groan, he collapsed.
His last thought was, “Put him down!”
