Aaron 3

When Aaron was eight years old, a voice came to him, and it said, “Remember.”

Now that he was older and had a much better grip on language, he was able to ask, “Remember what?”

And the voice said, “Remember.”

Aaron, being the young and impetuous kid that he would be at that age, asked with more fervor, “Remember What!”

And the voice said, “Remember who you are.”

Feeling a bit confused by this along with hearing a voice that seemed to come from within him, Aaron ventured “I know who I am. I’m Aaron.”

“There’s more to being Aaron than just a name” replied the voice.

“Oh yeah?” said Aaron. “Like what?”

“I will teach you. It will take some time, but you will know all there is about being you. First and foremost, never forget who you are. And never let anyone tell you different.”

Aaron thought about this, then said “Who would tell me different?”

“There are those who will become resentful of who you are, and will try to make you feel insignificant. Never let this stop you, and never let them win.”

Aaron thought about that, and with the usual energy an eight-year-old can muster to requests of this nature, said “Sure, whatever.”

It was over five years since the death of Aaron’s father, and now, right now, Alice realized something: She forgot to mourn his death. She wanted to say that she was too busy getting a new home and a new job and taking care of Aaron and the thousand other things that came with being a suddenly single parent, but that wasn’t it.

Honestly, she didn’t understand why they were together for as long as they were. When he got home late, as usual, she would pretend not to notice the smell of alcohol or women or both on him, thinking it was just a phase, he’ll grow out of it now that he has a son. But that never happened. He used their home as a pitstop, going to work every day, coming home late at night, eating, sleeping, then back to work. Their sex life, as well as their love for each other, dwindled to nothing, and when he died it was just another day.

So while she never truly mourned his passing, she was still grateful for the one precious thing in her life that he gave her, her son. Besides that one incident Aaron thrived in school, had friends, and was growing up to be the perfect son. His teachers had high praise for him, saying he was smart and thoughtful. In fact they started calling him the old man of the class, because he seemed more mature than the rest of his classmates.

And at home he was always dutiful, helping with chores and getting whatever schoolwork done and out of the way. They would watch movies and share a few laughs and snuggle on the couch when the need came. The transition from the old home to he new was pretty seamless, with Aaron being less trouble than she could imagine. She had a good job in a clerk’s office, had moved them into an apartment in a better neighborhood where food shopping and catching the bus was much easier. So life was good.

He was getting bullied for a few days, but that stopped after he broke that kid’s finger. That kid was a bully anyway and probably deserved it. And all of the kids and the teacher who saw it happen all agreed it was an accident on Aaron’s part. It was more of a dislocation than a break anyway. So he got a day of detention for fighting and that was that. 

There were times though that made her wonder. Like when she would overhear Aaron talking to himself. But she decided that that was just a phase and he would grow out of, and left it alone.

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