A Fool’s Paradise

Max, recently returned from his shift at McDonald’s, is now teetering over on the couch, sleep and heavy eyelids threatening to take him. The soft sounds of his parents whispering and cooking dinner flitter in his ears, exacerbating sleep’s spell. His eyes fall closed, his fate surely sealed, when, without warning, the door to his family’s apartment smashes open with deadbolt splintering violently through the frame. Adrenaline feeds this nightmare as countless officers storm inside, guns drawn. Max’s mother screams as an officer throws his father to the ground. Max stares up at the gun in his face, realizes he is in a waking nightmare, and raises his hands, cowering deeper into the couch. He dares a glance toward his parents and can see neither – the only evidence of their presence his mother’s wails. The officers sweep the small apartment and haul Max’s brother David out of one of the bedrooms, inciting another wave of screams from Max’s mother. The officers leave, dragging David behind them, but saying not a word, fewer than five minutes having passed since the Max closed his eyes.

Several more minutes pass, and with head spinning and heart pounding, Max finally manages to get off the couch, the sound of his mother’s sobs breaking the trance. He sees his father lying on the ground, blood pooling from a wound on the back of his head. His mother is there nursing him with a rag as blood pulses and lips murmur.

He peers into the shared bedroom, now in complete disarray, and scans for what he already knows has been taken – the family laptop. But, in his search, he sees a faint glow from deep beneath the bed and kneels down, bending his head and discovering that David’s phone lay there. He lies down on his stomach and stretches his arm and hand toward it, with fingers barely grazing. Exerting a strained stretch, he manages a firmer grip, brings it out, and sits on the bed, slightly panting. It’s unlocked, he thinks, surprised. Sitting there, he tries to imagine it flying from David’s hands as the faceless officers wrestled him from the desk chair, but struggles. There’s no way it could have slid or bounced that far, he thinks.

Returning to the kitchen, he again join his mother down in her kneeling position next to his father. “Is he gonna be okay?” At that, Max’s dad’s eyelids slowly stir and hinge open, and he looks upon his wife and son. “Ow,” he smiles, and then begins to clambor to his knees.

“Easy, Mike,” Jen cries, placing a stilling hand on his shoulder and nodding at Max. “Grab a chair.”

Max obeys, and mother and son help husband and father up. Mike throws his arms around them, tears spoiling his smile, then freezes. “Where’s David?”