A Town's Babysitter

• Mykee Kalaquian, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2020

‘Town’s babysitter.’ Despite the sharp officer’s uniform, or the tightness in his arms, that’s all Jeffrey’s brothers called him.

The worst part was that he knew it was true. The most trouble the tiny town got was a family of ducks crossing at their busiest intersection; a turn in a two-way lane where the sign ‘Welcome to Crawford!’ lied. What good did the position of chief of officers do when none of them ever did anything? The pay didn’t even measure up to the title—Jeffrey had climbed to the top only to realise that it’d take him years to save enough to move to an inner-city suburb.

Still, he strove to work his hardest. So what, his efforts were wasted in the aging area? If there was one thing Jeffrey knew, it’s that once you let your guard down, something would strike. Years of surprise ambushes and shoves from his beloved brothers had crafted that mentality.

It wasn’t entirely worthless. The people were good, monotonous and predictable, but good nonetheless, and his relationship with Sarah and her son was growing into something tangible. Both of them had opened up to him recently, and Jeffrey couldn’t help the seagulls in his stomach; maybe, finally, something exciting would happen in his life. He couldn’t help the feeling that Sarah was the key to change—and for that, he was glad to stay.

Boring, lonely nights and all. Lending his recently washed car to Sarah had been a split-second decision he hadn’t regretted, not when she needed it to visit her grandma, regardless of how dusty he knew the gravel road was there. White cars could be cleaned in an hour; relationships were gained by every little piece you offered, trusting the other to take care of it. Seeing her buckle her son in and wave goodbye as she reversed out of the police station, Jeffrey wondered when it would be that she’d be saying goodbye to him as his wife. If that would be, but he’d been trained not to think like that. It was hard enough to believe in his big city dreams; if he doubted this one there was nothing left for him.

But when the phone on the desk began to ring, Jeffrey startled out of his thoughts, something inside him already knew.

The bomb had freefalled for a long while.

It wasn’t until Jeffrey reached the crash site that a familiar white car had come into view, the sides mangled and dusty and imprinted with all the signs of fatality that the timer had begun.

Ticking as he stumbled around their first responders—all friends, all sending him regretful eyes and silent apologies—and exploding as he laid eyes on Sarah and her son’s limp bodies on the stretchers being rolled away.

The impact hadn’t hit until he was left with the boy in the cold, cramped hospital room. Babysitting whilst waiting for news.

His dreams—cities, rings, families—became pinpricks on his horizon, unreachable and untouchable.