The Watch - Part 4

They weren’t home.

My mum and dad both work for the same company, which specialises in accountancy, I think. To be honest, they have tried explaining it to me, but not much of what they said stuck. About ninety percent of the time they do focus on numbers, I do know that much, but whether they actually do accountancy or not, is the big question. Maybe someday the information they give me will stay inside my head for more than a night. For years now, they have worked for the same company together. In fact, that’s where they met for the first time. I remember my dad telling me the story of how he saw my mum exiting the lift on his floor to drop off something. That was it, love at first sight, and all that gooey stuff in between. Their job is somewhat unpredictable. Sometimes they are able to take a couple of days off, other times they have to be away from home for a couple of days on some course that will help them understand any new procedure, or whatever they need to learn.

Before, I wasn’t used to the constant going away, but over the years I grew to accept it. Before I hit college, during the times when my mum and dad were away, they would ask my nana and grandad to look after me, make sure that I don’t cause any accidents. Now that I have entered college, they said that I am now old enough to look after myself. And honestly, if they would be asking my nana and grandad to look after me now that I’m eighteen years of age, I would be asking why.

Picking up the scattered mail from the hallway mat and walked into the living room, I sorted out what needed to be put to one side and what was mine. Everything was addressed to my parents, so it all went into the IN tray by the DVDs for my parents to sort out when they get back, which could be any time between now and a couple of days, to even a couple of weeks. There really isn’t any telling.

Fortunately, I found a note explaining where they have gone and when they will be back. It read: “Sebastian, your mum and I are sorry about leaving so abruptly, I know normally we give you a couple of days” notice before we head off, but this time it was unavoidable as an emergency cropped up at work that needed everyone in to sort out. We’re not sure when we will be back, but we do know that if it is today, it will be a late night, so please do not wait up for us.

“Mum and dad.”

“P.S. There’s a freshly made carrot cake in the kitchen”.

I put the note down and went straight for my mum’s flowery cake tin beside the plain old breadbin, and lifted the lid. Immediately, the delicious smell of carrot cake met my nose and I breathed deeply. There were no knives in the draw meaning that they were all in the dishwasher. After extracting a knife from the dishwasher, making sure that it was dry, I cut myself a decent size slice before heading into the living room to watch a couple of episodes of my favourite TV show, Friends, as I wait for the day to end.

It was hard not to miss the strange package sitting on the table next door to the sofa. I had noticed it before, but I got distracted by cake, which I think is a good excuse, if I do say so myself.

“Strange,” I said, putting down the slice of cake. I should have gotten a plate as an innumerable number of crumbs spilled across the table. I picked up the package, “it doesn’t seem to be addressed to anyone.” It was just a strange package neatly wrapped up in brown paper. It wasn’t that big, it would sit comfortably in both my hands without threatening to fall off, but it whatever was inside it made it weigh a heck of a lot.

I was so focused on the package that it took me a couple of seconds to notice the letter that sat underneath the package. It had a name on it.

Mine?

“I don’t remember ordering anything?” I said to myself putting the package to one side and picking up the letter. Could it be from my mum and dad? It’s not my birthday and I don’t recall asking for anything. “Well, there’s only one way to find out,” I said opening the letter.

Inside the envelope was a piece of paper that had been folded into quarters. Unfolding the letter, I read.

“Dear Sebastian,” the letter started.

“This is definitely not from my mum or dad,” I said to myself, “they wouldn’t have started a letter this way.”

I read on, “now that you have turned eighteen, we feel you will be able to make good use of your new watch. It can do more than just tell the time.” That was it. The letter ended there. There wasn’t a name or a signature of any kind to show who sent it, which made me suspect that this wasn’t something I could trust. But my curiosity got the better of me and I unwrapped the package anyway. Inside was a white cardboard box. I examined the box for any sort of log of some kind to give me some clue about where this came from, but it was just an ordinary white box. Does this mean it is just a gift from someone? I found the grated line that ran along the top of the box, which I pierced with my fingers and started to lift the lid. For some reason, I felt tense. I know I have no idea about what is exactly in this box, but I shouldn’t be this tense, surely. Taking a deep breath to calm myself down a bit, I opened the box…

TO BE CONTINUED...

Thanks for reading

Antony Hudson

(TonyHadNouns)