The Monster in the Door
Mom’s dark curly hair came first, then her round, large-frame eyeglasses, followed by the rest of her plump face. As she peeked through the doorway adjacent to my bed, I got a whiff of the perm she had gotten earlier that day.
“Is everything alright?”
She sounded slightly concerned.
I hesitated for a moment, but said, “Yeah.”
“I thought you called.” Her tone changed, and she stepped further into my bedroom, hands on her hips. “Are you playing your little football game? You need to go to bed. You have school tomorrow.”
“No!” I shouted. She was always accusing me of playing the football game. I pointed towards the closet. “It’s not even near me. It’s all the way over there.”
“Okay,” she said without looking. “Well, go to sleep.”
She reached in for the doorknob.
“What?” she snapped.
“Can you leave it open?”
Slowly, she pulled her hand back.
“You have a nightlight.I don’t want the hall lights keeping you up.”
“They won’t. Please?”
She stepped out into the hallway, and her slippers shuffled against the carpet until the sound faded away.
I really wanted the door closed, but I knew that if I shut my eyes and opened them, even for half of a second, it wouldn’t have mattered.
The door would be open again.
The monster would be peering back at me once more.
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