Word of the day: Flower
Why Mason was sitting on the floor facing the chair was a mystery. He didn’t speak. He only nodded a few times at the empty corner chair with the new floral pattern that Leslie now was convinced looked all wrong and needed to be replaced. Marty turned to Leslie for some guidance or insight into what might be happening, but she had nothing but a clueless shrug. He knelt next to his son, examined his face, looked at what he might be seeing in the chair, and then his son again.
“Whatcha doin, buddy?”
“Talking to Terry.”
Marty turned back to Leslie who wore a bemused smirk. Marty on the other hand was more unsettled, but tried to quell it.
“Cool,” he said. “Who’s Terry?”
“The man who sits in the chair.”
Marty turned back to Leslie who now wore a more concerned expression. Marty’s uneasiness gnawed at his gut. Leslie knelt behind Mason and placed her hands on his shoulders.
“Mason.” She leaned into his cheek. “Do you have an imaginary friend in the chair?”
“No.” He pointed. “He’s right there. He’s always there.”
Marty swallowed hard and mumbled to Leslie.
“So, we’re getting rid of the chair, right?”
Leslie brushed it off. “He’s just playing. Kids make stuff up. You know that.”
She walked away to the kitchen. Marty looked at his son and then to the chair. Maybe he was overreacting to an innocent’s child’s game.
“Terry, eh?” he said.
The dining room light flickered. Mason giggled.