Submitted for the December 2023 prompt: Treasures, Brightly Wrapped

Richard stumbled into the hallway of the hospital. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what to do.

 

He’d spent the last four days at his mother’s bedside. One minute she was dancing around the kitchen, singing into the wooden spoon while preparing Sunday dinner, and the next she was being hauled into the back of an ambulance. How could life be so fragile? He stumbled as he took a step toward an open chair in the waiting room.

 

What had his mother told him? Her last words were so cryptic.

 

“Check the dresser drawer.”

 

The dresser? What could be in there?

 

Aside from Sunday dinners, he admitted to himself as he rested his head in his tear-soaked palms, he hadn’t spent enough time with his mother over the years. How could he? He’d always been so busy. Fresh out of high school, he was recruited to a D1 college, and from there went on to play professional soccer for nearly two decades. After growing weary of the game, he played professional baseball for another ten years. Five years into retirement he still didn’t look a day over thirty. If anything, he wanted to keep playing. His wife, however, wanted him to keep his promise that he’d someday retire and spend more time at home.

 

* * *

 

Richard returned home to his wife and kids at the kitchen table. Tracy, his wife, had stopped by the hospital with their teenagers the day before. He tried to grin or at least show his teeth, but a grimace was all he could muster.

 

“Ben, Kelsey, why don’t you both go to your rooms?” said Tracy. “Your father and I have to talk.”

 

Ben placed a hand on his father’s shoulder as he headed out of the room. “I love you,” he whispered.

 

Tracy gestured toward a chair, and Richard obliged.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. “Neither of us has lost a parent before. I’m here for you.”

 

“I only had the one,” he replied, pushing another tear away with his fist. “I never knew my father. Even in her final moments, all she could tell me was to check the dresser.”

 

“To check the dresser? What does that mean?”

 

“I have no idea. Maybe there’s something in there I need to see? Either way, I’ll stop by her house tomorrow to gather some of her things. Hopefully, I’ll find some answers.”

 

* * *

 

Richard pulled into his mother’s driveway before the sun could crest the trees in her backyard, her last words still churning in his head.

 

He made his way up the creaking stairs, the same set of stairs she swore up and down every day that she was going to get fixed “in the spring”. After decades worth of blooming flowers, she still never bothered to get them repaired.

 

Her bedroom window was open just a crack. It blew the linen curtains into the room. He shut it and walked to the dresser. He opened the top drawer, to reveal... Is this what she wanted him to find? A dozen pairs of gold-toed socks?

 

Something caught his eye in the back of the drawer, a different golden glimmer. He reached for it and pulled out a gold locket, no bigger than his thumb. How long had it been tucked away? He couldn’t remember ever seeing his mother wear it.

 

On one side, there was a picture of the moon. How peculiar. On the other side was a picture of a baby, he presumed to be himself, in his mother’s arms. Only, there was someone else behind her, someone with green-tinted skin and blazing red eyes. Could that be? No…

 

Richard dropped the locket onto the bedroom floor. Could that photograph really be of his father? What had become of him? What WAS he? He staggered backward until he lost his balance and fell onto the bed. It felt as if the room were spinning. Faster and faster still.

 

There must be something more. He got up and braced himself on the nearest wall as he took baby steps back toward the dresser. He pawed away at the drawer, looking for something, anything, a mere scrap of evidence as to the identity of his long-lost father. Other than balled-up socks, there was only the locket. He held it in his hands, looking for something more.

 

“What’s this?” He noticed a small indent, no bigger than the tip of a pen, at the back of the heirloom.

 

Richard sat at the kitchen table. To his left was the locket, and to his right was a ball-point pen.

 

“Here goes nothing…”

 

He pushed the pen into the back of the locket, which then popped out of his hand and landed on four small legs atop the table. The golden bug turned to face him. Could it see him? Moments later, a green light shone from the front of the locket and ran up and down his face.

 

“Authorization complete,” said a vaguely familiar voice from the bug.

 

“What’s happening?” asked Richard. “You can talk?”

 

“Richard, this is your father speaking. I met your mother during a reconnaissance mission of Earth. Looking at the contraption in front of you, and the picture inside it, I’m sure you’ve already concluded that I’m not of your world. And, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re not either. Well, at least not entirely. We age much slower than the lifeforms of Earth. I asked your mother to keep me a secret until you were old enough to understand. Unless something has happened, you should be sixty in Earth years. Which means you’re ready to come home. When you’re ready, press the button on the locket again. Be sure to say any goodbyes. You won’t be returning to earth, after all. I can answer any questions. See you soon.”