Obsession by Kathi Mills-Macias

to get started in her new job. Toni had teased her, asking if she would be as anxious to get up so early to go to work, day in and day out, five days a week, as the summer wore on. Melissa had laughed and declared that she would.
    Now Melissa stood outside the front door, the early morning sun just beginning to warm her back, as she waited for Mrs. Johnson to answer the doorbell. Melissa tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.
    The door opened wide and a smiling Beth Johnson stepped back to let her in. “Good morning, Melissa. How are you?”
    “Fine,” she answered, feeling a bit awkward as she suddenly wondered if she had been out of line to bring her backpack along, loaded with reading material and her journal. She didn't want Mrs. Johnson to think she was going to ignore Tyler.
    “You can set your things in there on the table,” Beth said, motioning toward the kitchen. “Tyler's still asleep, although I imagine he will be up any time now. You'll know he's awake when the cat comes out to greet you or you hear the sound of cartoons coming from the family room. Meanwhile, make yourself at home. Have you had breakfast?”
    “Yes… thanks.”
    “Well, feel free to help yourself if there's anything else you'd like. The same goes for lunch. Fix whatever you want. Tyler will live on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches if you let him. You might try suggesting something else once in awhile, but don't force it. As long as he has some fruit or something with it, that's fine. Anyway, my work number's by the phone. I've got to run. See you about five-fifteen or so. Bye!” Then she was out the door.
    Melissa put her backpack down on the table and stood looking around the unfamiliar kitchen. The ticking clock seemed unusually loud. She sat down, glad she had brought her journal. Getting it out of her backpack, she began to look over some of her more recent entries. She hadn't yet gotten around to writing anything new for the day when she heard a muffled sound, coming, she thought, from the area of Tyler's room. Walking quietly from the kitchen to the hallway, she made her way to Tyler's bedroom door, which was closed. The sound was louder now, although still somewhat muffled. She knocked softly.
    “Tyler?” The noise stopped, but there was no answer. “Tyler? It's me, Melissa. Can I come in?”
    After a slight pause, she heard a little voice say, “OK.” She had no sooner cracked the door than Tyler's calico cat, Bozo, escaped through the opening and streaked down the hallway. Peeking inside, she saw that Tyler was still in bed, lying under a mass of tangled covers on the bottom bunk. Pictures of racecars and basketball players competed with Winnie the Pooh and Mickey Mouse posters for wall space. He was definitely an “almost seven-year-old” boy—as he was so quick to tell anyone who would listen—torn between wanting to grow up and become a “big boy” and clinging to the comfort of his little-boy world. Melissa smiled. Hidden at home, in the back of her top dresser drawer, was her very own Pooh blanket, which she had no intention of giving up any time soon.
    “Hi, Tyler,” she said, stepping into his room. “How are you this morning?”
    Tyler sniffled. “OK.” His voice sounded as tiny as he looked, buried under all those covers. Melissa walked closer to the bed. The big brown eyes that stared back at her from the pillowcase covered with rockets and spaceships were wet, and his face was red and puffy. She knew now that what she had heard was an almost seven-year-old boy crying. She sat down next to him on the bed.
    “What's the matter?”
    His chin quivered. “I miss my daddy.”
    Her heart skipped a beat. Fighting tears, she answered him. “I'm sure you do. I'm… sorry he's not here.”
    “He went away. Mommy says he still loves me, but he lives far away now, and he can't come and see me anymore.” He stared at her, as if he expected her to say something that would make him feel better. Melissa