The Month of Cheese Whizz

It was a short-term thing, this stay with the aunt and uncle. As much as he was already missing his parents, he found himself at peace with the fact that he would be staying with them at their house for the upcoming month. 

He had packed everything he would ever need for the month’s stay: his toothbrush, his Sunday to Saturday medications, his notebooks, the fantasy fiction series he was reading, several changes of clothes, several sticks of deodorant, three pairs of shoes, a yellow rain jacket, a yellow rubber duckie umbrella that quacked whenever you opened and closed it, a pocket calculator, a thermos for coffee and a thermos for cold water, three sleeves of saltine crackers, two fridge magnets from his time at the Statue of Liberty, his smartphone, his wallet, his passport, several chargers he could plug into the wall socket, several installments of a superhero comic book, a stuffed monkey, a letter from his grandmother he had received at camp two years ago, a power bank for his phone, a portable gaming system with sixteen downloaded games he could play at his leisure, a comb, loose change, and a pair of sunglasses with small round lenses. 

Cheese Whizz was feeling more than prepared for the vacation with his aunt and uncle for a month. He was feeling pretty close to invincible. 

His aunt and uncle lived near the top of Gossamer Hill. They had discovered an amazing bit of luck nearly fourteen years ago, when an old widow who owned the property died suddenly. Her family was wishing to dispose of the house and property quickly and without a fuss. The aunt and uncle got a very rushed feeling from the deceased widow’s family – it seemed as if they were either in dire financial straits or wished to flee the country as soon as possible due to an illegal entanglement. 

Either way, they had sold the house and property for a song, barely above asking price. The aunt and uncle had deliberately chosen not to have children for various reasons, and had lived in relative harmony on Gossamer Hill with their six cats for nearly fourteen years. It seemed as if they found peace and joy there, and could keep on living with their blessed conditions until one or both of them passed away. 

That is, until the unholy and gruesome fight that Cheese Whizz’s parents had waged. Who started it was unknown at this point. The fight was so bad that Cheese Whizz needed to be moved elsewhere, for at least a month, while his parents properly sorted things out. And what better holding place than at his aunt and uncle’s, on Gossamer Hill?

His aunt and uncle had welcomed him with open arms, literally and figuratively, as they swung open their front door to meet him. Oh, my darling boy, his aunt Mildred said, standing there in her long flowing pink robe and just looking the picture of health. Cheese Whizz… there you are Cheese, his uncle Gifford said, green eyes glimmering brightly and a smile blazing. 

Mildred took his backpack and Gifford took his rolling suitcase, and Cheese Whizz followed them into the house and closed the front door behind him. He assumed that his relatives knew more about his parents fighting than he did, for they were treating him very kindly, almost suspiciously so. Like they were carrying an expensive object in a loose cardboard box with the words “Fragile – Handle with Care.” 

He had never been to his relatives’ house before, so he had no idea if the arrangement and presentation that was before him was staged or normal, but he had definitely met his relatives before and knew that they did not always act like this. They had presented themselves as kind in the past, sure, but never over-the-top like they were acting today.

They showed him to the guest bedroom on the ground floor and placed his two bags on the floor next to the bed. This is where you’ll be holding down the fort, champ, uncle Gifford said. I hope I’m not putting you out at all, Cheese Whizz said sadly. How on earth would you be putting us out? aunt Mildred asked, a real note of surprise in her voice. Well, if you were expecting any guests this month or anything, he mumbled. Our schedule’s wide open this month, so don’t let those worries plague you for a second, his uncle said.

Cheese Whizz shared dinner with his aunt and uncle and tried not to look too glum as he was dishing potatoes and meatloaf into his open mouth. When he had been dropped off via taxi, he was just assuming that his parents were going through a rough patch and nothing more. But as his aunt and uncle were acting so suspiciously kind and chipper, he began to wonder if there was something deeper and more hideous at play between his parents. 

What was a boy to do in this kind of situation, without any peers his own age around to consult with and commiserate with? Make the best of the situation, he supposed. Make it through the month and hope that his parents had weathered the storm of whatever they were going through. Try to stay out of his aunt and uncle’s hair for as much as possible. If this first evening at dinner was any indication, the odds were that they would be treating him like a charity project rather than what he was – an eleven year old boy. 

When dinner was finished, he thanked them for the food and lodging and retired to his room where he spread out on the bed, opened one of the comic books he had brought with him, and immersed himself in the world of Superhero Sam. His aunt and uncle both worked full time at the local hospital and ran busy schedules. Typically nurses and doctors either had morning shifts or night shifts, but Mildred and Gifford were such an integral part of the hospital team that they were primarily on day shifts.

He was left to his own devices during the week days. For as much as his aunt and uncle seemed pleased to see him and lavish love and attention on him, they certainly seemed to be gone a lot even when they were not at work. 

They shared family dinner together every evening, plus dessert. Mildred always prepared the meal, set the table, and cleaned the dishes every evening, even though she and her husband worked the exact same hours at the exact same job. Cheese Whizz didn’t comment on this kind of thing, though, because he was a guest and found that kind of thing improper. 

Gifford and Mildred would spend a limited amount of time talking about their shifts and patients, and then once this part of the meal was through, they would turn to him in unison with hawk eyes and ask “How was your day, Cheese?” 

He would look down at his plate of food, hemming and hawing, fidgeting his fingers under the table, and respond with one word answers. ” Fine” or “decent” or “okay.” When they would, inevitably, inquire further, asking him to unpack that word a bit, he would just shrug his shoulders and respond “nothing more to say, really”. And then they would eat in silence for the rest of the meal, besides his aunt and uncle trying to ask a few more questions and almost always getting no response from Cheese.

During the week days, when Cheese Whizz grew tired of the video games he was playing and the comic books he had brought with him, he would spend time in the sitting room of the house with the cats. Five of the six cats were friendly and enjoyed spending time sitting on the couch as he sat there and thought about things, or watched TV. He tried petting them a few times and they didn’t like that, but he respected their aversion, and allowed them to just sit there on the couch with him. He appreciated their presence. 

On certain days, he would walk through the kitchen and outside into the back gardens. He would sit on one of the deck chairs or walk around the garden, observing the flowers and occasionally leaning in to smell some of them. 

On one day of the month – it was a Thursday on the third week – he had the courage (and the recklessness) to walk into his aunt and uncle’s bedroom and take a look around. It looked like any ordinary couple’s bedroom – a bit messy, but also slightly refined and peaceful. It looked similar to his parent’s bedroom. He could feel his breathing become a bit tighter and more shallow the longer he stepped around and the longer he stood in place. Even though it was a part of the house and he knew his aunt and uncle wouldn’t be home for hours, it felt a bit wrong to have entered their private domain. 

Before he could think about his actions, he began snooping. He opened a few of the drawers and didn’t find anything interesting. When he got to the third drawer and discovered some of his aunt’s more delicate undergarments, he felt ashamed and closed the drawers. 

He walked over to the nightstand on the left. It clearly belonged to his uncle’s side of the bed. There was a John Grisham book and a framed picture of his grandfather, his uncle’s father. In the picture, his grandfather was smiling and looking directly at the camera. He was holding up a marlin he had just caught. 

Cheese also spotted a folded up piece of paper that was on the nightstand, next to the John Grisham book. He reached for it and unfolded the paper. He was tempted to sit down on his uncle’s side of the bed to read it, but he did not wish to leave any body indentations in the mattress or ruffles in the comforter. 

He stood next to the nightstand and read the three sentences on the piece of paper. It looked to be in his father’s handwriting. It read: “Gifford, Thanks again for looking after Cheese these past few weeks. Things are still looking unclear with Holly. She just isn’t herself since they changed her medications. William.” 

Cheese stood there for a few moments, looking down at the lines he had just read and trying to process what they meant and how it impacted him. Mom, on medications? But she could be so temperamental sometimes, especially if the house wasn’t clean or he wasn’t doing his homework. He shuddered to think what she would look like and how she would behave if she was off her medication. 

He folded the piece of paper back the way it was, and set it back on the nightstand in its proper place. He stepped out of the bedroom and back to the couch in the sitting room, where the cats were waiting for him.

Uncle Gifford and aunt Mildred threw a small party for him on his last day at their house on Gossamer Hill. Gifford barbecued shish kebabs, there was an ice cream cake, and they had invited a few of their family friends to meet Cheese Whizz before he went back home. Their family friends asked lots of questions and were nice enough, but they were also old as sin. Far older than his aunt and uncle or parents were. 

On the first day of the new month, his uncle drove him back to his family’s house. His aunt had given him a hug before he stepped into the car and said, You just come back any time you want now, ok. We just loved having you here. Cheese nodded and smiled. 

His uncle didn’t say much on the drive to his family’s house, but that was fine with Cheese. He could feel his uncle’s care and attention in the long silences that they shared on the road and at stalled traffic lights. 

Gifford parked the car on the street outside of his family’s house. There it was again, after a month. It all looked the same, and yet Cheese Whizz knew and could feel that something had changed. He was technically back and it would appear that everything was the same, like everything had gone back to normal, but he knew deep down that there was no going back. A spell had been cast, and it was his duty to meet this new phase of life. What the phase of life would look like, and how soon the changes would appear baldly in the light, Cheese Whizz could only speculate. But he knew in his bones that a storm was coming. No – that it had already come. 

His uncle stepped out of the car and walked with him to the front door of his family’s house. He rang the doorbell, and they waited there together until Cheese Whizz’s father William opened the door. 

His father was smiling, but there was discernible sadness in his eyes. Sadness that he was trying to keep hidden, but it could not be hidden in the eyes. The eyes are the gateways to the soul, Cheese thought to himself. 

His father swooped down to give him a bear hug, and proceeded to give his brother a hug as well. They exchanged pleasantries and discussed how the month’s visit went. Cheese Whizz remained silent and mainly looked down at the ground. 

Gifford asked if he should come inside and say hello to Holly, but William waved this off and said she was fine, just fine. He would pass along Gifford’s well wishes. Gifford gave Cheese Whizz a hug, and turned to walk back to his car. Cheese Whizz and his father entered the house and closed the front door. 

He found his mother Holly sitting in an armchair in the family room, wearing a long mauve robe and holding a mug of herbal tea. She smiled at him, but even from that distance he could see that she was also carrying sadness in her eyes. 

It’s good to see you, Cheese, she said slowly. My, how we’ve missed you since you’ve been away. 

Cheese Whizz nodded and forced a smile. He couldn’t seem to find where to look. 

He was back. He found himself with shallow breathing and sweating palms. He was back. It was all he could do to not make for the door, sprint back to Gossamer Hill, and stay there for another month. 

He found himself with a newfound energy and looked at his father William. Do me a favor, he said evenly. Next time there’s a fight, ship me off to Timbuktu. And don’t let me come back until you’re split, or you’ve figured out how to live with your goddamn problems. 

He carried his two bags with him up to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him.