Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Brainiac (01/02/25)
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TITLE: Counting | Previous Challenge Entry
By Yvonne Blake
01/08/25 -
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I followed his gaze to the clock and calendar. Of course! February 5th: 2/5, 2025 at 2:05. Donny had a thing for numbers. He saw them everywhere and counted constantly: shopping carts, fence posts, license plates, mileage, etc. He liked 20 french fries with his hot dog and brushed his teeth exactly 50 times – even when I was late for something and needed to hurry.
Being able to work at home was a blessing. Donny would play a video game or watch a rocket show if I had to make some phone calls or concentrate on the computer. I got used to his normal thumping, mumbling, and tiptoeing about, but I was alerted by his flapping and higher pitched voice when he became frustrated or afraid.
Over the years, I noticed that oftentimes his emotions were triggered by mine. When I became frustrated, Donny would become agitated and restless. I learned to step away from my work and sit quietly with him for a few minutes. He didn’t want to cuddle or even for me to touch his back, but he would sit close enough for our thighs to touch. He’d slowly rock back and forth whispering, “4, 7, 7, 7, 10 . . . 4, 7, 7, 7, 10 . . . ” until we had both calmed down enough for me to go back to my work.
Over the last few months, work slowed down, and finances got tight. Our rent had risen. Groceries were higher. Gas was higher. Everything was higher. I got Donny a new calculator and a new rocket video for Christmas, but what he really needed were new socks and boots. I was doing my best, but sometimes my best just wasn’t enough. Now it was income tax time, and I hoped I didn’t have to pay this year. Perhaps we’ll even get a return large enough to fix the car. I sighed, and Donny glanced at me. I smiled, “Don’t worry, Kiddo. I’m fine.”
He gave me a quick side look with his big brown eyes.
“Do you know what?”
He didn’t look at me, but tipped his face upward.
I knew he was waiting for my usual response. “I love you to the moon and back.”
He replied, “4, 7, 7, 7, 10.”
There they were again – his favorite comfort numbers. I couldn’t figure out why they were comforting. He just seemed to like how they sounded.
Then my frustration and fears increased. A nagging pain in my abdomen could not be ignored any longer. My sister, Sarah, a patient and gentle person, came to stay with Donny. I wrote pages of instructions about our daily routines: foods he liked, shows he watched, clothes he wore, precise times for everything. When my doctor admitted me to the hospital, blood tests, x-rays, and ultrasounds showed a mass on my ovary. After surgery, I tried to rest. I would be fine. I knew we’d pay for it all somehow. What worried me was Donny. Was he eating? Was he sleeping? Would Sarah understand when things weren’t going according to his routine?
In between the machinery’s beeps and nurses’ footsteps in the hall, I drifted in and out of dreamy naps. When I became aware of a shuffling near me and a soft whimpering, I turned over. Sarah had brought Donny to see me. He twisted his head side to side and fluttered his hands. Then he rushed to my side, sitting close to me on the edge of the bed.
I longed to hug him. I had missed him so much. “Don’t worry, Kiddo. I’m okay.”
As he squished a little bit closer, his breathing slowed.
“Do you know what?”
He tipped his head upward and smiled.
“I love you to the moon and back.”
He replied, “4, 7, 7, 7, 10.”
“You like those numbers, don’t you?”
He flapped his hands.
“What are those numbers? What do they mean?”
Ducking his head close to mine, he said, “4, 7, 7, 7, 10 miles . . . moon and back.”
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