Generation One —Chapter Five ReBoot: A Parent’s Nightmare

Erik slipped his key into the lock on the front door and let himself in. Just in approaching his home something felt off.  He took a quick look around. The house was unmarred. There were still very few windows for a thief to break into, no sign anything had been disturbed, yet it seemed eerily empty. The afternoon was waning and he realized he was just going to have to put a light on the front porch. Pushing into the foyer, he quickly glanced around in the dimness of the interior. What few lights they had were all set to auto, to help save on the bills. With two of them working and gaining promotions, they were still barely scraping by. Which is why, to his deepest regret, little Patrice was left alone after school. They couldn’t even afford to put her in the after-school care program. Without so much as a television to keep her occupied, she was left on her own.

Everything was happening so fast.
He seemed to have missed Patrice’s toddler years. When did she learn to walk, talk and use the toilet all by herself? Suddenly, in the wink of an eye, as if she’d jetted straight out of her little bassinet a full-blown child, she was off to school. Unable to find so much as a teenager willing to spend a couple of hours in the afternoon to watch their little girl, for just a few Simoleons, this was the quandary.  He had attempted more than once to talk to Zoe about his fears …

“I’m not comfortable leaving Patrice alone while we’re at work,” Erik said one afternoon.
Erik could feel the tension mounting, could almost see her hackles rising. Again, he blamed the tension on the never-ending building process. Both of them snapped too quickly at each other.
“I’m not quitting my job, Erik.”
“No, and I wouldn’t ask you, to. We’re barely scratching by on our combined paychecks, as it is.”
“Then, why bring it up?” Zoe raked a hand through her long, dark brown hair, pulling it off of her forehead, and then let it go again to tumbled about her slender shoulders. She looked tired to Erik. He knew she was working just as hard as he was.
“You’re my wife, the mother of our daughter. I thought we could talk about it. Voice our concerns. I have them. She’s spending way too much time on her own. Alone. We don’t even have a television to ‘babysit’ her. I’m very worried one day I’ll come home from work and she just won’t be here.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” Zoe said, dismissing his fears. “She always gets her homework done. Her teacher tells me she’s a very good student.”…

“Patrice!” Erik said, his voice echoing off the bare sheet rock. They still had no proper flooring, merely cement. The walls totally unadorned. On the upside, they had managed a nice matching set of furniture for their little progeny. A bed, a bookcase, a dresser, a lamp. And, she had an over-sized stuffed brownish-gold dinosaur, she often punched—which was also a concern. Currently, set up in what would become their living room, Erik worried about any number of things when it came to Patrice. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but she certainly wasn’t as easy as her mother presented her. Zoe sometimes lived in a nice little bubble of her own making.

Walking down the wide hallway, he turned right at the bend and then walked through the archway on the left, expecting to find his little daughter sitting on a stump at their kitchen table, sipping a glass of orange juice and eating chips. The lights came on with his movement. She wasn’t there. He crossed the room and rapped on the closed bathroom door. No answer. Checking, in disbelief, there was no light coming from underneath the door, either. He opened it anyway. No Patrice.
In a panic, the father ran back out of the house, down the block, through the ethereal space continuum, until he reached Magnolia Blossom Park in the heart of their neighborhood. Glancing about him, he could see several Sims milling about. He checked the chess tables first. There were three of them, occupied, but no Patrice. As he crossed the wide park, his long hurried steps turned into jogs as he ran around looking everywhere for a small, blonde girl. “Patrice! Patrice, where are you? It’s Daddy! Patrice!”

Suddenly the little girl appeared out from amidst the bushes, wiping her hands on her shirt and shorts. “Daddy!” she hollered and ran over to him. “Here I am. I was hungry and I found some yummy grilled fruit on the picnic tables over there,” she pointed to the creek just beyond the fence railings.
“You scared Daddy half to death,” he said, hugging her to him. “What did I say about leaving the house when Mommy and Daddy are at work?”
“But I was hungry.”
“Patrice,” Erik said, sounding way too much like his own father, just then. Taking that firm, stern, you’re-really-going-to-get-it-now, tone. The very same tone he’d railed at as a kid. His mother was right. She’d cursed him years ago: I hope you get one just like you! Patrice certainly was stubborn enough to be just like him. “Mommy always leaves food in the fridge for you. She cooks just before she leaves for work. So, don’t give me that line of malarkey.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, digging the toe of her tennis shoe in the dirt lane. She peeked up at him every now and again to see if he was really mad. In that way, she was just like her mother. “I was lonely and I wanted to play some chess.”
“Okay, see? I like that. Just be honest with me. Let’s get home, it’s getting dark.”
Once they got home, Erik made her some dinner. While she sat at the little kitchen table, on her very own stump, he decided it was time to share the news. “You should know that Mommy is having another baby.”
“Is that why she’s getting so fat?”
Erik grinned, flashing a look at his daughter. “Don’t let Mommy hear you call her fat, okay? But, yes, that’s why her tummy is so big.”
“Oh, I thought she was just eating too many cookies and cakes.”
Erik placed the plate of food before her. “Here, eat your mac and cheese, you little minx.” He rumpled her short hair. “Then you can finish your homework, take your shower and —”
“I know, I know. Brush my teeth and go to bed.”

October 28, 2015




Chapter Five:























Erik was quickly learning just how very expensive children were. He now was the father of two, a little girl and recently a baby son. Zoe was excelling in her field and got a promotion. Shortly after that she consented to another child. In the meantime, Erik was constantly honing his craft. He was now into writing music again, this time jingles. Every now and again, when the muse overtook him, he turned out another song. This pleased his boss.
He, too, received a promotion. Still, between them, the appliances in the kitchen had not been upgraded, as he had planned. Zoe needed better appliances, if she was to continue toward her dream of being a chef. He did, however, manage to purchase a nice bar for her, since she was being pressed to learn mixology, too. Her drinks were okay … but he wouldn’t recommend she cater an event or anything. A little more tart in flavor than he liked. Every time he made up his mind to remake their kitchen, or even get Patrice the chess table
“I’m not comfortable leaving Patrice alone while we’re at work,” Erik said one afternoon.
Erik could feel the tension mounting, could almost see her hackles rising at what he guessed she thought he meant.
“I’m not quitting my job, Erik.”
“No, and I wouldn’t ask you, to. We’re barely scratching by on our combined paychecks, as it is.”
“Then, why bring it up?”
“You’re my wife, the mother of our daughter. I thought we could voice our concerns. I have them. She’s spending way too much time on her own. Alone. We don’t even have a television to ‘babysit’ her. I’m very worried one day I’ll come home from work and she just won’t be here.”