Mother's Helper

I flinched. Congealed wax felt stiff and tight on the back of my hand. What had just happened? The faint odor of burnt candle and smoke filled the air. I wrinkled my nose in distaste. I looked down to find the dribbly, half-used white candlestick in my favorite brass holder hanging from my fingertips. Its flame long since extinguished.

I dropped the candlestick and stepped back, nearly stumbling in my haste. I looked left, then right quickly. When had it gone dark? A faint buzzing in my ears wouldn't let me concentrate. I needed answers to fill the empty expanse in my mind that should have held memories of the last few hours.

Confused and disoriented, I shook my head but the buzzing only grew louder. A glare. There it was again. Oh, thank goodness. It was just the television. Now, where was that remote control? What a silly question. Where else would it be? I shouldn't have to look far. It would either be in Dan's hand or right where he left it so he could go to the bathroom.

Dan!

Why was he sitting that way in his easy chair? How can he watch television from that angle? I took a hesitant step forward. My eyes strained to look into his vacant ones in the near darkness.
"Dan?" I whispered.

No answer. No recognition. No movement. No breath.

"Dan!" I called, louder this time as I stretched out my hand to touch his arm.

Thunk!

I jumped, frightened at the new sound. I shuffled my left foot as something hard rolled across it. Keeping my eyes on Dan's ashen face, I knelt down and ran my hand across the carpet. I strained further, not wanting to look away. I stretched my fingers out and touched a round, hard shape.

I released the breath I had been holding. His damn hockey puck. He never watched a game without tossing that thing back and forth from one hand to the other throughout the entire game.

I sat down with a thump as my bottom connected with the floor. My mind crowded with disjointed images as I looked about the dark room.

Of their own volition, my eyes strayed back to Dan's. "Har-umph!" I chortled. "Guess you won't be watching any more hockey games  when Married ... with Children is on."

I stood quickly, swaying slightly from the rush to my head. I steadied myself, and then picked up my heavy brass candlestick holder. Mother said it would come in handy one day. She was right.