Best Used Before

02/03 - 02/05, 2007

"Dad, it's March First!" William and Amber reminded him in unison as they dashed into his bedroom. William clutched the worn, lifeless video player with both hands, and his sister beamed from ear to ear and held up the package as if it was the blue ribbon for a prize-winning squash.

"Let me see them," Tom Smith said spinning up to sit at the edge of his bed. The video player was old enough that you could no longer read the brand name, and Smith couldn't remember what it was himself. Not that it mattered anymore anyway. The twenty-four pack of batteries was almost empty, the four batteries representing the last of a fading memory.

Smith shook the batteries into his hand and rolled one over and over in his fingers. He kept going back to the expiration date message glaring up at him. March 2018. It was time.

He had made the twins wait for their birthday each year, which was just before the new year, but he didn't expect this final set of batteries to last another nine months. He also wanted to give them any kind of special treat he could since they were far and few between now. He flipped over the video player, opened the battery cover and snapped in the first AA, and William handed him each battery in succession until they were all in place. Smith unfolded it on his lap and wiped the screen with his bed sheet. He bit his lower lip with a pang of doubt and pressed the power button.

The screen lit dimly with its usual half glow. The video player paused noiselessly for a few beats and then the DVD logo shone in the center of the screen with a triumphant little brrrrrring! It was going to work. Thankfully.

William and Amber pulled themselves onto the bed and stood on their knees behind Smith, their little chins resting on each of his shoulders. "Our house!" Amber shouted happily. "And Frosty." Their little white terrier bounded up the sidewalk to the top of the screen away from the camera and hopped up the steps onto the front porch. Yellow tulips lined the walkway, and the blue siding looked sparkling new compared to the drab, charred shells surrounding the house they huddled into now.

"Frosty, go tell the kids we're home," Smith heard himself say. "They're going to be so surprised." The picture swung in an erratic motion as the door opened and Frosty barked excitedly announcing their arrival. "Happy Birthday!" Smith said from behind the camera. The on-screen William and Amber spun around in their chairs at the kitchen table and radiated huge smiles.

"Hi, Daddy!" William said. "Amber, he has our birthday surprise!" William and his sister came running around the counter towards the camera.

"That's right," Smith assured him. "Every Smith gets an extra special surprise when he or she turns five. It's tradition!"

"Can we see it?" they both asked. Smith chuckled to himself. Even then they were thinking and speaking as one person.

"Wait for me!" a woman's voice reminded them all from off camera. The familiar lump in Smith's throat rose up in a bitter greeting, and it was only topped by the hollowness carving away at the deep hollows of his stomach. His wife, Angela, came around the corner from the hallway putting on her shoes as she walked. The camera focused on her feet for an instant, and then panned up and zoomed out to show her standing there smiling with a smart "you forgot something" look and her hand on her hips. Smith remembered that sun dress; its white woven cotton and multicolored polka dots seemed to glow along her back's slender curve until it was outdone by her soft-curled, blonde hair. She always seem to float imperceptably off the floor when she walked, and almost on her tip toes like a dancer.

"Mommy." That's all Amber needed to say for all of them.

"Come on, it's outside," Smith said back on the screen, and all five of them headed back outside to the garage. When they got inside it was dark and Smith instructed them, "Okay, close your eyes." After a few seconds he turned on the lights and called out, "Okay, open them!"

The screen showed William and Amber blink a few times and dart their eyes from side to side around the room. In the corner behind them sat two bright silver bikes with big red bows on the handlebars. They both shrieked and seemed to shoot across the garage two inches above the floor, and they climbed on checking out their new bikes. They were chattering to each other and Smith couldn't quite make out what they were saying since they were so excited.

"Now remember," their mother told them. This was Smith's favorite part. Five years later he still felt his eyes welling up as he watched. This was the only way he could see her again. She smiled towards the screen and gave Smith the wink he always loved. Amber squeezed his shoulder tighter. "These bikes aren't just toys. They're your new responsibility, and you — "

The picture blinked off and on, froze silently for a bit, and the screen went black. "No!" William protested. "Bring her back!"

Smith shook the video player instinctively and lifted it up to look at the bottom. The battery cover was in place, but the power indicator light was as dark as the screen. "I think the batteries were just too old," he said to them. "I'm so sorry. At least we got to see her for a little bit."

"It's not fair," Amber said, and started crying. "The world's never fair."

Smith couldn't disagree with her. The void in his stomach started to refill and swelled up with his own disappointment. He pulled them both around onto his lap and hugged them as tightly as he could. Without realizing he had done it, he felt himself rocking them as if it would help.

"Do you think we'll be able to find another package of batteries somewhere?" Amber asked.

"Oh, I think so. I think so." Smith hated lying to his daughter.