I opened my eyes. Damn it! It’s already morning.

  I jumped off my bed, opened the windows and smelled the air. By the scent of the fresh dew, it had to have been 8:35.

  “Shit.”

  I started to run out the door, but stopped halfway.

  What time were they supposed to leave? They probably had about a few hours left, which means they probably left a while ago. Ma and Pa always left earlier than usual for special occasions; usually because they are too excited to sit around and wait.

  They sure as hell got up early for it.

  How did cruise ships work? How early are you supposed to be there? It’s gotta be like an airport- gotta be there 2 -3 hours early? No way Pa didn’t know that, but he does tend to sleep in, or let Ma sleep in.

  So either they left way too soon, or they didn’t, and they missed their flight- not their flight, their cruise- which meant they missed their cruise, which meant they spent 1230.59 Pines PLUS TAX for no reason. How early are you supposed to get to a cruise? 2 hours? 3 hours? I already asked this but I just don’t know! It’s a boat! Is that different! Does the sea make it slower so you have to show up earlier or something-

  Damn it, damn it! Panic about one thing at a time!

  I grab my phone, rush to the kitchen- no, I should brush my teeth first. I go back and rush to the bathroom- NO! That doesn’t matter! They may have left already.

  Wait, I can just call her later. I can handle six months of them being gone, but without a goodbye? I don’t really care about the mushy gushy shit but I mean, a quick hug wouldn’t hurt. Brush teeth first? I can call her, I don’t need to brush for that!

  I run back to my room, grab my phone-

  “Michael! You better not be leaving the water on!”

  “And don’t run! You might trip on something!”

  A pause. Relief.

  I went over to the banister (rushed back up to turn the water off) and looked down. Turns out, they were downstairs, watching the weather. Pa, a big Grizzly with old brown fur and was standing there, giving the TV the most serious commander stance - feet wide apart with his paws behind his back. Like he was daring the weatherman to lie to him.

  He always had this look whenever he went somewhere. Listening to the intricacies of the weather and making sure he didn’t get anything wrong. Pa hated a bad weather day, and got hilariously angry when it happened. Of course, it was easily fixed with a quick trip to some bar, regardless of the beverages.

  Ma’s on the couch, pulling her little yarn into loops that wasn’t knitting and wasn’t sewing and I forgot what it was called.

  “Honey, back away from the TV.”

  “70’s. 75. 84. 85. It’s gonna be a beautiful week, sweetie!”

  “Yes, I know! You’ve been saying this all week! Hi, sweetie.”

  “Hi, Ma, I thought you left.” I ask, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  “No, sweetie, we have a few hour-”

  “3 hours and 45 minutes! Which means we have about 1 hour and 20 minutes before we have to leave.”

  “And everything is already packed up?”

  “You helped us last night!” She remarked.

  “Yeah, but I’m just making sure you have your valuables, like money and passports and boots and stuff.”

  Her eyes furrowed into a worried look. “Oh did we wake you with the boots situation, hun?”

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  “No, Ma, I like-”

  “You know he could hear things in his dreams, right?” He surrounded me in a big hug- the really close and loving one he gives whenever he’s about to leave. It was comforting, and made me forget about the possibility of the whole thing sinking into the ocean and leaving me without parents again.

  “He probably had those sci fi dreams with the aliens and the spaceships and the-”

  “Planets and stuff like that.”

  “Probably about a war, yeah?”

  “Yeah, it was a bit like that.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry hun.” Ma interrupted.

  “No, Ma, It’s fine. It wasn’t like a nightmare or anything.”

  I thought for a minute how to form my words.

  “Like… it’s like… hmm.”

  “Start from the simplest part, sweetie.” Ma spoke.

  “Ok… it’s a water versus desert sort of situation. They had your words but they were arguing about a lot more than that. Like, something between their people. It was kind of weird, really. Like, I guess, something is broken and they have to work together to protect each other, but-”

  “All over some boots, huh?”

  “Such a shame.” Ma shakes her head. “Bearfolk war over anything.”

  “They’re good boots, dear! Which speaking of- I bet-” He starts half jogging to the steps. “I bet they’re in the

  “They're in the car- honey! Check the front- Oh, what the heck.”

  “He still thinks it’s in his bag?”

  “He thinks he can smell it from a mile away.” She holds my hands in hers. “Tell me more about your story, dear.”

  I smile. “Well, the boots meant protection- or, at least, that’s what I related to it. You two were talking about boots, but in the dream, the boots meant something. They needed it to survive, but they had to work together and if they didn’t, then both worlds would be destroyed.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t get to that part of the dream.” I mused. “But they hugged in the end, and when they did, all the mud and sand started swirling together, like something ominous was going on.”

  “But if they worked together, shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

  “Yeah, but I think there was something much deeper going on, like-”

  I tried to think of something creative; something that would really spark a feeling of mystery and intrigue. Ma loved sci-fi novels. Sure, they usually had A LOT of romance, but she really loved- what did she call it? - the whole “Aliens and spaceships and all the fun things.” She thought it was cool, and did ever since she was a kid. It’s how I got into it.

  If I could just make a convincing story- find the right connection between the shoes and the world, the power struggles and the politics of it all underneath, then maybe I could-

  “Oh, I would love to read that!” She squealed, which made my heart feel really floaty, happy, and a bit confused.

  “Two worlds having to overcome their differences to battle one evil! That's- they are battling one evil right?”

  “Yeah. It’s like, some looming force that is bearing down on them and they can’t defend it on their own. Each world has their own weaknesses and can only be strong if they work together, so they have to overcome their differences, you know.”

  “They’re not in the back seat!”

  “Yes, darling! I know!”

  “But one is too hot to handle, and the other is too cold to hold?” Pa retorts, laughing and laughing like it was the funniest thing he has ever heard.

  “...I mean, yeah?”

  “That’s too old for him, darling.”

  “It does work, though.” I responded. “It’s actually perfect! One is too ready for action, the other is too…like…up their own asses to fight at all.”

  “Haha! So it’s perfect for everyone to understand!”

  “Pa, it’s not in the kitchen either!”

  “You never know until you check! I think I could have left it in this closet!”

  “What is he doing in the kitchen?” I start to walk over.

  “Could you-” She interrupts kindly, “help me with my crochet materials, dear?”

  I step back. “Yeah, sure.” I sit with her on the couch and place all her hooks and other items in the bag.

  “Some of the best stories connect the soul to life more than any textbook or even a teacher could do.” Ma spoke, slowly tying up her crochet materials. “If you can connect the two together, people will remember your story for generations. Even if it is just one person - someone’s whole world is going to be changed.”

  It was a nice thought. The whole world is getting to know my story. Of course, it was what I wanted. It’s what every writer wants, except the few exceptions.

  If only that was how the real world worked. You could work on something for years, and no one would notice. They wouldn’t even care, unless someone slapped a fresh stack of cliches and dumb messages about stupid shit that has no connection and all of a sudden you’re famous. No, even worse. They’re famous! They make your story about them, and you watch as- not only does the world think your story is theirs, but also get tricked by this impalpable, fake, and ugly version of your life. What was supposed to change the world makes it stay the same, despite what you tried to do, and you can’t do much about it except watch it fall.

  And what’s worse, you can’t tell people it was your story. Bears think you’re the shitty bear. You’re the one who made the crappy version of a useless story. So you look like the idiot, the blind asshole who thought a story about two world fighting needed to have fifteen sex scenes, unnecessary miscommunications, and so much useless shit I couldn’t even think about it without getting mad.

  I want to make Ma and Pa proud by showing it could be easier, but that just wasn’t true. Not at all.

  “Now how would you write it?”

  “I mean that’s- that’s easy. I could just write it, but I already have so many ideas.”

  “Then just merge it into another story.” She smiles. “But you’re not gonna be able to do that if you don’t have anything to write with.”

  What? I laugh uncomfortably. “Ma, I have my laptop. I can just write it when I need-”

  “Oh, you mean-” Pa shows up with just the biggest grin on his face. And a big, bright blue box. “This laptop!?”