White Space Season 1

for how long had something been wrong? The sting of guilt for not noticing was sharp. While their family was relatively close, especially compared to other families Alex knew, it wasn’t like they had real conversations, at least not many that went more than a few inches below the surface. Alex was wrapped up in his own world, with his own problems, and rarely allowed his parents a glimpse inside, or looked beyond his to see into their worlds.
    If things were different, would he have seen the signs?
    Could he have prevented the massacre?
    The TV returned to a scene outside one of the funerals. Alex lowered the volume, stared at his cell phone, then dialed Milo again.
    Still no answer.
    He left a voicemail. His fourth.
    “Please, Milo. Call me. I need to talk to someone,” he said, trying not to cry.
    He hung up, feeling stupid for talking about his needs , when Jessica, the girl Milo had a big crush on, was dead, and their closest friend, Manny, was in the hospital in a coma and on life support.
    As long as he’d been friends with Milo, Alex had been the more popular of the two. Milo had always been his nerdy sidekick. But he loved the guy like a brother. Milo was hysterical, and into the same games, movies, and stuff Alex liked. He was the perfect hangout buddy, never too serious, never depressing, despite his family problems, and almost always around. Perhaps the coolest thing about Milo, was that he was an awesome writing partner. The two had written several scripts together, TV shows and movies they hoped to someday pitch to Hollywood. But suddenly, none of that mattered.
    Whatever friendship they had was severed by the inexplicable actions of Alex’s dad.
    Alex considered calling Jesus, Manny’s brother, to get an update on Manny’s situation beyond the TV reports. But Alex figured that he was the last person in the world that Jesus, or his family, wanted to hear from.
    He set the phone on his bed and crawled under his covers, listening to the soft white noise bleeding through the baby monitor. His six month old sister murmured in her sleep, and he hoped she wasn’t gonna wake up soon. Aubrey was too young to understand that “Daddy is in heaven,” and kept looking for their father, waiting for him to come back home. It broke Alex’s heart, and he wasn’t very good at comforting his sister. At least if his mom were there, she could cuddle with Aubrey and distract her.
    Alex felt a flash of anger at his father.
    How could he do this? To his students? To his family?
    But as soon as the flash came, Alex felt more guilt.
    His father wouldn’t do this. Something must’ve been wrong with him. There was no other explanation.
    Alex closed his eyes, exhausted.
    He needed a nap.
    He rested his head on a pillow, but only for a minute before the itch at the back of his head worked its way forward and forced him to his feet.

    Alex opened the door to his father’s office and flicked on the overhead light. He stepped inside, picturing his dad sitting behind his desk, facing the doorway, looking up from his work and smiling. He hadn’t always smiled when interrupted; most times, he was too busy to even look up. But Alex chose to remember the times he had looked up, happy to see him.
    The office was a disaster. The cops had tossed books from shelves, dumped boxes unceremoniously onto the ground, and pulled all the drawers out of his desk, leaving them sitting in a pile. Wires and cables were tangled atop his desk where his father had his computer set up so neatly just a few days ago.
    The office looked like it had been robbed. And in a way, it had been, of everything his father had created.
    Alex felt a sudden rage at the cops for leaving this mess for him and his mother to clean.
    He grabbed one of the empty cardboard boxes that had been in the closet loaded with files and school paperwork, then sat on the ground and started putting stuff away. He didn’t know what he could do to help his mom through this, but there was no reason she should have to clean the cops’ mess. And maybe, if the cops hadn’t taken everything important, Alex might find some answer to why his father snapped.

    He’d been cleaning for about 20 minutes, and had gotten through the bulk of the mess, putting it into boxes and books back onto the bookcase. He wasn’t sure what they would do with all of his dad’s stuff.
    There was something so alien about a person’s possessions once that person was gone. It was almost as if they took