Arthur James Cuttingham's Logs

[ASimpleMan]

INCOMING TRANSMISSION...RECIEVED
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Name & Location: Arthur James Cuttingham; Port Charles, Planet New London, New London

Date: December 14, 784 A.S.

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FIRST LOG

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A young boy walked and paced around his room. It was a large, spacious room inside of a large mansion. The boy's name was Arthur Cuttingham. Not to be confused with the name Cunningham. After pacing about, he sat down at his desk in the corner of the room. He stared outside the window. It was Arthur's seventh birthday, and he was not having any fun. He had just started Primary School, and was in Grade 1. He had to go to school tomorrow, the thought of which eroded at his senses. But it wasn't just the longing of staying home. He had longed for a father.

Arthur lived with his mother for all of his life. He'd never met his father, who was James Cuttingham. His mother, Sarah Cuttingham, said that his father was fighting in the Bretonia Armed Forces, and was a great war hero for his country. Arthur had always been inspired at the thought of this, and thus wanted to fly. His mother, however, knew how dangerous SIrius was, and so did not want Arthur flying. This depressed him, since his newly found friends at Northampton Primary School were already flying about the House of Bretonia. But his father had left before they could've met, or let alone remembered each other. Arthur stared outside with his head resting on his hands, and saw his friends playing catch with their fathers. A tear formed in his eye.

"Why can't I have a dad. Why do they get to have 'em," he mumbled as he sniffled. The kids outside were having the time of their lives, and he was sitting alone in his room on his special day. He muttered under his breath, "All of my friends have birthday parties. Why don't I get to have one?" His mother had said that if they were to have a party, they couldn't control the kids because of the sheer size of the house. The size of the house was 1672 square meters, or 18,000 square feet. They lived in a massive mansion, but couldn't have anyone over. It baffled him. On his birthday, he usually went out somewhere special with his mother and they did something, but today he was not feeling it.

His mother was lingering outside the door the entire time, and heard the sniffles and his talking. She knocked on his door, which didn't have a lock. "Come in," he said. She walked in, and saw his red eyes and he sniffled. "Honey, what's wrong? It's your birthday, why are you crying?" she asked, wiping the tears off of his cheeks. He broke down. "Where is dad? Why can't I have a dad?" These words tore her apart. She didn't know what to say, for there wasn't anything that could be said or done. Arthur thought of his father every birthday that he could remember. "Well, you have a dad. He will always be here, with you." She pointed to his chest; his heart. He shook his head. "I've never met him. Why should he be with me?" Arthur snapped back. He turned away from her in his chair, and looked out the window. The kids and their fathers had gone, but he continued to look. She stood behind him, not really knowing what to say. But she remembered that the two of them always went out somewhere for his birthday. It made him feel better, every time. She started, "Well, since it's your birthday, why don't we go out somewhere? We could go to the Museum, or the—" "I want to see my father! Not go to a stupid museum!" he yelled, and ran to his bed and put his face into his pillows. He cried as he held his teddy bear.

She walked over to him, pulled up the desk chair, and sat down. She rubbed his back. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Someday you will meet him. I know you will," she said as she looked up. She mumbled something under her breath. Arthur wondered how long that would take. He felt as though a fundamental piece of childhood was being stripped from him, and he wanted that piece back. He didn't understand why his father couldn't come home often. There wasn't a war going on! But nevertheless, he still lay there, with his face in his pillows. She moved towards the door and sat there in the doorway, leaning against it. She spoke softly. "Well, I'm going to go downstairs, sweetie. You can come down and we can still go somewhere. You always get like this around your birthday, Arthur, and every time you do I offer you to go somewhere with me. It always cheers you up." He thought about this. What she said was true. He only had terrible birthdays because he made them terrible, not because they were terrible by default. He didn't actively think of his father being gone until a situation arose, such as seeing kids with their fathers playing catch. "Alright, I'll come down," he said, quivering from the sobbing. She smiled, and he got up, sniffling. He put his teddy bear back on his bed, and they walked downstairs. She felt as though she had failed Arthur, because her husband wasn't there to be his father figure. But it wasn't her fault. James Cuttingham had made the decision to join the BAF long ago, and had been assigned to recon missions in the deep Omegas by pure fate. He was not coming back for a long time at best.

Later that day, they went to the Port Charles Museum of Art and had ice cream. Arthur later remarked it was one of his best birthdays. But something still felt off. Something, was still missing.