The Vase

People think of parenting in many ways, whether that be as a challenge, a blessing, a purpose, or a burden. Derrick Patterson thought of it as a game. Of course, the Pattersons weren’t a family in the traditional sense; every six years, Derrick Patterson would adopt a new group of four twelve-year-olds. 

Like every good game, parenting had rules and a goal. The goal was to avoid being sent back to the orphanage. Being sent back meant you were out. Being sent back meant you had failed. 

The rules were also fairly simple. In a previous pre-retirement life, Derrick had been a judge, and a good enough one to retire early enough to play this game over and over again. He believed that this made him more objective than the average parent. Each of the four new twelve-year-olds would start out being given the same set of circumstances. They were all sent to the same school; all allowed one extracurricular activity that piqued their interest; and all, at least initially, given the same amount of love by Derrick Patterson. The children would hone whatever passion they had as much as they could and become the most successful they could be. Derrick was not an idiot. He knew not to judge a tree for its hibernating ability and refused to judge his children, or “contestants” as he called them, by any sort of benchmark. 

This arrangement would stay unchanged until the next phase of the game. Derrick Patterson, having been a judge, found no reason to allow himself to fall to bias after the game had begun. He reasoned that those children he favored had earned his favor and that it was all part of the game. All is fair in love, war, and the game. Eventually, after six months, Derrick would “objectively” judge how successful each child was in their passion. The least satisfactory member would be taken back to the orphanage. Derrick found it amusing to not tell the contestants about the consequences of the game until they saw it for themselves. He supposed it gave the game a fun twist. 

Isaac did nothing. He did absolutely nothing, and he liked doing absolutely nothing. In fact, his “passion” was to do the opposite of what was expected of him, which was often something, the opposite of which is nothing. Because of this, he was often beaten by the nuns at St. Patrick’s Home for Lost and Abandoned Children (it was a different time back then). He was often starved as well, which was no matter because he was likable. Children at that young of an age are often in admiration of rebellious activity. The other boys in his room would sneak extra slops of lukewarm oatmeal and ancient, stale grits into their pockets to nourish him later. By happenstance, Isaac was just the right age at just the right year for economically comfortable Derrick Patterson to adopt him. Isaac was more excited than he let in on: he hated beatings and being starved.

Derrick didn’t like to observe his contestants for the first few months of the game. It weeded out the losers who were not “in it to win it” as they said on Derrick’s favorite game show, Wheel See Who Wins. He took this time to do what unoriginal and boring retired people do, reading newspapers, stacking interesting rocks in his garden, and birdwatching (which isn’t unoriginal or boring). By the time six months rolled around, it was clear to Derrick who he would be returning to the orphanage. Derrick rounded up his contestants. Really, this was a formality; Isaac had not shown the least bit of effort at the game. He explained that the game had been going on since they first stepped foot in Derrick’s house. He informed them round one was over, and asked each of them what area they were competing in.

“Disobedience,” Isaac answered.

“Come again?”

“Disobedience.”

And that was that. Of course, Derrick’s first instinct was to declare nonsense and drive him to the orphanage, but how could he? The rules of the game didn’t restrict anyone’s passion; Derrick had ruled so to avoid any bias in the game. All passions were given inalienable rights, no matter how undeserving they were in Derrick’s eyes. And so aspiring artist Eugene was driven (dragged, really) back to the orphanage. Stick figures? Really? There always were those who didn’t understand the stakes. 

More months passed, and it became time to eliminate from round two. Again, it was obvious to Derrick who would be eliminated. Patricia had not attended lacrosse practice for the past two months and, despite the numerous emails ranging from concerned to angered he received from Coach Johnson, Derrick had not even brought it up with her. The dealers deal and the hosts host, but neither makes it their job to help the contestants. Unless one is watching that absurd Bachelor show. That did not count as true game-show television. 

“Patricia, you are done.”

“Ok.” 

She shrugged. Derrick was confused. “You are going back to the orphanage.”

“I know.”

She went back to the orphanage. Derrick was puzzled. Patricia had done so well the first round. He made it a rule for himself to only watch matches and recitals from a distance, not allowing the contestants to know of his presence. She truly had dominated that field. However, while cleaning out Patricia’s room, he found letters—correspondences between her and Isaac. Now this was interesting. Some were useless letters of flirtatious nature and others were inquisitions about sand for whatever reason, but there was a series of letters that stood out. Isaac had convinced Patricia to join his revolution. Swept up in ideals of justice against a “flawed” system and rebellious spark, Patricia had effectively quit lacrosse—and quit the game. Derrick decided not to bring this up with Isaac, but he would without a doubt be receiving points for it. Individual disobedience was one thing, but organized disobedience was another. Derrick could not help but applaud the young man’s resolve. 

Two were now left, and Derrick made sure to observe the two closely, perhaps even closer than he had ever observed any group of contestants previously. Rebecca continued to hone her aptitude with coding, mastering all sorts of languages. In fact, her advancement with coding was so steep that Derrick himself had to begin studying coding to keep up. Ah-ha! Rebecca seemed in a position to oust Isaac. In an unbiased manner, he could not help but feel a tad excited. The system and the game would always best anomalies like Isaac.

Days turned to months, and months turned to six new ones. It was time. Derrick called both children into the living room. He had a poorly hidden smug smirk spreading across his face. This poorly hidden smug smirk contorted into an expression of confusion when Isaac waddled gingerly into the room, a massive vase in his arms. A splash of warm colors sat in a sea at the bottom of the vase with fingers of the hues reaching up toward the rim. The glass itself waved around itself like a river, the handle weaved elegantly into the side of the vase. When it was brought into the well-lit room, it sparkled and sent rays of vibrant light, engulfing the room in a rainbow. Rebecca walked in, too. 

Derrick tried to maintain his composure. “Isaac, the point of the game is for you to improve at your passion throughout each phase of the game. You have not and so—”

“But I have. Vase.”

“Excuse me but what does the vase have to do with disobedience?”

“Glass-blowing isn’t my passion. I mastered it anyway. Mastered a passion that isn’t mine.”

“Yes, but—”

“Showed rules I’m great without them.”

“Oh.”

Derrick thought for a bit. The young man was right. This was truly unorthodox, yet truly within the nature of the game. The idea of the game was to help the contestants strive in their passions, no matter what they were. Isaac had. Rebecca had, too, but there were others in the world who were better than Rebecca, others in the world who thought like Rebecca. He had met no one like Isaac. Then Derrick realized that he had been thinking for too long.

Derrick stood and took Rebecca by the arm. He led her to the garage. He wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and pulled it open, leading her inside. He opened the garage door. Derrick looked back at Isaac once more before getting in the car. 

“Congratulations Isaac. You win.”