Forty-Eight Degrees of Ilse Reynders
+ CODE

Forty-Eight Degrees of Ilse Reynders


Asterisk43.png

James heard the sound again.

It was sort of like the sound Baba Jay made when they put their finger in their cheek and pulled it out again, to make him laugh. A loud pop. He knew what it meant — though he didn't hear it very often — but this time it sounded different. There was a kind of crack inside the pop.

It reminded him of Rice Krispies.

But he set down his Switch on the bed, hopped off, and went to greet his mother anyway.

Mama Ilse was…

Mama Ilse was in the kitchen, but she was also different. Dressed funny. She always wore normal shirts in normal colours, but now she was dressed… Not fancy, but weird.

She noticed him. She smiled. Her smile was different, too. "Hello."

48Freaky.png

He waved. "Hello."

"What's your name?"

He felt something strange in his tummy. His eyes started to water. "You know who I am, Mama Ilse."

Her big, big blue eyes widened. "Of course I do, sweetie." She'd never called him that before. "But we're playing a game today. We're playing pretend."

Now his eyes widened. He didn't think Mama Ilse knew what it meant to play, not really. He tried to show her. He showed her his Pokémon. She bought him LEGO, and he made her put it together for him. But she really didn't see the point, he thought. And she never, ever played pretend.

"Okay," he said, because that was what Baba Jay had told him to say when Mama Ilse told him to do something.

She looked around the bungalow for a moment, like she was seeing it for the first time. Maybe she was getting better at pretend. Maybe she'd been doing research. She did research whenever she found something she wasn't good at. James understood research to be something between homework and chores. "Are you alone here, little boy?"

He shook his head. "Baba Jay is in the garden."

Mama Ilse looked upset. James felt the feeling in his stomach getting worse. What had he said to make them sad? Was this still pretend?

She tried to cover it up with a smile, the way adults always thought would work but never did. "Okay. Okay, then. What's your name?"

"James."

"That's a nice name. You can call me Lys."

James frowned. "I don't know that name."

Mama Ilse frowned, too. "Really? Nobody ever told you about me? I was very important, a long time ago."

James shrugged. He was already getting tired of this game. He wanted Mama Ilse to stop pretending, and go back to being Mama Ilse.

"How old are you, James?"

"I'm six years old," he said. "But not really."

Now Mama Ilse looked confused. "Not really?"

"I'm always six years old."

"Always?"

"Always."

"Wow." She thought about that for a moment. "Do you like it?"

It was James' turn to think. "I don't know. I don't know any different."

"Hmm." Mama Ilse reached into their strange clothes and pulled out a strange box. They walked towards him and waved it up and down. It beeped a few times, and their eyes got even wider. "Wow. You're a very special little boy, James. We're like two of a kind."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we're forever." She crouched down in front of him. He thought she might ruffle his hair, but she didn't. She seemed afraid to get too close to him. "But forever is a long, long time. I could fix it, maybe, if you want."

The tears came back. "You said…" James swallowed. "Mama Ilse said there's nothing wrong with me. She said we're just the way we are."

"She would." Now Mama Ilse looked angry… No. Lys looked angry. She didn't look very much like Mama Ilse at all, up close. The face was the same, but not the same. And Mama Ilse almost never got angry. "She probably thinks things turn out for the best, in the fullness of time. You want to know a secret?" She winked. "She's right, but not the way she thinks."

James stared at her. "Do you want to play something different?" He turned to look at the hall to his bedroom. Where everything made sense. Where everything was safe. "Do you want to play—"

"I'm done playing." Mama Ilse stood up straight again, and took a step back. "Just think about what I said, okay? Nobody gets to decide what's really you, except for you."

And with a pop, and a nasty crack, she was gone.

And with a pop, she was back. But she was different, again. Different different.

48Peaky.png

She crouched down in front of him again, ruffled his hair, and said: "Was I just here?"

Confused, he nodded.

She leaned forward and, to his shock, kissed him on the forehead. She'd never done that before. "You tell me. You tell me as soon as you see me again, okay? And if you see… any me… any time…"

She looked into his eyes, like the end of her sentence could be found somewhere inside of his head.

"…you ask her why Miltank is so scary." She ruffled his hair again. "And if I don't know, you tell Baba Jay."

James wanted to cry, but he didn't. Mama Ilse thought this was important, and he was supposed to do what Mama Ilse said. "Okay. But what if you're playing pretend?"

They smiled at him, and it was a real smile. "I never pretend with you, kiddo." Then they kissed him on the forehead. "Say hi to your moms for me." Then pop they were gone, too.

And the front door opened, and Mama Ilse walked in. James heard the screen door to the back lawn unlatch, and turned to see Baba Jay coming inside too. He looked back and forth between them, uncertain.

"What's up, little man?" Baba Jay washed their hands in the sink. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

James took a deep breath, and turned to where Mama Ilse was standing awkwardly at the door, like she still wasn't sure she belonged here. "What's so scary about Miltank?" he challenged her.

Mama Ilse blinked, then smiled. "Rollout," she said, and winced with embarrassment at Baba Jay.

James pointed at her, tugged on Baba Jay's shirt, and said "That's my Mama Ilse."

He didn't know why that would make them both cry. But they were smiling, too, so he figured he must not be in trouble.

48Deaky.png

‡ Licensing / Citation
_cc_licenseboxdoctor-everwooddoctor-reyndersillustratedon-guard-43researcher-jamestale
page revision: 6, last edited: 01 Jul 2026 06:31
Edit Rate (+47) Tags Discuss (7) History Files Print Site tools + Options
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License