A Patent Lie (3)

“Cedric?”

My heart sank at the sound of her hoarse voice, as if she had cried herself to exhaustion that night. I paused, one foot still in the doorway as my gaze took in the cold, empty kitchen. Jeremy would be in bed. “Evening, mama…erm, you are still up,” I said, closing the door quietly.

She gasped and rose quickly, the old chair scraping against the floorboards noisily. Her hands caught my chin, turning it this way and that, a frown forming on her face. “What happened?”

I pulled away gently from her grasp. “It's nothing—”

“What do you mean ‘nothing’? You're bleeding.”

I sighed, needing my bed desperately to hide my shame and throbbing head. “It was only a scuffle and meant nothing. Men blow off steam this way, sometimes.”

She scoffed, her eyes sad. “Men. You're still a boy.” I moved past her saying nothing yet the words hit harder than Vaughn's fists. If I had truly been a man, this house would not be cold and empty like this. Then she would see me as a man and not a boy.

“There's no food left,” she said, her voice soft and unsure. “Jeremy ate the last meal. I don't know what we'll do tomorrow….” Her voice trailed off and I turned to look at her. Her eyes were lowered, shiny with unshed tears. “Your father never let it come to this.”

The words settled heavily between us. The creaking of the house and clanging pipes filled the silence.

“He isn't here anymore, mama. I'll manage it,” I said and not unkindly.

“How? Archie barely pays you and works you like a mule from dawn to dusk and sends you home with scraps.”

“But it's honest work, mama.” Those words felt heavy like stones in my mouth.

“And honesty doesn't fill stomachs,” she snapped, expressing my thoughts then caught herself. “I'm sorry….I didn't mean—”

I held her hands and squeezed. “I know what you mean. I'll bring something tomorrow.” Her eyes brightened for a second as she studied me. Then she nodded and my chest felt light from the confidence in her gaze.

“Go on then. Get some rest. You have to get up early.”

But sleep never came. My thoughts returned to Vaughn, Cal and their friends.

I hope you enjoyed reading this Dicken's style short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "patent lie".

Thank you for visiting my blog.

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