Monday, July 12, 2010

THE GOOD MOTHER

“You sure?”
“He has her lips”, he observed. “Don’t you-”
“You look at her lips?”
“Oh, don’t tell me-”
“I’m positive.”

And he pulled out a page from a magazine folded into eighths from inside his pocket, unfurled it for him to see and held it beside the face of the one in focus, who closed his eyes, unable to bear the effect anymore.

“See?”
“Wow.”
“This is insane…” he remarked.

He turned to leave, apparently having had enough of the whole thing, seeing it was no fire-drill for him to get out of it unscathed. There were emotions (as ironical as it could sound) and emotions can get hurt wherever they exist, needless to say. He was addressed before he fled the scene, forced to turn around fighting tears of frustration.

“Can you…?”

He was extended a pen along with the piece of paper, now back to being folded. What was intended needn’t be said for it was more than understood. They stood up to leave.

“So…” the politer one hesitated. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

The boy looked down, biting his lower lip.

xxxxxxxx

“So… Good day today?”
“Mhmm.”
“That’s nice to know.”

He stopped for a moment before he made a move on it, thinking he could probably lie to them the next day saying she refused. But maybe the world knew more about her than he did so he decided to give it to her all the same, a nicety in gratitude to her for collecting him from school that day. He thrust his hand down his pants.

“Mom”, he said.

She knew what was to happen for she didn’t quite seem alien to the whole thing. She sighed.

“Honey”, she shook her head, squeezing her brow (or what was left of it). “Haven’t I-?”
“I swear…” he said, handing the pen and the page to her. “I haven’t seen it.”

She took it in hand, a worried look playing around her eyes. It wasn’t the first time that she had felt that particular piece of paper in hand. It wasn’t the first time she had seen what was on it either. She almost smiled.

xxxxxxxx

“I’ll be back in a couple, love”, she said as she dropped him home. “Take care.”

The boy tucked the page (that now had her clothed in her autograph and a pair of hearts) back where he brought it out from and as he walked towards home, the door was slammed shut and the car sped out through the gate. There was quite a bout of silence before she exclaimed, looking at her watch.

“Shit!” she said. “I’m late.”

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