Post by Jack Trove on Jan 1, 2008 19:28:22 GMT
Shirley Trove sat in the darkened dining room, an empty wine glass in her hand. Through the half-drawn blinds, the moonlight caught its surface, bleaching it white. She watched it; drawn in by its light, tilting it this way and that as she watched its light move across the glass. And Jack watched her, also in silence, wondering if she even knew he was in the same room.
“Mum?”
“Isn’t that pretty, Jack?” she said softly; her pale grey eyes glancing up at him, catching the moonlight too. “Isn’t it just so… so… pretty?”
He smiled briefly at her, sliding down at the table beside her. He looked around at the lights, and then back at her. “Should I switch them on?”
“No, no,” she shushed him. “No, look, Jack. I want to look.”
“I want to talk.”
She jumped; her neck cracking as she sat up properly now. “You want to… to talk to me?”
“Yes, Mum,” he frowned at her. “Look… I was wondering… about when I was a kid, and you found about Dad and… that woman.”
“Oh,” she winced- apparently involuntarily. “Oh, yes. Her. What about her?”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
She stared at him. “What?”
Jack cleared his throat. “I mean… why didn’t you divorce him… like you said you would?”
“I didn’t mean that, Jack, I never meant it.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” she closed her eyes now, inhaling deeply as she set down the wine glass. “Because I love him.”
“Yeah…” Jack said slowly. “No, but… why do you…?”
A small, knowing smile stretched her lips. “You can’t explain love, Jack.”
“It’s not about love, then!” he said fiercely. “Don’t be stupid- Mum, he was cheating on you! That’s totally... totally... well, it just shouldn't happen, alright?!”
“You’re too young,” she murmured, “you don’t understand…”
“I understand perfectly well, thanks,” Jack growled, jumping up.
She stared at him, her eyes widening. “You’re going?”
“Yes,” he said shortly. “Sorry… it’s just Christmas wasn’t what I expected it to be this year…” he stopped, and sighed, “I’m going back to Orchid early.”
“God…” she dropped his gaze, her newly yellow hair falling over her face. “You sounded just like Mal… just there.”
“Mal?” Jack’s tone changed, his eyes narrowing now; suspicious. “I don’t sound like Mal. Not anymore.”
“Just… just when he was your age, I guess,” Shirley sighed. “He asked me the same question- he wasn’t happy either. Happy now, though. Maybe you’ll be happy soon too.”
Jack pulled a face. “I’ll be like him. Great.”
“You are like him!” she cried, surprised now. “Just like him- you, and your brother, and your father… all exactly the same… You all look the same… sound the same… like triplets.”
Jack’s stomach twisted sharply. “I’m not the same.”
“You know…” she said, her voice a breathy whisper now. “You know… it’s like… like I’m not even in there at all. Like I’m not even your real mother. Except-” she cocked her head- “except for your eyes. Those are my eyes.”
Jack watched his mother; his stomach still swirling; more slowly now- sickly… The moonlight seemed to shift now; a perfect reflection of it glinting in his mother’s watery grey eyes.
“Mum, my eyes are blue.”
“So are mine.” That smile was back- but wider now; stretching her lips like she was some sort of puppet. It looked painful. It was sure as hell painful to watch. “Mine are brilliantly bright and blue- sky blue; as soothing as the ocean on a sunny day- blue like… like the bluebird; blue like sapphires- beautiful, priceless sapphires… Yes, Jack. You have my eyes.”
Something in that smile forced Jack to smile back, even though he didn’t like it.
“I’m gonna go get a taxi, now, okay…?”
“Oh, dear,” the smile fell dead. “Don’t you want someone to drive you?”
“No,” he shook his head. “A taxi’s good.”
“Well, then,” she paused, and reached for her bag which she kept constantly at her feet. “I’ll give you a little something for Christmas…”
She fished out her chequebook, and Jack felt his mouth open in protest. But then… he stopped. She was giving him money. A quiet rebellion bristled in the back of Jack’s mind. It felt slightly reckless, but he honestly didn’t care. This was against his dad- not his mum.
Really, she was helping him…
And Jack was determined- despite what Mal might say- to be independent of his dad.
I'm not the same.
So this made sense.
“You just write down whatever you need, dear, and I’ll sign it,” she smiled vacantly at him, but her mind was clearly somewhere else. Jack gritted his teeth, fishing a pen out of his pocket, and wrote down the figure.
£ 1,000,000…
One million pounds…
If there’s a hell, it’s where he’s headed.
“There,” he said gruffly, shoving the cheque back at his mother. She didn’t even take a second look, scratching her name in her tiny, cramped print.
She smiled at him as she passed it back. “Take care of that now.”
He returned her smile weakly, taking the cheque, folding it, and tucking it safely in his pocket. “I will.”
“Come on then,” she sighed. “Before you go… come give your mum a hug.”
Jack walked slowly around to his mother’s side, then, still with that stupid, phony smile on his face, embraced her. He felt like he very nearly crushed her fragile frame in his arms- she seemed so small, and breakable- just like glass…
Then he let go, and left.
“Merry Christmas, Mum,” he muttered, listening to her faint voice begin to hum softly of Rudolph, and how his name went go down in history...
“Mum?”
“Isn’t that pretty, Jack?” she said softly; her pale grey eyes glancing up at him, catching the moonlight too. “Isn’t it just so… so… pretty?”
He smiled briefly at her, sliding down at the table beside her. He looked around at the lights, and then back at her. “Should I switch them on?”
“No, no,” she shushed him. “No, look, Jack. I want to look.”
“I want to talk.”
She jumped; her neck cracking as she sat up properly now. “You want to… to talk to me?”
“Yes, Mum,” he frowned at her. “Look… I was wondering… about when I was a kid, and you found about Dad and… that woman.”
“Oh,” she winced- apparently involuntarily. “Oh, yes. Her. What about her?”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
She stared at him. “What?”
Jack cleared his throat. “I mean… why didn’t you divorce him… like you said you would?”
“I didn’t mean that, Jack, I never meant it.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” she closed her eyes now, inhaling deeply as she set down the wine glass. “Because I love him.”
“Yeah…” Jack said slowly. “No, but… why do you…?”
A small, knowing smile stretched her lips. “You can’t explain love, Jack.”
“It’s not about love, then!” he said fiercely. “Don’t be stupid- Mum, he was cheating on you! That’s totally... totally... well, it just shouldn't happen, alright?!”
“You’re too young,” she murmured, “you don’t understand…”
“I understand perfectly well, thanks,” Jack growled, jumping up.
She stared at him, her eyes widening. “You’re going?”
“Yes,” he said shortly. “Sorry… it’s just Christmas wasn’t what I expected it to be this year…” he stopped, and sighed, “I’m going back to Orchid early.”
“God…” she dropped his gaze, her newly yellow hair falling over her face. “You sounded just like Mal… just there.”
“Mal?” Jack’s tone changed, his eyes narrowing now; suspicious. “I don’t sound like Mal. Not anymore.”
“Just… just when he was your age, I guess,” Shirley sighed. “He asked me the same question- he wasn’t happy either. Happy now, though. Maybe you’ll be happy soon too.”
Jack pulled a face. “I’ll be like him. Great.”
“You are like him!” she cried, surprised now. “Just like him- you, and your brother, and your father… all exactly the same… You all look the same… sound the same… like triplets.”
Jack’s stomach twisted sharply. “I’m not the same.”
“You know…” she said, her voice a breathy whisper now. “You know… it’s like… like I’m not even in there at all. Like I’m not even your real mother. Except-” she cocked her head- “except for your eyes. Those are my eyes.”
Jack watched his mother; his stomach still swirling; more slowly now- sickly… The moonlight seemed to shift now; a perfect reflection of it glinting in his mother’s watery grey eyes.
“Mum, my eyes are blue.”
“So are mine.” That smile was back- but wider now; stretching her lips like she was some sort of puppet. It looked painful. It was sure as hell painful to watch. “Mine are brilliantly bright and blue- sky blue; as soothing as the ocean on a sunny day- blue like… like the bluebird; blue like sapphires- beautiful, priceless sapphires… Yes, Jack. You have my eyes.”
Something in that smile forced Jack to smile back, even though he didn’t like it.
“I’m gonna go get a taxi, now, okay…?”
“Oh, dear,” the smile fell dead. “Don’t you want someone to drive you?”
“No,” he shook his head. “A taxi’s good.”
“Well, then,” she paused, and reached for her bag which she kept constantly at her feet. “I’ll give you a little something for Christmas…”
She fished out her chequebook, and Jack felt his mouth open in protest. But then… he stopped. She was giving him money. A quiet rebellion bristled in the back of Jack’s mind. It felt slightly reckless, but he honestly didn’t care. This was against his dad- not his mum.
Really, she was helping him…
And Jack was determined- despite what Mal might say- to be independent of his dad.
I'm not the same.
So this made sense.
“You just write down whatever you need, dear, and I’ll sign it,” she smiled vacantly at him, but her mind was clearly somewhere else. Jack gritted his teeth, fishing a pen out of his pocket, and wrote down the figure.
£ 1,000,000…
One million pounds…
If there’s a hell, it’s where he’s headed.
“There,” he said gruffly, shoving the cheque back at his mother. She didn’t even take a second look, scratching her name in her tiny, cramped print.
She smiled at him as she passed it back. “Take care of that now.”
He returned her smile weakly, taking the cheque, folding it, and tucking it safely in his pocket. “I will.”
“Come on then,” she sighed. “Before you go… come give your mum a hug.”
Jack walked slowly around to his mother’s side, then, still with that stupid, phony smile on his face, embraced her. He felt like he very nearly crushed her fragile frame in his arms- she seemed so small, and breakable- just like glass…
Then he let go, and left.
“Merry Christmas, Mum,” he muttered, listening to her faint voice begin to hum softly of Rudolph, and how his name went go down in history...
