He sat on the back stoop under the spot light huddled up in a ball, shivering.
Stupid jacket, he thought, not warm enough.
His voice raw from rehearsal, no gloves, no hat, his ears were frozen.
He tried to wiggle his toes in his converse high tops.
It must have been way below zero that frigid week night in January.
Where are they, he wondered.Why had they locked me out.
Mr. Roberts had been especially cruel keeping them so late at practice. It must be well after eleven by now. He was suppose to be home by ten.
Still, they must be inside, he worried.
The red car sat in the drive, locked. He had tried the doors twice.
He pounded on the back door glass. Peering in he could see that the inside door was shut as well. Shit, shit, shit. He kicked the door with each word. Nothing. No one came to let him in. No lights came on. Was the bell frozen?
The wind rattled the dull plastic his dad had stapled on the outside of the tall picture windows. It had been at her insistence, To expensive to heat, so she liked to keep the back room closed up and the heat off. The brittle plastic laughed back at him.
He sat back down on the cement stoop and pulled his legs up to his chest. The lyrics crept back in his mind, To lay a loft in a howling breeze...with his Nancy on his knee. Nancy...more like Dotty. They had to be in there...screwing. "Yo ho." He cried aloud.
The spot turned off.
Tears welled up in his eyes, he was beyond mad. Why won't they let me in. His whole body shivered uncontrollably. He couldn't stop it.
To sit in solemn silence in a dull dark dock...a big black block...damn it.
He jumped up, the motion sensor turned the warm spot back on.
If he stood on the top step he could just reach the light with his frozen hands.
"What a tyrant." he said out loud. "Stupid play. Stupid part."
He leaned on the door bell with his hip. He had already rung the bell a hundred times, both front and back. His shoes were wet after trudging through the knee high snow around to their bedroom window. It didn't matter he had to get his fingers warm. Stupid, this must look stupid. No response.
He sat back down. A wandering Minstrel I a thing of shreds and patches. Oh sorrow oh sorrow.
"I'm going to quit tomorrow. I quit stupid Nanki Poo." He shouted out loud. The words froze in mid air as the door lock clicked and pulled open.
He spilled backwards in.
"You're late, where have you been?" She said her hair all a muss. The blue night gown clung to her body oddly. Her face ruddy from lust, she held one arm across her chest modestly.
"Where have I been? Where have I been?" He croaked back the second time louder as he stood up to face her. Wiping his nose on his icy sleeve he dared, "Where have you been?" He shot back his first words of defiance and hurried past her on his way to his room not waiting for her shameless answer.
"We'll talk about this tomorrow young man. Go to bed."
With loving song and merry dance. He thought as he slammed the door and climbed under the covers to thaw.
It was almost midnight.
2012 (c) tgwithin
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Comments
This was a punch to the gut.
You took me there in the first few lines....
The total sadness and desperation was clear and vivid.
Well done indeed.
~R~
M.C.S. A strong cup of GO for this one I hope. Thank you I think?
Ger, one frigid ironic lesson learned that day...poor kid. :D
Thank you for sharing .
Rated
Compelling read.
I think we all have only three options with our mothers: they are angels, they are witches or they are whores. There's rarely any space in the middle.
Thanks Heidi glad you found me!
Thanks again Neo for all your wonderful support and inspiration.
Spike and Scarlett...I've done my job then!
And then there's step monsters Al...they seem to be some of all the above. Ha! :D
R+