Devlin’s Story…
Five year old Devlin curled his legs up on the hard, wooden chair, his terrified eyes watching as each of the nurses or doctors came out of the room where his mother had disappeared.
“It’s going to be okay, son,” his father said, but the white knuckles and the anxious look in his father’s eyes told another story and devlin was paying attention to the body language instead of the words. He was only five, but he already knew that people rarely told the truth. And instinctively, Devlin knew that his father was lying.
Philosophically, just so he didn’t have to think so much about his mother, he wondered if it was better when someone lied to make the other person feel better, or if a lie was still a lie. At this point, he wasn’t sure, but his mind weighed the pros and cons, taking his mind out of the sterile hospital waiting area, into the minds of others.
He went back and forth on the subject and, over the next ten hours, he came to the conclusion that a lie was still not good even if it was to protect someone, but someone who lied just to be evil was worse than someone who was trying to protect. In other words, intent counted. He wasn’t sure about many things in this world. But as the sun dipped down over the horizon and the nurses stopped looking in their direction as they moved hurriedly thorugh those double doors, he came to two conculsions. First, his mother was not going to be fine. How un-fine she was, he wasn’t exactly sure, but she definitely wasn’t okay.
And secondly, his father was doing his best, even though the truth would have been less confusing. It was hard to reconcile the worried expressions with the calming words and that confusion only increased his fears.
He watched it all though. Every movement, all the additional doctors that pushed their way into the unknown room, they all looked too serious for his mother to come out the way she’d gone in. When one doctor came out with blood, Devlin closed his mind off to the horror. That wasn’t his mother’s blood, he told himself, curling up into a ball in the corner of the waiting room. It simply couldn’t be his mother’s blood because she hadn’t skinned her knee, she hadn’t scratched herself in any way. As his father had explained to him, his mother was having a baby and it was a perfectly normal occurrence. Devlin had watched, completely unconcerned, as his mother’s tummy grew over time. She smiled a bit less and her hand covered her fat belly more often, but she’d still rubbed her fingers through his hair when she passed by him, she still sat down and read to him every night before she leaned over and kissed him goodnight. He loved her smiles, but her gentle touch was more important. And those kisses. Yes, he liked her kisses. And the way she smelled. She was sweet, he thought.
No one else was in the waiting room by the time the doctor finally came out and approached Devlin’s father. They whispered to each other, glancing over their shoulders to Devlin who watched it all with eyes that had aged that night. And when his father broke down in tears, the doctor helping his father to sit down in the uncomfortable chairs, Devlin swallowed hard, trying to be strong for his father. He wouldn’t cry, he told himself. Walking over to his dad, Devlin put his arms around his dad’s shoulders and patted him, just like his mom had done so many times when Devlin had been scared, had been hurt or just needed a hug.
Ten Years Later…
Devlin stopped at the grocery store on the way home from work, feeling tired but trying to smother the resentful feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. His father had missed work again today. The foreman had told Devlin that, if his dad didn’t show up tomorrow, he’d be fired. Devlin knew that they needed his dad’s income to pay the rent and buy groceries. But Devlin also knew that there were days when his father just didn’t hear anything. Last night had been one of those nights. He’d just sat in the corner, drinking the whiskey and staring out the window. Devlin had made eggs and toast for dinner, but his father hadn’t eaten them, just kept putting the whiskey to his lips and drawing the amber liquid down until he’d eventually passed out.
Devlin had gone through his dad’s pockets afterwards, taking all of his money and dumping the rest of the whiskey down the drain. It would still take at least a day for his dad to sober up enough to be fit to work, but Devlin didn’t have time to help with that tonight. He had classes and he’d have to hurry if he was going to make it.
There wasn’t time for school during the day, but Devlin had arranged to work the early shift at the factory. That meant he could get out early enough to make it to the night classes. He loved those classes, taking as many as the night school would allow. Everything was fascinating to him, especially the business classes. He couldn’t believe how many ways there were to work around a problem and he was so eager to learn, the teacher gave him extra books to study.
When he entered the one bedroom apartment that night, his father was still sleeping. Devlin made a sandwich for himself, grabbed a glass of milk, then headed out for his classes. He wanted to get to class early tonight since they were discussing real estate laws. He had an idea that he wanted to run by the teacher, see what he thought about the idea.
With a glance at his father, he rushed out, heading down the street and pulling the collar of his thin, wool coat up around his neck. The temperatures in Moscow were below zero again today and that didn’t include the wind that seemed to slice through his coat. Only a few more months until springtime, he thought grimly, pulling the frigid door open a moment before he barreled through the opening to the night school.
Scarlett’s story….
Scarlett lugged her books up the stairs, sighing as she released the weight onto her best friend’s bed. “Ms. Johnson gave us a ton of homework, didn’t she?” she asked as her friend followed behind.
Audrey dropped her book bag on the floor only moments before flopping her long, slender body onto Scarlett’s bed. “She always does. That woman doesn’t seem to know the meaning of spring break, does she?”
Scarlette didn’t respond, nor was any response necessary since Audrey had already opened up a fashion magazine and was drooling over the latest glossy advertisements. “Isn’t Fawna Tinsdale the most gorgeous creature?” Audrey gushed.
“Not really,” Scarlett replied, although she hadn’t seen the sultry Ms. Tinsdale in several issues so perhaps Scarlett wasn’t the best judge of a woman’s beauty. “Shouldn’t we get this project started? I want to hurry and get to the art project. Mr. Kimmer says we can start that early if we want.”
Audrey just rolled her eyes at her friend. “Mr. Kimmer says that you can start the project early. I’m pretty sure he won’t care if anyone else in the class start the project early.”
Scarlett opened her books, but she snuck her journal underneath her math book. During math class, she’d thought of several ideas for her latest book and was eager to try and put them all down on paper.
After an hour and a half of homework, Scarlett looked up at Audrey’s latest question. “Why don’t we go over to your house for a while?” she suggested, listening to her mother’s classical music come on downstairs. Scarlett loved her mother, but when the classical music started, Scarlett thought she was going to fall asleep. She hated the music and kept trying to convince her mother to enjoy the more modern sounds, but so far hadn’t gotten very far with that effort.
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