A Mother's Love [PG-16+ Short Story]

[вєgσттєη ιηѕαηιту]

[spoiler=Warning: Wall of Text]

It was the cusp of autumn and the cold night air was breezing through the open windows, filtered through old, tattered mesh screens. Brutus, a nearly ten year old golden retriever, whined as the breeze seemed to settle deep within his aging bones. With one last tug, Victor tightened the laces on his running shoes before petting the dog’s fur, which was now a dull yellow from the sparse gray hair. He admired the way the gleaming moon reflected off of his best friend’s pristine coat; Brutus had always been the most beautiful retriever, even in his old age. Reluctantly, the mid-thirties bachelor went through the rounds of shutting all of the windows, double-checking the locks, and mumbling to himself about the immediate staleness that filled the air. Once he felt satisfied, Victor gave Brutus one last ruffle on the head, and he headed out the front door alone.

As he jogged through the vacant and sleepy suburbs of Cavannah, Illinois, Victor felt much like his old friend. The cold was settling in him as well, but rather with several gruntled sighs opposed to an irritated whine. He was in no position to complain, that much he understood. The nightly jogs through the neighborhood was by no means a required task. If Victor was one thing, he was always deliberate, and tonight he was more determined than ever. The news that Michaela Lyon was engaged had hit him hard several months ago. Unbeknownst to her, she had been the object of Victor’s affection for nearly a decade and a half. He had been lovestruck ever since she had won their high school varsity volleyball team the league cup, as a freshman no less.

The Cavannah Cockatoo’s, what an odd mascot.

Victor would be surprised to find anyone else who seeped as much pride and energy as Michaela had during their high school years. Being the son of the volleyball coach, he grew up around the team and had been much like a waterboy for the most complicated four years of his life. The players rarely paid him much of even a passing glance, but he knew every single one by name. Many of his days were spent trapped at practices due to his mother’s innate fear of leaving a young and vulnerable boy home alone while his father was at work. At first, this was a very boring thing for young Victor, he had yet to develop a palate for the female physique and mentality. Over time, however, he learned the mannerisms of the young female athlete and had decided that his role as waterboy was not without its perks.

His thoughts snapped back to the cold air whipping past his face as a strong gust nearly threw him off balance. Victor stood still, slouched over with his hands pressed against his knees. Regardless of his aging habit, the weight of his own body was something he still hadn’t gotten used to moving so briskly. The street ahead of him had the most trees when compared to the others of the immediate suburb and the whistling of leaves could be heard over his own thoughts. He straightened his back and looked across the street to the single story pale blue house, as he had every night for several months. One street away, that was the distance he allowed himself. So far that distance was more than enough to satisfy his urges. The fringes of her life was as much a reality to him as the fantasy of being within it. When face to face with her lawn he could imagine the faint blue of the television playing in the living room as his body pressed against hers, their breaths shallow and hungry, their skin beaded in sweat, their hair tousled and intertwined. Her bluegrass felt like a welcome mat, inviting him to come play. Typically an offer he was capable of refusing.

That night, his feet ignored any rational thought his brain pleaded and they carried him directly across the pavement. Even the cars parked in the driveway felt obscenely sensual to Victor as he breathed the crisp air surrounding the reality of the fantasy in front of him. His eyes flittered from each piece of siding, to the birdhouse in the yard, to the stepping stones outlining the garden, to everything in between.

There was no front porch on the home, which was raised on a thick concrete foundation. The front facing windows sat with their bottom trim just barely below eye level. As Victor sidled across the sidewalk connecting the front door to the driveway, he scanned the houses in the area. Everything surrounding him was silent and sleepy. His heart pounded ferociously in his chest and an animalistic hunger ate at him from within. With ragged breaths he made his way in front of the window directly to his left of the entrance of the home. The curtains were open, only a thin pane of glass creating a barrier between him and the world within.

The living room was simple and sparsely furnished. There were still boxes left unpacked and stacked alongside the wall across from the window. Michaela’s fiance Andrew sat on the couch in his boxers and a t-shirt. He held a beer in his hand and flipped through channels on the small television. Michaela was not present in the room. Just as Victor was going to turn to walk away, he caught a glimpse of blonde moving in the next room over, which Victor assumed to be the kitchen. His breath was caught in his throat and his heart somehow managed to quicken its pace.

The glass had been slowly frosting inward from the edges as the minutes passed and was beginning to fog from his breath. Slowly, his vision into the room was being obscured and he contemplated wiping the moisture off of the window but opted to avoid making any noise which could attract Andrew’s attention. After several more minutes Michaela walked into the living room with two plates in her hands and she sat down next to Andrew. Her beauty was, as it always had been, nearly indescribable. Blonde hair cascaded down her slender shoulders and neck. Her eyes, a piercing blue, filled Victor with an insatiable lust. His eyes trailed across her body, upward from her feet, past her copious breasts, and landing again at her eyes.

It was only a moment, but it felt like eternity. Victor hadn’t quite realized the connotation of their eye contact before she and Andrew stood up and flicked their lights on. The blinding flash of light jolted his senses, and he was already half way down the block when he heard the front door slam open and Andrew shouted something just barely audible.

* * *

The following day was not much warmer by comparison. Upon crawling out of bed, just shortly before sunrise, Victor noted the seeping cold that permeated through the glass windows and into his bedroom. It was Sunday, which meant it was time for Victor and Brutus to take a trip to the nearby park.

Victor’s body ached. He shambled his way through his house as he prepped himself for his day. Flashes of the previous night kept haunting him. Never in his life had he peeked in through another person’s windows. He didn’t know what he was becoming, or possibly what he had always been. After he showered and dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror. His frame was frail, his skin showing early signs of sagging, and his hair thinning and balding at the forehead. With a sigh Victor combed his hair, ignoring the dead flakes of skin floating down onto the ivory sink below.

The sun was just rising as Victor clasped the leash onto Brutus’ collar and the two of them set out the door, together this time. It was only a ten minute jog to the park and Brutus kept up pace with no problem. Days like this his companion seeped a youthfulness and energy that made Victor green with envy. He had always imagined that one day his best friend would grow too old to take the semi-long trips by foot, and he half expected it to be soon, but Brutus was resilient.

The park was situated on the outskirts of the inner city, just where the buildings began to reach above ten stories. Victor stopped at a vendor and purchased a Cavannah Chronicle to read while he waited. From the vendor it was only a minute jog to the park, which they made without incident. The gates of the park reminded Victor of the zoo he used to visit with his father as a child. On the outskirts lied miles upon miles of concrete and steel which abruptly stopped at a fence and shifted into a field of life. While the streets outside of the park bristled with the life of humanity, inside of the park held a sense of purity. His existence, which on a good day felt benign, was only a miniscule mistake among the beauty that surrounded him. The large oak trees, littered throughout the park, were nearly twice his age and would likely live well past his expiration.

A small metal bench, it's green paint chipped and cracked revealing rusted metal, sat along a blacktop bath that curved and wound through the park. Victor sat on the left hand side, his arm resting on the armrest as he flipped open the paper with a false bravado. Brutus merely laid in the grass beside him. Like that they sat for several minutes as Victor read the headlines, none of the text amusing him.

It would be several more minute before Brutus caught sight of a small squirrel that was perched on another nearby bench. Brutus snarled lowly and Victor tugged lightly on the leash to get him to hush. Brutus ignored him and growled louder as he stood slowly.

“For the love of God dog, what has gotten into you?” Victor asked as Brutus lunged at the small critter.

Victor was taken off guard as he was yanked viciously into the armrest, the newspaper falling onto the ground and dispersing its contents. With a grunt, Victor pulled Brutus back against the bench and calmed him. Luckily it was with moments to spare. Just as Victor collected all of the pieces of paper off of the ground, Michaela came rounding the corner and into the park. He shook slightly as he realigned the pages and watched over the edge.

She glided effortlessly over the pavement, her hair stuck to the sweat that formed on her back. She was only near him for a few seconds as her usual sunday jog took her straight through the park and out across the bridge over the Granite River. Victor watched awestruck as she passed, and was both glad and shocked that even through all of his commotion, she hadn’t even glanced in his direction.

With a feeling of satisfaction he glanced back at the paper and saw the section he was turned to. Crime. Normally Victor cared not for violence or trauma, it brought back too many memories, but he couldn’t look away when the opening headline read Peeping Tom in Southside Suburbs. A cold chill ran down his back as he crumpled the newspaper, tossed it in the nearest trash can, and began the twenty-five minute walk home.

* * *

A single police car sat in Victor’s driveway as he and Brutus walked back to his house. His heart jumped in his chest as he slowed his pace and considered turning around. But the two men standing on his porch were turning around to leave when they appeared to notice Victor on the sidewalk. With his face flushed, he walked up to the two men, who stepped down from the porch to meet Victor.

“Victor Harrison?” The tall blond officer asked as his young partner stood back with a shy expression on his face.

“Uhm, yes that’s me. Is something wrong officers?” The young officer was eyeing Brutus with suspicion and Victor gave the dog a subtle pat on the back.

“Would you mind if we go in and talk for a moment sir?” The politeness in the older officer’s voice caught Victor off guard, but reluctantly he agreed to let the men into his home.

The officers followed him as he opened the door and motioned for them to sit on the couch. The officers declined as Victor shut the door and opened the blinds. The light filtered into the room and reflected off specks of dust flying through the air. Brutus ignored the commotion and went straight to his bed in Victor’s office.

“Would you two like anything to drink?” Victor asked.

“No thank you,” the younger officer managed to say.

“We actually have some bad news Mr. Harrison,” the older officer spoke this time.

Nausea overwhelmed Victor. “Well, get it over with.” He tensed his hands, prepared to put up a losing fight.

“There’s no easy way to say this, but your mother was found deceased in her home yesterday evening.”

Victor stifled a laugh and looked the officer dead in the eyes. “You’re joking right? This is some type of prank?”

The younger officer became visibly uncomfortable as he twisted his right wrist with his left finger and thumb while the other officer spoke. “No, sir. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Victor sat down in a nearby chair and looked up at the ceiling. His throat tightened and he felt short of breath. “Uhm… Can I see her?”

“That’s part of the reason we are here. We need someone to come identify the body so that we are certain. You are the only relative we could contact.” The officers shared an awkward glance.

“Can you take me there?”

* * *

The morgue was eerily quiet as Victor was escorted to the back room where a body lied draped with a black tarp. He stopped in front of the body and shivered. The room, decorated with white linoleum and paint, had several metal doors lining the walls which presumably held the bodies of others he may or may not have known.

“Whenever you’re ready Mr. Harrison,” the mortician said.

Victor nodded and the man peeled back the tarp to reveal a white skinned woman. Her make-up was flamboyantly bright but did very little to disguise the death underneath. This was the second time in Victor’s life that he had to identify the body of one of his parents. At the age of 19, when his mother was away on some volleyball competition, he received a visit from two police officers who informed him that his father was in a car accident. The jackass was driving home from the casino, drunk. The woman lying on the table in front of him didn’t even react at the time. He had called her that evening to tell her the bad news, and in between Victor’s harsh sobs she told him to grow a pair, and she hung up. When she returned home two days later it was as if his father never existed.

“Mr. Harrison… Is this your mother?”

“Yes,” Victor said before turning and walking out of the room.

* * *

His mother had never made a will, and as the only offspring all of her belongings were given to him. Everything, including his childhood home that she paid off five years back, now belonged to him. She left him little over enough to handle the cost of the funeral and burial, so he hired whoever he could to deal with it so that he didn’t have to.

“Yes… Listen, I just want her buried six feet under, okay? Whatever you need to do in order to put her to rest, please just do it.”

Silence as Victor walked through his childhood home.

“That’s fine… Yes, the cheapest package works… A viewing is fine, she was loved in the community anyway so that would be nice… Three days? Yeah, that’s fine… Thank you.”

Victor hung up the phone and slid it back into his pocket. The house had never felt friendly to him, but now it felt haunted. There was something buried deep within the walls of this building that tore away at victor, pleaded for him to stay and play. His footsteps echoed as he walked on the hardwood and into his old bedroom. The window of his old room faced the back of the house, a set of metal bars, hinged at the wall with a padlock in the center was intended to keep him inside.

The screaming returned suddenly, and Victor instinctively ran to shut and lock his bedroom door. It slammed shut loudly and Victor fumbled with the door before it locked underneath his hands.

“Don’t you dare funking lie to me you piece of sheet!” his mother screamed from down the hall. “I can smell the perfume on your shirt!”

“Honey, not what you think… s’swear,” his father slurred back.

Another loud bang, this one from down the hall. The sound of broken glass raining on hardwood echoed through the cracks of his door.

Victor went over to the window and slid the glass up. There were bars now, from when he was caught running away last time. He fiddled with the padlock, he had yet to learn the code but was determined now.

“Get out! GET OUT!”

Victor slammed the padlock against the bar in frustration, crawled into his closet and curled into a ball. His arms were wrapped around his legs and he rocked back and forth as he heard a car peel out of the driveway. Moments later he heard someone twisting the knob on his door.

“Vic, honey. Daddy’s gone, momma’s here.”

“No! I don’t want you,” Victor shouted back at her, afraid she might force herself on him again.

“You listen to your mother!”

The door unlocked and opened with a bang, then Victor blacked out.

Victor woke the next morning curled up in the closet. His face was dry and caked in the filmy material left behind when tears dry. With much pain and labor, he managed to work his way back out of the closet and looked around the room. It was exactly as he remembered it as a child, just as cold as it had been every night he slept with the window open.

With a sigh he unlocked and opened the door, it was time to start packing.

* * *

The viewing was open casket, and Victor was not surprised to see a large gathering. Several of his fellow classmates came to give their condolences. Even though Victor contacted other family member from out of state, none of them arrived. Victor noticed Michaela sitting with Andrew in the far corner. The room hushed as people made their way to the podium to give a few words about Mrs. Valheem-Harrison. They spoke of her vigor and success as a coach, of her caring and loving nature as a mentor, of her competitive spirit. No one spoke of her role as a mother, a wife, a daughter, or a sister. None of those roles mattered to the people present.

The ceremony was short, and before long people began to file their way out of the building. Victor stood at the doorway and thanked people for coming. Once the hall was nearly empty Victor noticed Michaela motion towards himself as she kissed Andrew on the cheek. Andrew passed him with an awkward nod as Michaela approached.

“I’m so sorry for your loss Victor,” she said, the sorrow in her eyes only making her more beautiful. “She was an amazing woman, I looked up to her very much.”
 
Not sure what to say Victor nodded and thanked her.

“Listen, when my brother passed away I learned that the easiest way to overcome death is to socialize. Avoid keeping yourself locked up.”

Victor just nodded.

“I was wondering if you would like to attend my wedding next month?”

“Oh… Yeah... Yes, thank you. I will definitely attend.”

She hugged Victor and wished him well before walking out after Andrew. Victor walked back to his mother’s coffin and looked out the window. As Michaela walked away from the building she made one quick glance back at him, a solemn and grim look on her face, the type that someone makes when faced with the harsh reality of death. With one last look at his mother, Victor closed the coffin and walked out of the building.

 

 

[Catterjune]

Spoiler did not lie. T'was a wall of text


Okay so...

There's this guy named Victor, a mid thirties bachelor with a dog named Brutus. He's in love with this girl named Michaela, who he met in high school. He takes a jog around the neighborhood and (despite the fact that she may have just moved in since her stuff is still packed) he knows where Michaela lives.

Everyone always says "show don't tell" so... yeah. Let's kinda start with that.

I really dislike the writing style, where you're just kinda going through it, explaining with a lot of purple prose in the first part of the story until the asterisks.

I don't know if it's the fact that I read this late at night, but every thing after the asterisks is much better and easier to read than the stuff in the opening scene. We learn information as it becomes relevant. We don't need to know he's pined for a girl from the volleyball team and he was the coach's son until it comes up.

This may be just a weirdness on my end, but I assumed the father was the girl's coach, and it took me until the funeral scene to put it together that the mom was the coach. It's a little unclear.

But anyway, he jogs up the woman's house and is a creepy Peeping Tom or something, and then we have a scene change.

The next scene is significantly easier and therefore much better to read. Until we get to the line that begins with "the park was situated on the outskirts of the innter city" and the paragraph "A small metal bench". Those paragraphs can funk right off, or just be shortened and written without so much... "false bravado".

So he's at the park, his dream girl passes by, and he notices the newspaper "Peeping Tom in Southside Suburbs".

Next scene, police tell him his mom died. He seems he really disliked his mom, putting together whatever he can as quickly as possible. He recognizes his mom was important to people so he goes through with the funeral.

We have a bit of an awkward dream sequence or something, where it's revealed that his dad cheated on his mom or something? And his mom molested him I think?

Final scene, we're at the funeral. He sees dream girl Michaela. She tells him to avoid locking himself in, and maybe Victor seems a bit hopeful? Or something? Then she just crushes him "Come to my wedding next month". and then it just sort of ends...


So... this is one of those "interpreting stories" or something. Maybe it's late at night, or maybe I'm a big dumb stupid retard or something. Maybe my interpretation is wrong. His mom may have molested him, and I assume that's the reason for the title, as well as the line "afraid she might force herself on him again". Probably why he's kinda a weirdo and has kind of a not-so-great relationship with women, and also why he hated his mom and just wanted a quick burial.

I don't wanna insult the story with such a bland statement like "Why did you write this?" but... kinda... I dunno, why was it written? It just kinda seems like "life's a jabroni, then you... keep living and bad sheet keeps happening. The End." Kinda felt bad that the protagonist didn't get any closure or really anything.

I think if you avoided mentioning Michaela's engagement it would have been a much bigger gut punch at the end of the story. Avoid mentioning everything, mention the girl is the love of his life, and then just bad stuff and more bad stuff keeps happening to him.

I probably shouldn't read and review stories so close to when I go to sleep. I guess one big complaint is I don't really know what the protagonist feels. One of the times I'd wish you told us what he felt instead of just showing what he did. Or maybe expand more on his and Michaela's relationship. Even by the end of the story I'm not sure if they're friends, if they ever dated, or if she was even aware of his existence.

tl;dr - Overall, the beginning was bad. It got okay, the park scene meandered a bit but got back on track. The cops and morgue scene were fine. Everything until the dream sequence was okay in the house scene. Final scene was passable. Two recommendations are to remove the purple prose and remove references of Michaela's relationship with Andrew so it can be a bigger gut punch at the end when she reveals she's getting married. Optional choice: Expand more on Michaela, maybe? Or more on his mom.

Why am I reviewing four month old topics?!