Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: GATHERING (07/14/16)
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TITLE: Then There Were 3 | Previous Challenge Entry
By Bea Edwards
07/20/16 -
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Audrey looks like death warmed over. It’s no wonder Jakey didn’t want her to touch his favorite Tonka .I can’t get either one to look up from the painted cement floor. I suppose I need to say something.
“Jake honey, why don’t you let your mom see how the bucket works on your digger?”
He shoots me a woeful look as Audrey snorts, “The brat won’t even let me touch it why would he want to show me how it works. Just leave the kid alone, this isn’t going to work.”
Unwrapping her thin tattooed arms from their tightly folded position across her chest, Audrey tosses her greasy locks and attempts to stand, then falls unsteadily back into her chair. Jake reaches out to steady her and their eyes lock.
“Mom?” Tears begin to well in Audrey’s eyes at our 7 year old sons concern. “Are you OK?”
“What do you care, leave me alone,” she spews but Jake has already broken through that tough seemingly impenetrable facade and a single tear begins its descent down one cheek. The chair rasps across the floor as she successfully pushes back from the table, rises unsteadily onto her feet, and then collapses in a heap.
“Oh God I can’t do this,” escapes from her pale, chapped lips as she passes out.
Baristas and patrons rush in to crowd around and invade the space but my training takes over and I bark at everyone to give us some room. Jake lies on the floor, trying to hug his mother’s slight, sweaty frame as I check her vitals.
“Bubba, why don’t you sit over there while I help your mom?”
“No,” he growls and begins to hum a tune under his breath while he holds on to her even tighter. Her pulse is erratic, breathing labored and heart rate through the roof.
“Someone call 911!” Just then Audrey’s eyes flutter open and she tries to squirm away from our touch.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, get off of me!”
But Jake won’t let go he just keeps clutching and humming. Audrey’s eyes widen and she whispers, “What are you humming boy?”
“That song you taught me before you left.”
The floodgates open and Audrey begins sobbing uncontrollably while gathering her son tightly in her embrace. “Oh Jakey Oh Jakey Oh Jakey,” she grunts out between sobs.
Our son’s golden hair is drenched in her tears and snot but he doesn’t seem to care and that’s when my own composure dissolves. Folding them both in my embrace we sit in a crumpled sobbing heap on the cold cement floor until the paramedics arrive.
Hours later in the detox facility Audrey admits that she hadn’t drugged or drank in the several days prior to our coffee shop meeting, hoping in the potential of a permanent reunion with our son. I don’t know if we should trust her this time but there’s something in her eyes, a hint of life that hadn’t been there the previous few times she agreed to see us.
Maybe there’s hope after all.
Oh and she’s been humming that tune with Jake while he shows her how the bucket works on his favorite digger. As I watch the two of them I begin to hum too.
“Jesus loves me this I know…”
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Well written, encouraging anyone with a family member afflicted.
The setting issue would take just a few words to resolve, such as "shutting out the other patrons," or "in the corner of the coffee shop."
That minor snag did not detract from the incredible pathos you captured in this story.