Previous Challenge Entry (EDITOR'S CHOICE)
Topic: Dead End( 02/06/14)
TITLE:
Down Deception Lane | Writing Challenge By Anne Warden 02/09/14 |
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6th Place
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It still surprised her Sean had called and, more so, that he’d let his peers witness his mother pick him up. His rebellion over the past year grieved her and Marty. He was hanging out with a bad crowd, rarely at home and belligerent when he was.
“Hey.” He leaned down.
Nora braced herself for an odor but Sean’s breath through the open window held only a trace of alcohol. And no weed.
“Can we take Justin home?”
“Sure. To our house or his?”
“His. I’ll get him.”
Steering past bodies in varying states of alertness, Sean entered the house. He returned with Justin in tow. The boy could barely stand on his own. Twice Sean caught him before he plunged to the ground.
Justin sprawled across the back seat, one hand dragging the floor. He was snoring before Sean buckled in and they pulled away from the curb.
“Where to?”
“He lives up off Wensley Hills.”
While winding their way to the suburbs, Nora recalled the many times she’d said, “If you ever need me to come pick you up, I’ll do it. No questions asked. It doesn’t matter how late.” After the shock of his call this morning she wouldn’t have been able to go back to sleep anyway. So she’d come, expecting . . . well, she wasn’t exactly sure what. It wasn’t this though. Gone was his “Yeh, whatever” attitude. Gone was his seething discomfort in her presence.
Instead he rode with one finger rubbing his chin and his lower lip caught between his teeth, his sign of being deep in thought. Laughing, he finally said, “I bet you didn’t want to get out of bed at 1:30.”
What was this? An attempt to communicate? “Not really,” she answered honestly, “but your safety is more important to me than sleep.”
“I see that. Thanks.”
Her heart soared. She didn’t understand what was happening here, but it offered hope. She’d cling to any thread of rapport with her son. But she’d need to be oh, so careful how she navigated these choppy waters or she might lose her grip. <i>Father, give me the right words to say. Or keep my mouth shut.</i>
Once they reached Wensley Hills, Sean turned them onto a lane leading between rows of moonlit birch trees, their leaves shimmering in the summer night’s breeze.
“This is pretty,” commented Nora.
“Uh-huh.”
Exiting the birch grove, their view opened over grassy fields, giving them a panoramic display of city lights with the bay beyond.
“Wow!” she exclaimed. “Why have I never driven this road before?”
“Mom, did you notice the ‘Dead End’ sign back there? I think that keeps most people from coming down here.”
“You’re probably right. But what a shame!”
Sean was silent as the lane turned away from the awesome view and dropped into a forest. Far down the hill, the trees gave way to a colorless bog and, when he told her to turn, they crossed a rickety plank bridge onto a muddy rut with deep potholes. A rusty travel trailer listed in the muck, broken tools and bottles with faded labels littering its grassless yard. Two big dogs on chains greeted them with ferocious barking.
From the trailer staggered two young men wearing only cutoffs. “His brothers,” mumbled Sean as he went to talk with them.
Nora grimaced. <i>This is who my son hangs out with? No wonder he’s often in trouble.</i> After the brothers had hauled Justin none too gently from the car, Nora doubled back to the road.
Turning to face her, Sean took a deep breath. “Coming out here every few days, I’ve gradually realized something. The road I’ve been on in life – skipping school, partying, causing mischief, pushing against the rules – it’s like this road. It started out looking pretty good. It captured my attention with its promises of excitement and fun. But the further I ride, the uglier it gets, with hazards all around.”
Tears blurred Nora’s vision.
Sean’s sigh was heavy. “It’s just a dead end, Mom. I want a life that goes somewhere.”
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