Young Writers Society

Chapter 6

Over the next month, Maria’s old routine was throttled religiously. She would still pray 7 times a day, but in between her prayers nothing of her exterior world would exist. She moped around her house weakly, sopping wet with misery. Not a smile crossed her dial as she continued to live her life. Joe had taken time off work, and took over all her duties. No longer did her children seek her soft words of encouragement and reassurance; they merely pitied her with sympathetic looks of grief, and hugged her every now and then, treated her like a contagious leper. It seemed her life revolved around her home, as she spun like a spinning-top around the mess of confusion she lived in, unable to decipher the meaning to her madness. 

Every night was spent wallowing in fear, as she tossed and turned in her bed, occasionally waving her arms about hitting her husband rather hard. Sleep was uncomfortable, her life was uncomfortable, even her faith was making her feel uncomfortable. Sometimes there would be nights where darkness was not only the tint of the sky, but hazardous pattern of her mind as well. She would often recall having dreams of monstrous bloodshed, or fleeting visions of being shunned by her Father and abused by her Mother’s deceitfully tender hand. Her parents were both in nursing homes now. She rarely visited them, because to her they were gone. Demented with mental deterioration, so what did it matter? What did she really owe them anyway? Often after her vivid dreams of parental abuse, she would wake in a fit of shock to find herself grating her own skin in the kitchen, which frightened Joe. 

Joe had to resort to attaching the cooking utensils to chains. Maria's life was in chains, and Joe became a burdened servant to her dysfunction. One night, Joe lay with her as she shed tears all over pillow, staining them with dense depression. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and tightened his grasp upon her as he grew tearful also. In between his subtle wallows in sadness, he murmured “ whether you think God is here or not, I know he is, because I am here an God is in me. I won’t leave you until I die.” Then she turned towards him and sobbed louder with relief.

It was raining one afternoon, pouring plentifully. It was shooting down so heavily, nothing else could be seen but the moist thick grey of the sky. That was all that Maria could look at, breaking away from the shameful feelings of dismay that rotted her spirit. Painful memories riddled her mind, pushing her to quiet tears of horror. Like the time she masturbated to the porn video, and the time she gave way to alcohol and ended up in another man’s bed. Not until recently had she let those memories invade her life, tearing her to pieces. Could she have left it all behind? Not a chance.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud thrash of the front door. She turned with considerable effort to see who it was-it was Paul. He hurriedly removed his raincoat with haste, relieved to be out of the rain, giving Maria the opportunity to call for him. She gestured for him to come over with her gentle palm. He froze, mushing his mouth together with displeasure and nerve. “Why don’t you come over here sweetheart? I won’t bite.” A desperate, lonesome look appeared on her face, a look that he could not ignore. He stumbled over to her and took a seat beside her on the footstool. They looked at each other in silence, Paul ruffled the wetness from his hair and gave way to a smile. Maria sank with glee, she had not seen Paul smile for several months. “Tell me what is happening in your life darling.” Maria moved around in her seat, ready to listen. Paul only blinked stiffly, as if thinking about what he should say.” School is fine, I’ve made some new friends.” Maria flung up beaming, with as much energy as she could maintain. “That is wonderful Paul, what are their names?”

At that, Paul’s face reddened significantly as he swallowed saliva multiple times to comfort himself. “Well” he stuttered “Actually there is only one friend” he managed a light-hearted laugh, Maria didn’t quite know where he was going, but reserved herself in a thoughtful, attentive position. Her palm placed under the bottom of her chin, her arm on her knee. “What is his name?” Now she was incredibly curious about this boy who he had befriended, and why he was so hesitant to tell her about him. “ Where did you meet him Paul?” Her smile had left her face. Paul clutched his knees tightly, tense at the jaw.

“I know him from school, we get along really well.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Yes.”

Silence stormed the lounge, creating a vibe that could almost be mistaken for the stench of dishonesty. They both stared at each other, as if they were studying one another.

“Tell me more about this boy, what is his name?”

“Uh, Charlie Collins”

“Charlie, not a Christian name.”

“No.”

“Is he Christian Paul?”

Paul looked down at his knees, fiddling with his hands.

“No he isn’t.”

Maria didn’t say anything more about it, she only pursed her lips with angst and continued on.

“Why don’t you have other friends? Have you met any nice girls?”

“No Mum. No I haven’t.” He sighed heavily.

“ Why not?”

At that he directed his eyes right at hers and verbalised fearfully with dread, “ Because I’m gay. I’m gay Mum and I’m in love with Charlie.”

An eerily brief moment of awkward silence occurred, followed by the bluntly conclusive words of Maria who had suddenly turned away from her son as if struck by nausea “ Don’t speak to me”