My own mom was a big part of my life and I'm grateful we were never forced to go through the tribulations Devin and his mother face in this short story.
Thanks for reading and Happy Mother's Day!
------------------------------
The Homecoming
by JC Hemphill
The house was quiet--
No.
It was noisy.
There had been a lull between
songs when Devin returned home from school and now Elvis' Blue Suede Shoes
was blaring over the stereo. All the shades were drawn and the lights were off
except for a single yellow glow at the top of the stairs. His mother's voice
filtered down through the music, her lyrics a slurred step behind the King's.
She was drunk.
Dad would've said she was as
drunk as a skunk. Or was it a monk? He couldn't remember. He'd have to ask Dad
when he saw him.
Devin sighed and went to the
kitchen for a glass of milk. It was unusual for her to be drinking this early
in the day--she usually waited until after dinner to open the wine--the risk of getting another DUI on the way to McDonald's was too great--but today was an
unusual day. To top it off, she wasn't drinking wine. According to the
half-empty bottle on the kitchen counter, she was drinking whiskey. Knob Creek,
by the label. He recognized the honey-colored bottle from Dad's old stash, except
he remembered it being full with the seal intact.
A thought bloomed: the bottle,
which had been locked away in the museum that was Dad's study, was out while
Mother was upstairs, undoubtedly dancing in front of the mirror with a lowball
glass in one hand as she belted "Go cat, go."
Which meant there was a good
chance she had left the study door unlocked.
As the track changed from the
upbeat Blue Suede Shoes to the crooning Heartbreak Hotel, the
atmosphere shifting from motivated to melancholic, Devin made his way toward the
study. A buzz of excitement filled him when he saw the door sitting open.
Mother hadn't let him enter the study in a long time. Not since she had
caught him using the old ham radio to contact the aliens. He'd been twisting
the dials as he'd watched Dad do, trying to find the right frequency to
communicate with the mothership. All he wanted was to ask them to bring Dad
back. He'd trade all his toys and even his bike, a real fast one with good
tires, but Mother wasn't having it. She had stormed into the room, eyes redder than the Devil's buttocks, snatched him by the arm, and
dragged him out.
The bruises healed in a couple of
days, but Devin would always remember her in this way. It was the moment she
had changed from an ally to a speed bump in the road to finding Dad.
Devin stepped into the room. The
desk and bookshelves were shadowed outlines. Even in the dark it seemed
familiar. Being in there reminded him of the feeling he got on their family
trip to Disneyworld. Although Devin had never been to Disney before, he had
instantly felt a part of that jubilant place. Not that there was anything
jubilant about the study, but he received that same tingling sensation of being
connected to a place he knew he was only visiting. It would end, this visit,
this feeling, and that made the joy sad in a way.
"Hey," a sharp voice
said from behind him. "What're you doin home already?" Devin turned
to face his mother. She stood in the hallway with one strap of her halter-top hanging
off her shoulder. Her white jeans looked wet at the bottom as if she'd waded
through a flood to get there. "And what're you doin in that room?
Huh?" She cantered forward, paused, and leaned against the wall to keep
the world from pitching her sideways. She looked up at him, her face twisted in
something between anger and concern.
