Welcome! Thanks for stopping by. This week I'm continuing my story from the WIP of the last couple of weeks. This scene is a conversation between Will and his mom:
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“Bull. Torturing yourself as well.” She hung a red ornament in a bare spot.
FINDING LOVE IN SANTA'S THRIFT SHOP
Pine Grove, New York December 15
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Muriel Benson stomped the snow off her short boots in the foyer of her tidy home. “Will! Get in here and help me, will ya?” She dropped three shopping bags weighing down her tired arms and toed off her boots. Will appeared from the kitchen, a gingerbread cookie sticking out of his mouth.
“Is the tree up?” He nodded while he struggled to balance the bags and carry them into the living room. “What the hell have you got in these? Anvils?”
“Yeah, they’re heavy.” She plopped her chubby frame onto the sofa and stared at the tree.
“You and Bobby did a great job.” Will deposited the bags by the closet and joined his mom.
“Thanks.”
“New angel this year. Silver.” She handed the shimmery, delicate ornament to her son.
He arose and walked over to the tree. Muriel took a package out of her purse and joined him. She pulled out ornament after ornament, silvery blue, gold, red and placed them on the tree. He moved a few around to make the tree more balanced.
“It’s Christmas. When are you going to stop torturing Giselle.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He avoided her stare.
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“Bull. Torturing yourself as well.” She hung a red ornament in a bare spot.“Ma, stay out of this.”
“I didn’t raise you to be so unforgiving. What’s the matter with you?” She continued, oblivious to his words.
“Ma…I’m warning you. Don’t go there.”
“This is my house. I’ll go wherever the hell I want! For the first time, I can honestly say I’m ashamed of you.” She stopped.
Will turned his gaze to the floor. “You’ve never said that to me before,” he said in a low voice.
“You’ve never behaved this badly before.”
“You know what she did.”
“Took a job over you. Broke your heart ‘cause you couldn’t wait. What if it had been medical school? Would you have dumped her then?”
“Med school is only four years. She’s been gone five.”
“Don’t split hairs!” Her eyes bored into her son.
“Probably not. But it wasn’t med school.”
“Now you don’t have peace. She doesn’t have peace. It’s a damn shame.”
“What did she have to come back here for, anyway?” Anger rose in his voice.
“Her mother died! She had to sell the house and stuff.”
“But she didn’t have to buy another one. She coulda let the lawyer handle it and stayed in New York. Did she say something to you?” He turned his sharp, gray eyes on her.
“She’s got too much class for that. Did it ever occur to you she mighta come back for you?” She took another ornament out of the bag.
His wide-eyed stare told her it hadn’t.
“Maybe she did. Maybe she stayed for you. Try and patch things up.” She placed a star on the tree.
“That’s isn’t happening, Ma.”
“For a boy who did well in school, you’re dumb as a post sometimes.”
“Stay out, Ma!” He raised his voice.
“Go ahead. Be miserable. And stupid. You’ve never loved anyone else. You don’t have to admit it. But I know the truth. And underneath that stubborn hide, you do, too.” She turned and walked out of the room.
