I am Gideon: Chapter #6

Home Again.

When I walked in the door, my mother didn’t know me.  She thought I was a client.  “It’s me,” I said.  “Gideon.” I realized I was looking down, not up into her face. I will remember her expression and our conversation, to my dying day.

There was a pause.  “Oh.  OK,” Another pause.  “You’re not here to ….me?” She used a word we don’t use in our family. 

“I’m your son,” I said.  I hated to admit that.  “I’m Gideon.  Your son.  I’m…home.”

“You’re tall.” She stared at me for a long time with her mouth ajar and her scrawny eyebrows working.  Apparently, something finally clicked because she said.  “Been out on your own, have you?  Learned anything we can use?”

I explained that I’d been in a medical facility for a couple of years, not out on my own, not honing my skills – in a building – incarcerated – dealing with several venereal diseases, working in the laundry and being experimented on.

She looked totally befuddled.  “You’ve been workin’. You give me half what you earned,” she said flatly.  “I’m your mother.  I provide for you.  You need to provide for me or you can’t stay.”

I explained as best I could without shouting, that I’d been incarcerated, not working.  That I hadn’t earned any money.

“Best get to makin’ some then,” she said.  “They’ll be around tonight.”

Why I didn’t walk out then and there, I’m not sure, but I didn’t.  I told her that if she was talking about the kind of work I thought she was, I was no longer in the business, then I dropped my trousers and showed her the brands.

“Well…shame on you,” she muttered. “Gone and got caught like that. Can’t make no money with that on your ass. Go find us somethin’ to eat.”

I assumed she meant back to the trash heaps behind the building where we’d always gone, so that’s where I went, but I’d been away too long, eaten food that wasn’t rancid, had one too many civilized conversations to be able to stand digging through the garbage for food.  I was contemplating my next move when the back door of the building opened and Brother Darwin stepped out.  “Hello,” I said.  I wondered if he’d recognize me.  I wondered if he’d be interested in hearing about where I’d been and what I’d learned.  I wondered if he’d let me apologize.

“Get out of here,” he said. 

And I did.  I took two of the coins I had in my pocket from what they’d given me when I left the institution, bought a cheap loaf of bread and four slices of cheese, and went back to my mother.

“I knew you had money!” she said, and tried to go through my pockets, but I slapped her hands away.  “Give me what you got!” she demanded.

“This is what I’ve got for you,” I said.  I opened the loaf of bread, took four slices, put half the cheese between them, and handed her the rest.   “This is what food looks like.  It does not come in a bottle.  It does not come out of a garbage bin.  Enjoy it.”

She snatched it out of my hand and turned her back, stuffing bread and cheese into her mouth. I could hear her gagging.  “You could have bought food instead of whiskey,” I said.

I took a good look around and realized that there was no place for me here.  Why had I thought there would be?  I had wasted two precious coins and a lot of daylight, and Declivis was not a safe place to be at night.  I picked up my sandwiches and left.  I’m not sure she even saw me go. 

 

Image Designer Credit: Sage Hollis