MR. GODFREY (Updated, Jan, 2017)

MR. GODFREY - Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

The Pie

Bacon sizzled in the pan as Mr. Godfrey painstakingly weaved the last strip of pastry into his lattice-topped apple pie. God, he hated making it. He hated making anything for that matter, but it was required and by damn he was determined to win the hearts and stomachs of those greedy little townspeople.

Apple pie for the County Fair, how far had he fallen? He knew he'd win. After all he was the best. He could bake anything, make anything ... he'd done it all at Jan-Paul's, the most exclusive eatery on the Riviera. And once upon a time he even enjoyed it. The recognition was spoiling. Mr. Godfrey, it's wonderful! Oh Lord, the raves.

He threw up his hands in mock modesty then popped the pie into the hot oven. He ate his eggs and crunched the bacon with anger. Mr. Godfrey. Everyone in this damn town called him that. Before he moved to this little shit town he was James, to most. Jim to some, and Jimmy to his mommy. Oh how he shuddered when he remembered her whining voice.

Wash up, Jimmy ... eat all your food. Why don't you go out and play? You shouldn't stick around the house so much. Go get some fresh air.

Good God, she drove him crazy. No wonder he vowed never to get married. Of course it was much easier to keep such a promise to himself, since he discovered early that he didn't like girls anyhow.

Jimmy, poor Sarah Hamilton needs a date for the prom. We said you'd take her, since your dad and her dad are such great friends.

"I Wonder just how good friends they were?" he mumbled, then returned his thoughts to Sarah. What a night that had been, his first and last date with any female. She was so skinny, and her nose was far too sharp. Her beady eyes glistened like two black marbles behind her heavy, brown-rimmed glasses. And she chattered all evening. She reminded him of a nervous squirrel with her long reddish-brown ponytail flipping around, once smacking him straight in the face. And she didn't even notice!

"Jam-Jam." the words rolled off his tongue and lingered in his memory as he thought about the boy...his boy...his lost boy. A tear rolled slowly down his pocked cheek. Acne was a big problem for Mr. Godfrey when he was a teenager, and he didn't look after it, the results were to remain with him forever.

"Andrew didn't mind." He frowned. "He was so beautiful ... until ...." He slid away from the table. How disgusting it was to live here in this miserable town and how lonely.

His thoughts returned to Andrew, and just as he was remembering the warm feeling of Andrew's hand on his shoulder, recalling the glint in his eyes as they were about to embrace, the timer on the oven clattered.

Godfrey dropped the dishes he had been carrying to the sink. Lucky for him he had been standing over it. They rattled loudly to a stop but nothing broke. In a tizzy he whirled around looking for his oven mitts. He pulled the pie from the oven and couldn't decide where to place it. His eyes searched for a holder to set it on. Because he held it so long, he burned himself through the mitt.

"Damn," he scolded himself. "What's wrong with me? I've got to get hold of myself."

He made a mental note not to think of Andrew anymore, but he knew that was impossible. He finally got the pie down and was attending to his burned finger when the phone rang.

"Yes. Hello," he barked into the receiver. For a few seconds there was no reply, then ...

"M ... Mr. Godfrey?"

"Yes," he replied impatiently.

"I ... I'm sorry to bother you, but this is Mrs King."

He immediately recognized the name as the mother of one of the brats. "Yes, Mrs King?"

"Well, you see, Mr. Godfrey, Cedric has had a bad fall from his bicycle."

"Oh," interrupted, Mr. Godfrey. "I hope he's all right." He tried to pretend to be concerned, even though he was relieved to hear that Cedric might not be coming to classes for a while. In their agreement students paid half-price when they couldn't attend.

"Oh, he'll survive," Mrs King reassured him. "It's just that he fell on his hand and bent his fingers back. I'm afraid he's broken one. He may not be able to attend classes for quite a while. It doesn't seem right to have to pay for classes he can't attend. One week maybe, but goodness knows how long this could be."

"Are you saying, Mrs King, that you want out of your agreement?" Mr. Godfrey questioned, half hoping she did. He couldn't stand the kid, always sniffing in his ear while they practiced scales.

"Well, no I guess not. I was just hoping that we could ... oh well, never mind. No, I certainly don't want him to quit his piano. He's so gifted you know."

Mr. Godfrey cringed. Gifted, shit, he thought. The kid's tone deaf. But if they wanted to pay good money for his obvious lack of talent, then who was he to refuse? He evaded the conversation and wanted it to end quickly.

"Just let me know when Cedric feels better. We'll do some make-up to reimburse you a little."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Godfrey, you're so very understanding. Mrs King groveled and he couldn't stand it.

He forced a smile into his voice. "No problem, Mrs King. Good day to you. Have a good one."

As he hung up the phone, he thought about young Cedric. He imagined him sitting by his piano, fingers swollen beyond recognition, sniffing and whimpering. He shuddered as he returned to the kitchen to box his pie. "I'll just have time to get this to the fairgrounds and do a little shopping before I must be back to entertain the brats," he mumbled.