Wanted

Chapter 14

"I talk to him," John heard Edwards reply coldly to her as he continued to make his way up the stairs towards where John was sitting, which made John's heart thump inside his chest so hard he could feel it in his neck. He jumped up and ran for the door to try it one more time, just in case he had gotten it wrong. But it didn't budge, so he stood beside it, terrified, waiting for Edwards. He had no idea what to expect of the man.

Edwards paused for a moment, when he got to the top of the stairs and saw John standing next to the door. But before John could even tell him that the door was locked and that he hadn't meant to be eavesdropping, Edwards had taken a hold of him roughly by the collar of his shirt with one hand while forcefully trying to turn the white porcelain door knob to open the door with the other, so that John feared Edwards had changed his mind on not punishing him.

The door did not budge for him either though. Puzzled by this, Edwards paused and then looked down at the boy, narrowing his eyes, dangerously, or so it seemed, as if he was studying John's face to see if he was the one that locked the door.

John had to lower his gaze momentarily, feeling guilty without a cause, just because of the way Edwards looked at him, but then looked up again, in case Edwards was going to hit him. But Edwards had no intention to hit him and so John watched how the tall man searched the top of the door frame for the key with his free hand, until he found it, while still holding onto John' shirt collar with the other nevertheless.

Having found what he was looking for, Edwards unlocked and opened the door for them to go through with just the one hand and pushed John into the room, finally letting go of him.

Afraid of what might happen next, John moved himself into the corner of his room in a futile effort to keep some distance between them. If Edwards wanted to get a hold of him again, he would have no chance in the small room, but to John' surprise Edwards remaind in the middle of the room and started looking around as if this was the first time he had ever sat eyes on it.

Remembering what Walls had told him of the family, that their son had died several years ago, but the couple only moved to the town recently, John realised that the boy, Thomas had never lived in this room. Following Edwards gaze to the toys on the shelves, John suddenly felt as if he was in a graveyard or a shrine. It suddenly made perfect sense that Mrs Edwards had forbidden him to touch their son's belongings.

Edwards finally brought his attention back at John. His eyes still cold and void of any emotion, he pulled out the chair from under the wooden desk below the window and sat down on it. Folding his hands in his lap, he just looked at the boy as if contemplating his next move.

This gesture made John relax a little. Not because he thought Edwards to be less of a threat, there was no way he would be tricked across his knee by him again, but because he now had a chance to make a run for the door and get away if necessary. 

"John, I need you to go downstairs and say sorry to my wife," Edwards said, his tone of voice weary and worn out.

John narrowed his eyes in disgust. He normally had no problem apologising for things he would do again in a blink of an eye, if that was to safe him from a hiding. He'd often apologised for things he hadn't even done, sometimes not even knowing what it was apologizing for. In his experience, protesting his innocence was futile. No one believed the likes of him. It was better to apologise, with puppy eyes and hope to be let off than expect anyone to believe that he was not the culprit, which in fairness he rarely had been in such situations. But this was different. 

He was not going to apologise to that wretched woman downstairs. Because she was the wretch and not his Ma. His Ma had not abandoned them. She was out there looking for him or something dreadful had happened to her, but she did not leave them for the gutter. There was no way he was going to say sorry and let this woman believe that he thought she was right. She was wrong to say that about his Ma and he could not lie about it. This was differernt then the other times. He needed this to be the truth so much. 

'For what?' he wanted to challenge Edwards, because he knew that Edwards knew this to be wrong as well. Edwards did not give away much with his eyes but he did in this case. He was conflicted and John could see it. But John also knew that Edwards still would take his wife' side just as he did this morning, so he kept stumm. 

As if Edwards could read his mind he said, "You hurt her feelings, John."

But John didn't agree. 'I've done nothing wrong,' he wanted to say but  did not feel safe enough to argue back, so he just continued to scowl at the man in front of him instead. His face clearly showing his feelings on the matter in lieu of a response.

"I know you didn't mean to," Edwards said and then averted John's gaze by looking out the window and into the debth of the blue sky.  "All she wants to be is a mother again, John. She's hurting. She hasn't been right since the day he's died," Edwards told him with an immense sadness in his voice, but didn't add, 'and neither have I,' even though he wanted to.

John still didn't want to go downstaris but he could relate. He sat down on his bed opposite Edwards, who had turned his gaze towards him again. Not sure anymore how he was supposed to feel, he picked up the rabbit and the fox from the nightstand and held them in his hands, looking down at them and rubbing his fingers over the carvings that made out the animals facial expressions. A scared rabbit and a clever little fox.

The woman who lived above them in the tenements, who walked around as if in a bubble, oblivious to the things that were happening  around her, she was said to be 'not right since her husband died'. It was the phrase everyone used for her condition. Whenever his Ma managed to get her hands on a bit of drink, which granted wasn't that often, he felt that sentence applied to her too, because she made no sense when she was like that. He never knew if he should pity or be angry with her when she was like that. She would go on and on about how wonderful his father was, and how wonderful everything would have turned out, if only he had come back as promised. But then as she continued she'd change her mind and would tell  him his father was a selfish bastard, and then she would go on about  the wonderful baby John had been himself and in the same breath called him all sorts of names, and blamed him on his father leaving. 'She wasn't right', he felt when she was like that, just full of pain.

He knew the pain of loss himself, and that it could make you be 'not right'. It was the reason why he needed it to be the case that his Ma had not abandoned them but in fact was out their looking for him and his brothers. It was the only bit of hope he had left and he clung to it for dear life. 

"You don't have to mean it, son," Edwards told him, looking straight at him again in a jaded way. "You just have to sound as if you do," he added as he turned his head away from John again.

It was  advise John would have given his brothers or a friend. but he never thought an adult would say this to him, least of all an adult who only this moring had told him that 'the one thing he could not abide was a liar'. 

Edwards got up which for a split second scared John, but he needn't have been, for Edwards headed straight for the door. In the door frame he stopped and turned one more time, to see if John was following, which John was not.

"I won't make you, boy. And I won't whip you if you won't call her mother when she's not around neither," he said with a nod in John's direction and with that he left and went downstairs.