Temporary Hate

Chapter Two

"Mr. McDough, you have to take your meds if you want to get better," I coax the sixty-two year old man. His lips move,as he tries to talk, but no sound comes out. I place the cup holding the meds up to his lips but he shakes his head stubbornly.

"Mr. McDough, you have to take your meds. I'll let you have a slice of cheesecake if you do this." He needed no further encouragement.

When I finally walk into the living room Mrs. McDough is on the phone, her expression sad and dissapointed. "I love you to Gavin. I hope I see you down here," she says softly before hanging up. "Who's Gavin?" I ask, letting curiosity get the better of me. She smiles, "my son." My eyes widen in surprise. "I didn't know you had children."

"Only him. He doesn't call, or come around much. Always finding reasons not to," she mutters.

"Is he in college?" I ask, skeptical. The McDoughs seem a little on the elderly side to still have a son in college. She shakes her head no. "He's a Marine. Definitely out of college though."

She picks up a picture frame off the fire place mantle and walks over to stand by me. A very handsome man in Marine blues, which consisted of a black jacket, with red trim, gold buttons, and a white belt, decorated with many medals in an assortment of colors, a white hat, white gloves, and navy blue pants, stood next to a podium his spine rigid and his expression hard and unaproachable. "That's your son?!" I ask unable to hold back my suprise. The man seems far to cynical to be a child of Marjorie McDough.

She laughs and nods. "I know. This picture makes him seemed hard an unforgiving but he's a good kid. This picture was actually taken when he received a Medal of Valor four years ago," she says still laughing.

"Is he coming down to the great state of Tennessee?" She sighs and shrugs. "I pray that he is. I haven't seen him in two years, and he's on a rare break before he goes on to his next tour." I smile sympathetically. "I'm sure he will Mrs. McDough. Your his mother, so if he doesn't you could always hire someone to kick his ass," I say with a straight face.

Her eyes widen, thinking I was serious until I start laughing. "I do hope you're right Sammy dear."

The next morning is rainy and humid. A thick fog covers the ground limiting visibility. I was hoping to take Mr. McDough outside for some much needed fresh air. He's been inside this stuffy house for a week with no contact to the outside.

Mrs. McDough on the other hand found refuge in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. The house has smelled like home all day making me long for my home back in Chicago. My brother, Trevor, had called earlier to update me on the new love of his life, Michael something.

I miss my brother. He was the only family I had left after Hurricane Katrina had taken our mother and a bullet to the heart had taken our father.

The only problem was Trevor's delusions that I need a man. I am a very independent woman, and everything in my world revolved around the fact that I didn't need a man to make me happy. Trevor thought otherwise. He also being attracted to the male species, had made him feel like he was a hookup expert. I'll be the first to admit, he had very good taste in men but everyone he chose for me was either gay, happily married, or both.

Recently he'd run into a man we'd met a little over two years ago. Carson, I think his name was. Anyway, he'd attempted to set us up only to find out Carson was soon to be married with a son.

I lost hope that there was a man out there for me. Especially after my most recent boyfriend who was a little rough. Sexually I mean. Of course I reported the bastard and filed a restraining order but the man still cast a dark shadow I over my love life.

I sigh and rub a hand over my face. "Good morning dear, how'd you sleep," Mrs. McDough asks once I step into the kitchen. "Fairly well. Been up since six though," I answer pouring myself a glass of orange juice.

She nods and hands me a scone. I take it gratefully, a delicious burst of flavor exploding in my mouth as I bit into it. I let out a small moan, unable to control it. "Oh my God! This is so delicious Mrs. McDough." She laughs and hands me another. "Marjorie dear. And I'm glad you like them." I end up eating three more before I leave to give Mr. McDough his meds. "Good morning Mr. McDough," I say once I open the door. He looks at me from the corner of his eyes unable to move his head much. I use a napkin and wipe some drool off his cheek.

I pick up one of the scones I had brought in and feed it to him slowly. Small noises of appreciation leave his throat with each bite. "Now your meds."

I meticulously give him his morning dose of five different medications. For once he doesn't protest taking them. His unusual cooperation ended when I mention a sponge bath. "I have to Mr. McDough," I apologize, removing his urinal bag. I quickly clean him, paying attention to his underams. "All done!" I say drying him quickly but gently.

His lips move but, again, no sound comes out. "I'm sorry I had to put you through that Mr. McDough. Hopefully you'll be better soon and you'll be up and about in no time."

I leave the room and wash my hands. When I get old I want to able to take care of myself. I don't want to have someone feeding me meds, or tending to my every need. I jump when I hear something crash down stairs.

I rush into the kitchen to make sure Marjorie is okay but she isn't there and neither was broken glass. I grab the steel bat that sat between the wall and the fridge. I slowly creep into the living room. My heart begins to race when I see a dark figure crouched next to a shattered vase.

I raise the bat and nail the intruder in the back of the head. He grunts and whips around, clutching his head. I hit him again in the side as he stands up, towering over me.

Holy shit. This guy is huge.