Remnant Of The Gods

Chapter 8

I brough' you some breakfast." Simon came in, dumping a tray of food on my lap and sat on the edge of my bed. I squinted at the meal and tried to work out how he had done it. There were two perfectly round eggs, bacon, hot cakes and a toasted bun on the side.

Looking up at him I couldn't believe he took apart a McDonald's burger to make it look like he had cooked something. The food was neatly presenting on a plate like it was fresh out of the oven but it still did not qualify as cooking. I guess he said he brought the breakfast up though he could have been a bit more truthful.

"You feelin' any better?" he asked, munching on his own share of broken burger breakfast from the array of plates in front of me.

"A little better... I guess," I didn't mean to be so stoic, the turn of events from the last week have changed my outlook a little. I had spent most of the night researching black shadows, coming up with story after story of death and its looming presence. It hadn't fixed my outlook. I tried to instead think about my future and the fact that I was going back to the home with Simon tomorrow as I started to pack the rest of my things.

"How's Sandra doing these days?" I ask, looking forward to the prospect of seeing her again.

"Yer know Sandra, she'll never change. She still cooks a meal for twen'y when it's only the two of us there, most of the kids have grown up yer know? Lucky we had less and less children needin' a home until we had no-one there. We haven't had anyone apart from ourselves fer a couple years now so Sandra is close ter bouncin' off ter walls" he all but rolled his eyes.

So that was why he was able to stay here for so long. He probably pictured the same thing I did, Sandra jumping up and down enough that she could take flight at any moment, puffing and panting as she rushed around the house to clean every inch of it's already clean surfaces. She would make sure the place was immaculate no matter what the day, week, month or year if it meant some company. I began to feel a little sorry for Simon, he probably leaped at the chance to escape.

For a crazy lady though she sure was lovable, I never got why her and Simon didn't just get married and have a child of their own until I realised that Simon just wasn't interested. He had absolutely no desire to have a wife with children and a little dog with a picket fence. He was a simple man who only ever wanted to help others and make them happy. I always thought Sandra, on the other hand, would welcome the proposal with open arms as she seemed to like him enough. Not the silly, flirtatious kind of 'like' but a more subtle kind of love. She would feed him his favourite foods, make the house look just the way he wanted, created the same sweater over and over when she first knitted him one and he loved it to bits. The kind of love that would last, if it wasn't one sided.

Simon coughed, grabbing my attention as he collected the plates to take them away. I scraped the last pancake off of the plate and groaned as I knew this food was going to end up as a lump of skin somewhere entirely unpleasant and unwanted.

I showered and dressed as I hadn't bothered to even take off my shoes as my head dropped onto the pillow last night. I made myself focus with steely determination not to revisit my recent memories too often, going through all of the emotions I had over the last month was enough for a lifetime.

While drying my hair I could hear the muffled voice of Simon downstairs, yelling loudly at someone. I quickly ducked out of my towel and rushed to get dressed, thundering down the stairs to find out what was wrong. Simon never yelled - never. Listening intently, I followed his voice into the sitting room where I found Simon on the phone.

"What do you mean today?" Simon paused, waiting for an answer tapping his foot impatiently, "How could they?" more waiting. "Of course we weren't told why else would I be on the phone to you?"