The Burden of Secrets

Chapter 18

Why, when I was finally asleep, was there so much friggin' noise?

I pulled myself out of bed and zombie-walked downstairs to see what it was that my parents were so keen to shout about first thing on a Wednesday morning.

They were by the window in the kitchen, oblivious to me.

"This is ridiculous Zeb,"  Mum's hair was neatly tied back, and she was dressed for work.  Yet she was a mess, her hands flailing in the air as she spoke, or should I say, shouted.  "I won't have it."

"It is only for a few hours Angie,"  I noticed then that Dad was also dressed: in smart trousers and a shirt.  Despite the fact that this has been his de facto wardrobe my whole life, I had kind of gotten used to the sweatpants and t shirts of the last few weeks.   "It is an important meeting. There are things I need to start sorting out."

"You should be resting."  She turned as she paced around the tiles, looked right at me but didn't seem to see me.

Dad got up and pushed a few files into his man bag.  I realised why he looked so odd in his usual clothes; they no longer fit him.  Where his collar would usually sit tight, now it gaped; his neck sinewy rather than thick.

"Don't you remember the old Bon Jovi song?"  He cleared his throat and sang:  "Gonna live while I'm alive and sleep when I am dead."

He was killing my ears with his singing at least.

"Jesus Zebidiah."  Mum rolled her eyes; unwilling to make light of it.

There was a knock on the door that neither of them noticed.

I opened it as they resumed their fighting.

A smartly dressed young man was at the door: a dark blue car pulled up across the drive.

"I am here for Mr Beckford."

I winced as I heard the shouts louden: Dad also no longer playful.  The driver pretended not to hear.

"I'll get him for you."

I padded back to the kitchen.  There was silence now.  Mum was stood by the kitchen door with her back to the room, her arms wrapped around herself.

"Car is here Dad."  My throat was groggy.

He took a final look at Mum's back and gathered a breath before gathering his bag.

He gave my shoulder a pat as he went by;  "See you later."

Mum turned, trying to brush the tears from her eyes so I wouldn't see them.

"Zeke,"  Her forced bright tone was more glaring than anything else.   "Let me make you something for breakfast before I go."

I normally fended for myself, and had done for years, but I nodded.  She usually liked to busy herself when she was stressed.

"How about your favourite Eggy Bread?"

I gave her a smile that she didn't return before she began pulling out what she needed.

"I'll get some orange juice."

I poured two glasses out and put them on the counter near where she was working, pulling myself up to sit watching her.

Her face was still red and she sniffed a little as she sorted the ingredients.

She cracked an egg into a bowl but the next one she did too hard and shards of shell went into the bowl.

"Damn" She tried to fish the shell out: her movements getting more erratic as the beige shell clung to the bowl, refusing to be lifted.

"Oh for God's sake!" Before I could jump down to help she grabbed the bowl and threw it on to the floor.  The noise of it hitting the tile and cracking seemed to resound through the room.