The Kings of Kentworth

135.

Trevor rolled to his side on his bed the next morning, before he finally opened his eyes. He twisted to get a good look at the alarm clock on his bed side.

“9:56AM.”

“Shit,” he let out an exhausting groan as he turned away and pulled one of his pillows to his chest. He still felt weak and tired as hell. He had not been able to fall asleep until about five that morning. Yet, for some reason, even as he squeezed his eyes shut, he just couldn’t find himself drifting away anymore.

“Fuck,” he hissed to himself as he punched the pillow and pulled himself out of bed.
He made his way out of the room and onto the stairs, his head pounding like it had been doing these past few days. He got to the stairs and paused when he heard the crackling sound of heated oil coming from the kitchen. His Mum had probably been home for a while.

He made his way down the stairs and turned towards the kitchen. The soothing and somewhat warm aroma of fried eggs seemed to slither into his nostrils. He walked into the kitchen and found his mum. Her back to him as she kept staring the eggs in the pan with a wooden spatula. Trevor smiled a little when he took in the way her blonde hair was tied back in a neat ponytail. She had a white sweat-shirt on over blue jeans. He could swear that his mother could pass for a teenager sometimes.

She scooped the scrambled eggs from the pan, placed it in a plate and turned around to place it on the island table. She paused when she saw her son standing a few yards away with a smile on his face.
“Morning mum,” Trevor’s utterance was laced with anxiety.

Mrs. Bowman dropped the plate of eggs on the table and turned away, completely ignoring his greeting.

The smile on Trevor’s face slowly fell when it hit him. She was obviously still mad at him. He sighed and walked over to the sink were she stood. He stood there, watching as she placed the pan and used utensils into the sink; her eyes completely avoiding him. It was almost as if he wasn’t there.
Trevor watched his mother ignore him all the while she prepared the toasts and did the dishes.

He reached over at the corner, grabbed a napkin and picked up one of the dishes she had just washed.

“It’s okay,” Mrs. Bowman took the plate from him and dropped it on the other side without even looking at him. “I’ll do it myself.”

Trevor stood there, speechless and confused for a while, before he moved for the plate again. “Mum…it’s okay, I can…”
“No Trevor,” Mrs. Bowman’s voice was a little louder now as she looked up at him for the first time. “I’m fine. I’ll do it.” She then pointed to the island table. “Have your breakfast.”

All the while, Trevor never took his eyes off her. She spun away coldly and faced the dishes, clearly not giving a damn.
Trevor kept his eyes on her and suddenly felt his eyes sting; something he was becoming too used to. It was all becoming too much for him. He just could not take it. He couldn’t stand his mother hating him like the rest of the world did.

“You hate me too, don’t you?” Trevor’s voice was trembling now.

Mrs. Bowman paused and spun to her sun with a blank look.

She watched her son as he started to tremble; going blood shot with aging and filling up with tears. “P…Please…don’t hate me mum,” Trevor sobbed. “I…I don’t…I don’t have anyone else….please…I just..”
Before the boy could utter another word, his mother reached forward and pulled him into her arms. “Stop it, Trevor,” she spat. “Stop.”

Trevor cried and sobbed into her shoulders, without even finding the strength to wrap his arms around her.
They stayed in that warm embrace for a minute with Mrs. Bowman caressing her son’s hair, before they pulled away; her hands on either side of his face, and her thumbs on his cheeks. “You’re my son, Trevor,” Mrs. Bowman stated as she looked into her son’s sorrowful blue eyes. “I can never ever hate you. Never.”

Even though he was in pain, Trevor looked up at his mother and managed to crack a weak smile. He felt a lot more relieved when he caught a small smile play on his mother’s face as well.

“Come on,” Mrs. Bowman beamed as she rubbed her son’s back. “Let’s eat.”

“Uhm…sure. Okay,” Trevor smiled.