Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Mother - Flash Fiction


  MOTHER

She was just getting ready to rasp a little ginger over the concoctions when the screen door to the mudroom snapped shut.

“Mom,” a disembodied voice called from the foyer.  “I’m home.”

Mom threw a smile into her voice as she returned the greeting, “I’m in the kitchen, Sweetie.”

She glanced up from her preparations as Jerry came through the kitchen door and dropped a thick book with his along with his eight-inch electronic pad with a thump on the counter.  When he reached up and pulled two sides of his pony tail to tighten the Harley Davidson hair tie, she realized she was beginning to get used to his college look.

Nodding toward the counter, she asked, “A book?  I thought everything was electronic now.”

Jerry pursed his lips.  “Yeah, the stupid thing cost a fortune.  They haven’t updated manufacturing factory construction since 1974.”

His eyes lit up as he sidled up to the side of the island.  “Fruit cups.”  He reached for one.

Mom, in a blur that would have put a frog catching a fly to shame, slapped the back of his hand.  “Not for you.”

He jerked his hand back.  Redness already blooming above his knuckles.  “Ow… Just one.”

“Nope, these are for the Women’s social gathering at church.”  She shook the ginger root at him.  “Don’t touch.  I need ten of these.”  With that, she stopped and pointed her finger at the cluster of fruit laden glasses and counted, her lips forming numbers silently.  “Need three more.  You want to help.”

“Sure, Mom.  Just torture me.”  He grinned and pulled over an empty glass and held it up.  It was blue translucent with green swirls and hints of red and purple streaks running through it.  “This is pretty.  What’s it called?”

“Depression glass.  I found a set of twelve at a second-hand store in Leavenworth.”

“Kewl.”  He set it back down.  “How do you want it stuffed?”

“Like the others, Honey.  Just vary the layers some.”  She pushed a bowl of blackberries his way.  “Make it look pretty.”

Twenty minutes later, they gently put the ten glasses of fruit in a box that had been a case of Monster energy drinks. 

“Jerry, would you put these in the back of the CRV.  Be careful, support the bottom.  I have to go up and change.”

Jerry slides the box of the Women’s social treats over the edge of the island to rest on his splayed fingers underneath.  “Get the door, Mom.”

She held the door for him and watched him slowly ferry the precious cargo around to the back of the Honda.   Letting the door close, she went up to change. 

#

Jerry waved his foot under the bumper, and the hatch latch snapped, and the door slowly rose.  He ducked his head and slipped the fruit filled glasses onto the deck and wedged them between the first-aid kit and a shelving kit he figured was a project mom had gotten for dad.  He grinned wondering if dad knew it was there.

Back in the house he gathered up his factory book and personal pad and headed to his room.  Soon as mom left, he would have some peace and quiet until his two sisters got home.  He figured he could get in at least an hour reading.

“Jerry.” 

Through the cracked door to his room, he heard his mom call from downstairs.  He swung off the bed and opened the door.

“Yeah, Mom,” he yelled down the stairs.

She came to the bottom step.  “Would you clean up the kitchen for me, please.”

Oh brother, what nerve.  He didn’t even get a fruit cup, and now she wants him to clean up the mess they made constructing them.  “Okay, Mom.  No problem.”

Jerry clambered back onto the bed and picked up his book as he heard the back-door slam.  With a sigh, he got up and headed to the kitchen. 

In the middle of the island was large flower vase filled to the brim with all the fruit cup fixings.  A card sat on the counter before it.


“Jerry, this is for you, for helping me. – Love Mom.”

1 comment:

  1. Wonderful story! I remember my mom doing things like that when I was little.

    ReplyDelete

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