NOTE: The first line of this story jumped out and mugged my imagination a while back. So I had to write something to go with it. Waddya think?
*****
Exodus 20:12
Don Bentley
"CHARLES LIAM WESLEY GUNN!"
Cordelia Chase-Gunn stared at her young son as he stood sheepishly in the kitchen doorway, his best friend Alex, as usual, by his side. Beyond the two boys she could see two of their friends, the Epstein twins, at the bottom of the steps.
The stocky eleven year old was dirty, and his clothing torn and stained, but that was usual for the active and inquisitive boy, and a state of affairs that she had long since stopped fretting over. Rather, in typical fashion, she had taught him to sew and do his own laundry.
No, it was the ugly purple bruise blooming around his left eye, the swollen and cut lip, the trail of bloody mucous that ran from his nose, and numerous other smaller bruises, cuts and scrapes that seized her attention. Alex looked as unkempt as Charlie did, though without any apparent injury worse than a bloody lip of his own. The sisters seemed every bit as disheveled as the two boys.
"You've been fighting?"
Charlie looked at his feet and answered in a soft whisper.
"Don't mumble. And look at me when you talk to me."
Alex elbowed his friend in a supportive manner, and addressed her on his behalf.
"It wasn't his fault-"
"I didn't ask you, Alex. Shouldn't you be at home? It's almost time for temple."
Alex fidgeted uneasily under her stare. While those kids who appreciated such things all thought Cordelia Chase-Gunn was easily the hottest mom in the neighbourhood, none were willing to risk her quick temper and sharp tongue. Only Alex would consistently accompany his friend home with bad news from school, or after an ill-advised adventure in the hills behind their homes.
In reality, her initial outbursts, however stellar, were always followed by motherly concern, care, and affection. But only Alex knew that, and he wasn't about to risk his reputation amongst the local youth population for exceptional bravery under fire by making it generally known.
But he'd never accompanied Charles home after a fight before. And he'd heard other stories about Cordelia that made him feel a lot less brave than usual.
Still. A friend had a duty to a friend. With a deep breath Alex started in on his hastily rehearsed speech.
"This afternoon after school Richard Bellamy called me a name 'cause I'm Jewish and took my kipah and later after soccer practice I was walking home with Sarah and Janel from temple when Richard Bellamy and Jonathon Postles started to pick on Sarah and Janel because they're Jewish too. I told them to stop it but they hit me and pushed me down and kept on picking on Sarah and Janel but then Charles showed up 'cause I told him about Richard Bellamy and so he followed me home so he could help and he told Richard Bellamy to stop but he wouldn't so Charles hit him but not really first 'cause Richard Bellamy hit me first. So there was a fight but we won 'cause Sarah and Janel and us made four against two so we scared off Richard Bellamy and Jonathon Postles," Alex paused for breath and pointed to the back of his head with pride. "Charles got my kipah back."
Throughout Alex's proclamation Charlie continued to stare at the floor, unwilling to meet his mother's eye.
Viewed through a mother's eye, and by any other standard as well, Charlie was a beautiful child. He had his father's dark colouring, his deep brown eyes, and strong jaw line. He kept his hair cut as short as possible, and Cordelia knew that it wasn't very many years before he'd start to shave it altogether, just like his Dad.
And on that day Charles Gunn Senior would break her heart all over again.
*****
Alex and the Epstein sisters were despatched to clean up in the washroom. They were ordered to report back to Cordelia first thing Sunday morning. All three agreed, though not without some trepidation. Sarah and Janel had heard many of the same stories as Alex, and even to his ears his whispered reassurances sounded more than a little hollow.
Cordelia tended to her son's injuries at the kitchen table, the well-stocked first aid kit opened before them. With a practiced eye she dismissed the need to seek medical aid and set about cleaning the cuts and scrapes after instructing him to hold a cold pack to his face.
The boy sat stoically as his mother quickly and efficiently cleaned him up. Neither said a word beyond Cordelia's curt instructions, until she was finished with him and, once they had washed up, his friends.
Cordelia closed the door behind the three youngsters and stared at it, letting her emotions out of the tight box in to which she had stuffed them upon first seeing her bloodied son.
"Charlie," her voice was barely a whisper. She knew that he was standing behind her.
"Mom?"
"Why?"
"'Cause o' you and Dad."
"We taught you to fight?"
"If I had to. To stick up for my friends, for people, like you do," his voice was small, tentative, afraid that he had somehow gotten it all wrong. "Like Dad did."
Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. He had put it in the kind of clear plastic holder normally used for valuable sports cards. The card was faded, and stained, but the unusual logo and the two lines of type were clearly visible.
'Angel Investigations. We help the helpless.'
He held it up over his mother's shoulder. So that she could see it. Cordelia took it from her son's hand. Turning around she leaned back and slid down the door until sitting on the floor at her son's feet, not taking her eyes of the card for an instant, not even as her vision blurred with tears.
"Where.... Where did you get this, honey?"
"Aunt Fred. Last time she was here. She found it in a book of hers. Thought that I'd like it."
Charlie knelt before his mother, tears welling up in his eyes. He'd never seen her like this. She was the strong one, she was.... She was Mom! He was starting to feel very frightened. He was making her cry! He'd done something terrible and now his mom was crying because of him.
He wiped at his tears and took his mother's hands in his as he started to stutter out an apology, as he tried to make her feel better. Somehow.
"No, honey, shhhh," Cordelia wiped away her own tears before taking her sobbing son into her arms. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Shhhh. I love you."
"B-but I'm making you cry!"
"Yes, but not on purpose, and not for a bad reason," Cordelia kissed him on the cheek and pulled him closer.
"N-no?"
"No," Cordelia took his face in her hands and looked him in the eye. So much like his father.
"Charlie, I loved your father, and I miss him a lot. Sometimes so much that it makes me... it makes me sad and it makes me cry. But, sometimes, like now, you remind me so much of him that, that you make me so happy that I have to cry."
"Sometimes, in bed, at night, I cry for Dad, too."
"I know, honey," she gave him a last hug before standing and holding him at arms length. So much...
"Charles, you did real good today, honey. Standing with Alex, being there for a friend. That's what your father did best. That's why I fell in love with him," she kissed him again. "That's why I'm so proud of you."
Cordelia took her son's hand in hers. "Come on. I'll tell you some stories about Dad. The one's I wouldn't let your aunts and uncles tell you."
She smiled as he grinned in anticipation.
"The good one's."
End
Exodus 20:12
Honour your father and your mother, that you may long endure on the
land which the LORD your GOD is giving you.
The Torah, (The Jewish Publication Society of America, Philadelphia,
1962.)