This story was started years ago and was intended as a book.
Louis heard his father’s car start and knew he had only a few minutes. He ran on his toes to his parents’ room, opened the door to his father’s closet, and quickly located the 357 Magnum, fully loaded as always. Just as quietly, he carried it carefully back to his own room and placed it under his bed, hopped back under the covers, and slowed his breathing.
A few seconds later he heard his mother’s footsteps in the hall. She knocked on his door, waited a few seconds, and entered.
“Rise and shine!” she called, putting on her ‘good morning’ voice. Louis knew the voice was only for him—no way did she feel it was a good morning. Not after what he had heard last night, and many nights before that. The arguments had become more frequent over the months, and increasingly loud and bitter.
“I’m awake,” he said.
“Oatmeal in twenty minutes,” she said, and added, “It’s chilly out; grab a jacket.”
“I will.”
He lay still for a few more minutes, thinking about going to school, already hearing the taunts. “Hey Louis, turn sideways and stick out your tongue. You’ll look like a zipper.” “Hey, crater face, you born on the moon?”
He wondered why some people just seemed to be born cruel. Well, no more.
Eugene Canton backed his Celica out of the double-car garage, looking at his wife’s old Chevette and feeling a twinge of guilt. She was the sensible one. She’d drive that car until it wouldn’t go another inch. No ego problems with her. Not much wrong with her at all really, except that she was boring to him now. The days of John Lennon glasses, food co-ops, and playing on the beach were long gone. She’d never be talked into smoking another joint or renting a porn movie. Ordinary, ordinary, ordinary, which made him think of Kay. He couldn’t wait to get to work to see her. Always fun, cute, dressed to please, and game for new experiences.
Glancing into his rearview mirror, he lifted the front of his hair a little higher. He had just gotten the new haircut and thought it looked darn good, made him look younger. The blond hi-lights had been a good idea--Kay’s idea, of course. Just enough incipient gray on the sides to be interesting. Not bad, he thought.
Claire Canton walked back toward the kitchen to start the oatmeal. She just couldn’t shake the tiredness this morning. She pulled her gray hair back through her fingers as she glanced at herself in the hallway mirror. Maybe she should color it, she thought. Now she pulled her neck and cheeks back and up with both hands and stared at herself. Where are you, Claire Davenport? What happened to you? Maybe Gene was right. She did look too old for her age. She ran her finger over her once full lips and noticed her wedding band. She slipped it off and continued staring a few more minutes before clasping it in her hand. Well, she would look young in comparison to the people she was about to go and take care of. For now she had breakfast to cook for her son. But before starting the oatmeal, she uncorked Gene's favorite wine and dropped in the ring.
Louis dressed carefully. No stand out clothing—a long-sleeved, round-necked knit shirt, blue jeans, tennis shoes—a regular guy. He ate a few bites of the oatmeal while his mother was in the kitchen.
“Bye, Mom,” he said when she walked by and kissed the top of his head and out the door. Then, to himself, I love you.
He headed back up the stairs and retrieved the gun from under his bed, placing it in the top of his backpack. Then he walked through the house, looking at pictures on the wall, and at the attempt his mother had made to make this house a home. Making it to the bus stop just in time, he hopped on and headed for the back, not greeting anyone.
Gene was leaning over Kay's desk, pretending to ask her about a new life insurance policy she was working on. “Lunch?” he whispered.
“I made some great egg salad this morning,” she whispered back. “How about my place?”
He smiled and said aloud, “Thanks, Kay. Good job.” He walked back to his desk, looking at the clock. Eight-thirty. He thought, guess I'd better try to get some work done.
Claire had arrived at exactly 6:45. She always did, allowing no time for pre-work gossip while clocking in and quickly throwing her things in her locker. The night shift and day shift nurses were huddled in the glassed-in foyer office, getting ready to exchange necessary information about patients for the transition between shifts.
The school bus arrived right on time. Big Ben and his friends were walking in from the parking lot where he parked his new Camaro. “Hey, Thread!” One of Ben’s entourage yelled at Louis.
Louis pulled off his backpack and took out the gun. “Hey, Ugly,” he yelled back. They all stopped and turned to look at him. He pointed the gun at Ben, then at the boy next to him. Ben fell to his knees and begged, “Please, no. I’m so sorry.” The others were showing varying degrees of terror.
But then Louis turned the gun, placed it under his chin, and said, “Does this make you laugh?” And he pulled the trigger.
Screams filled the air and within minutes the added screams of law enforcement and ambulances. Students were running in all directions.
Hearing the sirens at his office, Gene thought that there must be a bad accident. He proceeded through the morning anticipating his lunch with Kay. Mid-morning he saw the officers coming. Oh, no, he thought. No, no, no. Please not my family. He desperately wanted to be with his wife. That would never happen again.
He identified the body of his son. His only child.
Claire sat down quietly in her supervisor’s office, and slipped into another level of consciousness that only intense despair can cause. No one would ever know her thoughts; she never spoke again. No psychiatrist, no medication could break through. She died two weeks later. Her heart stopped beating.
Your story is so current, regardless of the era. Bullying has been around too long and so have family problems that never seem to quite go away. The way it is written touches deeply anyone who reads it. Your writing is near the top of my list of best authors.
Too bad you had to live this so often, Lark. I hope this helps you iron some of the deepest pains. There ought to be proper words writers and recreators can use to express what so clearly cannot be shared. I hope you have someone to hug you.
A page-turning novel about a relationship between best friends that is interrupted because of betrayal , deceit, sexual promiscuity and pregnancy happens!
Suspenseful and close to home, Rain of Deception 2 will leave you in Tears. Much like Part 1, this will shocking sequel will keep you on the edge of your fingertips.
