✓18.5 - There's A Thief In My Turquet!

F R E D D I E

Sitting behind the wooden countertop, by his mother's side, and watching her make the sale rounds felt like forever. There was absolutely nothing he hated more than the town itself, and once in a tedious while the customers waved or greeted him and he could do nothing else than grow annoyed at them.

Their smiles and bright laughter reminded him of his ambient gloom.

Of course, he didn't feel whole without Gin. He couldn't help but miss her much. Her pale face, stooped figure, eyes which came alive whenever they looked his way, her soft, lengthy caresses with an effect that went beyond the physical and her shallow moans each luminous nights. Those were moments he cherished, minutes he couldn't retrieve. It made him bittered and pained because he couldn't forgive her. She'd done something hurtful, so hurtful that it made him mad than happy to know she'd be the mother of his child.

His mother had understood the strife and dejection which hung around him the moment he stepped out of the train station. She'd waited patiently for him to tell her what the matter was whenever he chooses. But she made it clear that such a mood and frustration were unheard of when it came to Rooney men. They knew how to handle their women and didn't just sit around with long faces, waiting for it all to come together. They fixed it themselves with or without external help.

"The last banana muffin, sold out." She slumped down on her ancient mahogany chair - the only piece of furniture in the very much sparse shop. Winter sales always boomed, it seemed the cold made the locals more hungry and lazy that clear-skied afternoons were spent indoors nestling over at the fireplace, sipping hot cocoa and baked muffins. "We'd have to double our cost. It's barely even seven o'clock yet and we're already short! We've got a long day ahead of us" She wiped off the large beads of sweat that creased her ruddy brows.

"I'll see if I can make some," he offered. Distractions. That's what he needed to keep going. He needed to get his hands working than just sitting around idly which made him feel out of place to the point of confusion. He decided to tell her. "But first, can I tell you something? It's kinda personal so I don't - "

"Freddie," she cut him off, her face breaking into a warm smile. "You're bad at this. Tell me what's going on."

He smiled, relieved that she'd called him to it instead. Joan had always been understanding, unlike his father. If Ralph had been here it'd have been a different story altogether. "Gin and I were having problems. So we broke up."

The edges of her lips curled in thought. "That's bad. Was it something she did? Couldn't forgiveness count?"

He shook his head slightly. "No. Forgiveness wouldn't fit,"

"Well, I hope you know what you're doing. She's a nice girl if you ask me."

"Yes she's nice but that's not the only thing bothering me right now," he leaned forward, burying his face into both palms. "She's pregnant."

He watched her face for something, an expression that meant panic but Joan fought hard. Her face - blank and drained of every emotion. She rested her back against the chair in silence. "You've not decided to foster it yet, have you?"

He was stunned. No, astonished would fit better. Surely he'd expected some young, overexcited nagging and general babble about the unborn baby but Joan had once again proved just how knowing she could become. Just one tip of the cloud and she'd claim the whole sky.

It made him feel more conscious. She could still read him inside out. "Not again lord," She lifted her chin upwards, gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Not another carelessness. I've had enough of it. Couldn't you both ensure protection first if you knew you wouldn't need a baby? And when do you intend to settle down? It'd better be soon, that's the only way out of this."

"Another carelessness?" he pointed out, puzzled.

"That's not the point here young man!" She snapped. "The problem is have you decided to foster the child? Marry Gin and start up a home? That is if you know what that means."

He scratched his head subtly. "Not quite. I told her to get rid of it."

Joan's hit had always been short, flip, and not so painful but the bulk she bore physically and with the most barbaric words resounding in her head — all combined weighed down roughly on both cheeks. He lay sprawled, eyes unfocused.

She regarded him sharply, her blue eyes that'd he often thought dreamy hardened like mist. "I never had a son. Not one so inconsiderate. Get out of here! Get going!! Leave!!!"

"Mother —"

"If only I'd known you'd turn out this way, maybe I should have flushed you out too while I still had you in my womb. You don't know what you've just done. You're an ingrate!"

His phone rang immediately, serving as a last-minute interception that was needed. Freddie felt rigid as he angled his cell out. It was Charlie alright.

"Hey bro," his tone was laced with concern. "How's it going over there?"

He shot his eyes back at Joan. She expelled a sigh of disappointment then stormed out.

"Yeah, nothing normal,"

Charlie whistled from the other end. "You sound dying. Anyhow, Carlie told me today about what happened."

"Carlie told you something?" his tone increased with surprise. He certainly didn't remember discussing anything with the lad. "That's impossible."

"You're impossible," Charlie barked. "I never thought you wicked enough to consider killing your seed."

"It wasn't a good option, I know." Freddie found admitting that a little bit easier, but his will resolve got bleak instead. "But it was the only damn thing possible anyone else could do."

"You haven't made up your mind yet, come on man, the girl's suffering. It's a baby we're talking about here."

"Is that the only reason you called me up?" He got bored. Charlie sounded a whole lot more like his father though the two had never met. A brief pause elapsed, right before the soul-chilling words. "Rodriguez is back."

He tried to act unaffected. "So? What's that got to do with me?"

"You aren't thinking this through, remember his threat last time? I think he's come to execute it. Lately, I've stopped by Gin's place and discovered it locked."

These assumptions always made him vain enough to hang up. Gin was fine, probably up to something only she knew. "Now you're sounding like a spooked storyteller for Halloween."

"It's not fun to make light of such matters. It could be important, Oscar's bad news." Charlie bristled.

His body coiled halfway, the whole store a whole lot bigger now. Joan returned with a steaming tray, barely sparing a glance his way.

"Alright," he boomed emphatically. "I'm on my way home. I promise to keep an eye on her as soon as I get back."

He closed his phone, then took a few short strides to the door. "I'll be leaving now mother."

"It's about time."

"I'm sorry for staying so short. I'll make it up," he turned.

"Oh, and Freddie" She paused. He stopped in his tracks. "See that the next time you come visiting, I'd like to see my grandchild."