Demons to the Devil - [James, John and Margaret]
James hadn’t intended to find himself at his parent’s house. He’d woken up with Chase, enjoyed a quick breakfast, kissed the younger man goodbye -drat the luck that Robert had to work today- and then settled in to do some chores around the house.
( The phantom demons had started to whisper to him while he’d been at the grocery store. )
( The phantom demons had started to whisper to him while he’d been at the grocery store. )
“No. I’m sorry, Mom.” Wilson looked at his mother with sad eyes and repeated softly. “I’m sorry.”
Margaret had been an intelligent, perceptive woman back before the misdiagnoses and the drugs had stolen her mind from her and she could see that James meant more than what he was saying. Her dark eyes filled with tears and she wrapped her fingers around his arm, her mouth opening but it was John’s voice, which filled the room.
“Very well, James Thomas. You said you wanted to talk to your mother and me?” John very subtly twisted the knife he knew was buried deep in his son’s heart by putting an emphasis on the word ‘mother’.
Wilson worked his back teeth together out of aggravation with his father and also because, he really hadn’t thought this out at all. When he went to tell a patient they were dying, he had it thought out. Even if it seemed like he was talking in the spur of the moment, he was using phrases and tones, which were long practiced.
But there were no pretty phrases or long practiced words for what he had to do right now, for what he had to say.
After all, how do you prepare to break your mother’s heart?
“John, I told you not to come to my house unless I invited you. You chose not to listen. I’ve asked both of you for some time and some space. Again you can’t seem to listen.”
“What do you mean?” Margaret gasped with obvious horror growing.
“I mean…that I just need some time, away.”
“You mean you need some time to get…”
“SHUT UP!” James moved quickly to silence his father before the older man could make the disparaging remark the oncologist knew was on his lips.
“Don’t you DARE talk to me like that in my own house!” John was quick to bellow back.
Yelling, aggression…these were John Wilson’s paints and he was skillful in the way he used them. Closing the distance between the kitchen door and his eldest, he used his height and his anger like an invisible fist to drive James back, to make him give ground and Wilson felt his muscles twitch, kinetic memory screaming at him to obey his father’s body language.
No…NO!
Sucking in a shaky breath, James held his ground and faced his father directly.
“Why should I listen to you, when you won’t afford me the same courtesy in MY OWN HOME?”
John’s fist was pulled back so fast Wilson didn’t even have time to blink but an icy cold washed through his veins and he heard his own voice from far far away, cold, deliberate, snarled out through his teeth.
“Go ahead, John…or would you rather get the broom?”
For the second time that day, the weighted silence fell broken only by the tick of a clock somewhere in the house. John was frozen, arm cocked back…sober…he had only his anger to motivate him rather then the added fire starter of the alcohol and so his hand just hung there.
“Oh how about a chair?” James felt more connected to his voice to his body…the cold was gone, replaced by fire and he bit his own tongue as he continued. “Or a fly swatter, or a sauce pan, or a garden hose or how about scalding water? That was fun.”
“Shut up.”
“There we go! Words, how about the words, Dad? You’re a master with those, lets go for the words. Remind me again how I’m worthless, useless, and completely hopeless. How I can’t perform the most simple tasks like wipe my nose and blow my ass…that was always a nice one.”
“Be Silent.!”
“NO! This is why it’s stopping, Dad. This is why I haven’t called Mom…because of this… because of you, because of her. YOU DID THIS!”
“SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!”
“MAKE ME!” James was yelling by this point. “Go ahead, Father that’s your favorite isn’t it? Get your hands around my throat and squeeze?”
“JAMES!” Margaret cried in shock.
“That’s why I told him not to come to my house… MY house uninvited, Mom. That and because if he cannot keep a civil tongue in his mouth about someone I love, then I don’t need him!”
John’s face was purple by this point but his hand lowered and he simply closed his fists at his sides.
“You want distance, James Thomas? Fine, get out.”
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When James didn’t immediately come to her, Margaret keened a low level wail and turned to disappear down the hall towards her bedroom.
Wilson firmly kept his eyes on his father.
“What is it with you, John? Why do you have to hurt everybody I love? Mom, Matthew, David, Rob…you absolutely cannot stand for me to love anybody, can you?”
John chuffed. “All about you, isn’t it James Thomas? Get out. Get the FUCK out of my house. Go back to your cocksucker and get out of our lives. Your mother and I are done putting up with your bullshit.”
“My bullshit?” Wilson cried, incredulous. “What the HELL are you talking about?”
“Yes, YOU. You and your damn… know it all attitude. As if you’re better than the rest of us in this family. Well I have news for you, James Thomas, you’re not better than any of us, you a damned little sycophant who has just ass kissed his way -who knew it was literal- through life.”
Wilson just stood there, looking at his father. “You know… Rob was right…you’re insane.”
“Get out. You’ve done enough damage to this family. We don’t need you and we certainly don’t want you.”
“Really…and how about my money, Dad? Do you want or need that?”
John smiled nastily. “You really do like to pimp yourself out, don’t you?”
“You are…unbelievable.”
“And you are unwanted. Close the door on your way out.” John turned and walked down the hall towards his wife’s room, leaving his son standing in the living room of his childhood feeling like a stranger.
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