Maria's Gift: Davy 8/8
Maria roared in Romanji as the serpent reared up as if to strike. She flung what looked like silver glitter onto it, and the snake burst into dust.
"Oh, my word!" Davy gasped, hands flying to his throat. "That was inside my throat?"
"Davy!" Micky whooped. "You sound British again!"
"No," Maria sighed, looking at the dust covering her shoes. "That was not inside your throat. That was merely a visual representation of what was holding your accent in check."
"But it worked!" Davy cheered. "I'm me again --- all me again!"
"So'm I," Mike said, hugging Maria one-armed.
Maria smiled, patting the arm as it was retracted. Then she reached her arms toward Davy, who all but flew into them. "All is well now, my little grub-chicks," she said, stroking Davy's hair. "All is well now."
"Maria," Peter said, pointing to the dust covering her feet.
She nodded, her smile growing. "It is... how do you say.... inert? Inactive?"
"Inert works," Mike chuckled.
Davy, holding on to her, manoeuvred them both to sit on the couch. He sat beside her. "Maria --- please --- why do you do this to us?"
"Ay, David," she sighed, cupping his cheeks in the palms of her hands. "As hard as it may be to believe --- it was from love. Each gift was meant to help you --- and each gift caused harm." She lowered her hands. "But this old hen has learned a new way to scratch. The next gift I send any of you will be from an American store!"
Laughter eased the tension, then Davy asked, "But why gift us? You've four boys of your---"
"They're all dead, Davy," Micky interrupted softly as Maria's eyes lowered and averted. "She told us while you were hiding in the bedroom."
"Dead?" Davy gasped. "Oh, Maria... I'm so sorry! How?"
"Kiko hung himself with his sheets," she said, her voice clogged with grief. "Rocco died of a fever. Zeppo was shot by a guard trying to run out of the yard. And.... and Marco...." She shivered. "Dear, foolish Marco. He was beaten and stabbed to death in a yard fight. The warden said his last words....were a cry for me."
"Maria," Peter said, squeezing her shoulder. "I am so sorry."
"So, you see...." She looked up, and her eyes were full of tears. "You four are the only sons I have."
And all four hugged her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria was returned to the prison a few hours later. Each of the Monkees promised to be better about keeping in touch, and she swore she would no longer send her special brand of 'gift'. Only the gift of letters and cheap trinkets.
The promises were kept on both sides, with the bonds of love and forgiveness binding them tighter with each passing month.
Four years of Maria's sentence was commuted for good behaviour. As she gathered her things, she fretted.
Where would she go in this country? What would she do? She couldn't ask her grub-chicks for help --- not after she'd hurt them so badly.
It was easy to speak forgiveness and love while she was in a cell and they were not. Now, that was changing.
The warden and a guard escorted her to the gate. As it opened, Maria gasped aloud at the sight before her. Both hands flew to her mouth and she began to sob.
Then her grub-chicks --- all four of them --- drew her into their protective, loving embrace. Slowly, they led the sobbing woman to their large red and white car.
Together, they brought their adoptive mother home.
END