Beneficence
I went off to do math but came up with this instead!
Title: A Mother's Gift
Rating: G
Word: Beneficence
She leaned against a wall, catching her breath between sobs. Damn gym didn’t do me a bit of good. Honestly, she hadn’t run like that in years!
This was just ridiculous. Had she not seen the things she’s seen-The mannequins! The aliens!-she would have assumed Rose was mixed up in drugs. That “The Doctor” was some new hip word for a drug dealer.
But Rose was better than that. Both mother and daughter made some bad choices in their lives (Who hasn’t?), but as Rose approached adulthood, she applauded herself for raising her daughter well. She knew her baby girl was the embodiment of good.
That’s just the thing though. She sighed. The panting subsided, and though her vision was still blurred from tears, the sobbing became a gentle cry. Resting her weight on her own legs rather than on the wall, she started to move back towards the flat.
She hadn’t been able to give Rose all she wanted. When the mysterious red bike appeared by their door when Rose was twelve, she simply let her daughter hug and thank her before riding off with Shireen, happy for once her darling had more than just the essentials.
The essentials. She always prided on being a single mother and able to provide these to Rose without financial help. Food, clothes, a home even when Rose came back to her after a nasty breakup with her boyfriend.
But one gap she could never fill for her daughter was the one Pete’s death created. Death so cruelly stole him. She had nothing to offer Rose but nighttime stories about her father and his adventures. He did though; that mysterious alien had Pete in the flesh to present to Rose.
Oh, Pete. She met you? I wonder what passed between you two. She must have thought you a right off sod. Well you were, really, but you were our sod. Something in you inspired her in a way I never did. I gave her the basics, but nothing our Rose actually needed.
She reached the door to the flat, about to enter, sink into the couch, and call up one of her mates to take her mind off of this madness. But her hand froze on the doorknob.
So useless. That’s what I am.
It’s not like she hadn’t tried. All the men she dated, though they were in good fun, were inspected in a silent deliberate test to see if they could not only fill the emptiness in her heart, but the void in Rose’s as well. Rodrigo, for example. He was a good and sweet man, stopping by nearly every day in his work truck to treat them to supper. Why, if it hadn’t been for finding out he already has a Mrs., she would have…
Rodrigo. Truck.
In a split second she was dashing down the stairs, running down streets, turning corners, reading signs and trying to remember where he lived, surprised by her own sudden speed and enthusiasm.
I’ll be damned if this works, but it’s worth a try. My last chance to offer Rose what she really needs.
Wilmhest Street, that’s the one. Her run slowed to a jog, scanning the complexes for his. She found it by recognizing the obnoxiously large yellow truck parked out front, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The letters on its front screamed “Rescue”. You have no idea.
She knocked on the door and smoothed her clothes in anticipation. Oh God. I hope the Mrs. isn’t around. But it really didn’t matter. What would have been a week’s worth of drama to gab about with her mates didn’t mean the least now. All she cared about was helping her daughter.
A telly within went silent; footsteps slowly approached the door. She racked her brain quickly in need of a reasonable account to explain her sudden desperation for a work truck. Unable to find one, she remembered he owes her a favor, seeing that as her best and only reliable approach.
The door opened. He stared at her in alarm. “Jackie?”
Deep breath, “Rodrigo, I need to borrow your truck.”
Title: A Mother's Gift
Rating: G
Word: Beneficence
She leaned against a wall, catching her breath between sobs. Damn gym didn’t do me a bit of good. Honestly, she hadn’t run like that in years!
This was just ridiculous. Had she not seen the things she’s seen-The mannequins! The aliens!-she would have assumed Rose was mixed up in drugs. That “The Doctor” was some new hip word for a drug dealer.
But Rose was better than that. Both mother and daughter made some bad choices in their lives (Who hasn’t?), but as Rose approached adulthood, she applauded herself for raising her daughter well. She knew her baby girl was the embodiment of good.
That’s just the thing though. She sighed. The panting subsided, and though her vision was still blurred from tears, the sobbing became a gentle cry. Resting her weight on her own legs rather than on the wall, she started to move back towards the flat.
She hadn’t been able to give Rose all she wanted. When the mysterious red bike appeared by their door when Rose was twelve, she simply let her daughter hug and thank her before riding off with Shireen, happy for once her darling had more than just the essentials.
The essentials. She always prided on being a single mother and able to provide these to Rose without financial help. Food, clothes, a home even when Rose came back to her after a nasty breakup with her boyfriend.
But one gap she could never fill for her daughter was the one Pete’s death created. Death so cruelly stole him. She had nothing to offer Rose but nighttime stories about her father and his adventures. He did though; that mysterious alien had Pete in the flesh to present to Rose.
Oh, Pete. She met you? I wonder what passed between you two. She must have thought you a right off sod. Well you were, really, but you were our sod. Something in you inspired her in a way I never did. I gave her the basics, but nothing our Rose actually needed.
She reached the door to the flat, about to enter, sink into the couch, and call up one of her mates to take her mind off of this madness. But her hand froze on the doorknob.
So useless. That’s what I am.
It’s not like she hadn’t tried. All the men she dated, though they were in good fun, were inspected in a silent deliberate test to see if they could not only fill the emptiness in her heart, but the void in Rose’s as well. Rodrigo, for example. He was a good and sweet man, stopping by nearly every day in his work truck to treat them to supper. Why, if it hadn’t been for finding out he already has a Mrs., she would have…
Rodrigo. Truck.
In a split second she was dashing down the stairs, running down streets, turning corners, reading signs and trying to remember where he lived, surprised by her own sudden speed and enthusiasm.
I’ll be damned if this works, but it’s worth a try. My last chance to offer Rose what she really needs.
Wilmhest Street, that’s the one. Her run slowed to a jog, scanning the complexes for his. She found it by recognizing the obnoxiously large yellow truck parked out front, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The letters on its front screamed “Rescue”. You have no idea.
She knocked on the door and smoothed her clothes in anticipation. Oh God. I hope the Mrs. isn’t around. But it really didn’t matter. What would have been a week’s worth of drama to gab about with her mates didn’t mean the least now. All she cared about was helping her daughter.
A telly within went silent; footsteps slowly approached the door. She racked her brain quickly in need of a reasonable account to explain her sudden desperation for a work truck. Unable to find one, she remembered he owes her a favor, seeing that as her best and only reliable approach.
The door opened. He stared at her in alarm. “Jackie?”
Deep breath, “Rodrigo, I need to borrow your truck.”