It was more of a mumble. It had taken a full two minutes for Margaret to decipher the voice at the other end. “Momma Bear?”, the soft voice was almost inaudible. Her heart had skipped a beat or may be there were three beats bundled as one. “Steve? Steve!”, her voice had almost let out a cry of joy, only to realize that the teen-thin voice wouldn’t belong to a near-forty year old Steve. Ï am Jamie…umm…Steve’s son”, the other end had answered. The next forty three minutes had been a forty versus three game. Margaret, who was always the soft-spoken one, had never ever spoken so long — for forty minutes at a stretch. Jamie’s three minutes had been more of nervous giggles and teen monosyllables.
Thinking of that February morning, Margaret let out a laughter. “Silly me”, she scolded herself. There wasn’t time enough for such thoughts, her hands were too full at that moment. She had to do the potatoes — jackets on, make the stew, change the throw-pillows….Throw pillows? Why would Jamie bother about faded throw pillows? But what if he didn’t like the pink, just like his father? “ Aaah,look at me. I am freaking out. Since when was I so bothered about throw-pillows or curtains?”, she mumbled to herself.
Margaret had stopped tending to her house after Steve had left. And here she was -keeping herself here, there and everywhere — cleaning tables, changing the shade, turning the oven on…. . It had been like ages since the house ever got dusted. The old curtains were removed and replaced by the favorite colors of Steve. Whenever she touched on an object she could feel the emotions attached with them, they would rush back like sea-waves.
Margaret had married her childhood flame Dave, when she was all of fourteen. Steve came after two years. Mom and son — Margaret and Steve — used to play “jungle” when Dave used to go on his long trips, driving his truck. Steve’s favorite was bear and he would cuddle up to Margaret. “Momma Bear”, were the first words he would call out. And she was his Momma Bear till Steve had completed school, Margaret would still have been his “Momma Bear” if that fatal day hadn’t turned him away from his family forever.
“Dude, this isn’t right….isn’t RIGHT!”, Jamie spoke to himself. It wasn’t right. It would never be right. Jamie knew it. But by now it was well beyond his control. He always had anger issues but the anger was always inside. But today it was different. Things with Steve were always difficult for Jamie. His father wasn’t really the ‘cool Dad’ a sixteen year old would wish for but today the ‘war of words’’ was too much for Jamie to handle. He had been planning of this day for weeks and now he wasn’t even happy that he ever thought of the trip.
It was more of a mumble. It had taken a full two minutes for Margaret to decipher the voice at the other end. “Momma Bear?”, the soft voice was almost inaudible. Her heart had skipped a beat or may be there were three beats bundled as one. “Steve? Steve!”, her voice had almost let out a cry of joy, only to realize that the teen-thin voice wouldn’t belong to a near-forty year old Steve. Ï am Jamie…umm…Steve’s son”, the other end had answered. The next forty three minutes had been a forty versus three game. Margaret, who was always the soft-spoken one, had never ever spoken so long — for forty minutes at a stretch. Jamie’s three minutes had been more of nervous giggles and teen monosyllables.
Thinking of that February morning, Margaret let out a laughter. “Silly me”, she scolded herself. There wasn’t time enough for such thoughts, her hands were too full at that moment. She had to do the potatoes — jackets on, make the stew, change the throw-pillows….Throw pillows? Why would Jamie bother about faded throw pillows? But what if he didn’t like the pink, just like his father? “ Aaah,look at me. I am freaking out. Since when was I so bothered about throw-pillows or curtains?”, she mumbled to herself.
Margaret had stopped tending to her house after Steve had left. And here she was -keeping herself here, there and everywhere — cleaning tables, changing the shade, turning the oven on…. . It had been like ages since the house ever got dusted. The old curtains were removed and replaced by the favorite colors of Steve. Whenever she touched on an object she could feel the emotions attached with them, they would rush back like sea-waves.
Margaret had married her childhood flame Dave, when she was all of fourteen. Steve came after two years. Mom and son — Margaret and Steve — used to play “jungle” when Dave used to go on his long trips, driving his truck. Steve’s favorite was bear and he would cuddle up to Margaret. “Momma Bear”, were the first words he would call out. And she was his Momma Bear till Steve had completed school, Margaret would still have been his “Momma Bear” if that fatal day hadn’t turned him away from his family forever.
“Dude, this isn’t right….isn’t RIGHT!”, Jamie spoke to himself. It wasn’t right. It would never be right. Jamie knew it. But by now it was well beyond his control. He always had anger issues but the anger was always inside. But today it was different. Things with Steve were always difficult for Jamie. His father wasn’t really the ‘cool Dad’ a sixteen year old would wish for but today the ‘war of words’’ was too much for Jamie to handle. He had been planning of this day for weeks and now he wasn’t even happy that he ever thought of the trip.
Öops….he tried to control his unsteady grip as a truck zoomed past. He knew it wasn’t right. He should have never opted for the drink before he hopped on to the wheels but it was too late for him to undo what was done.
“Steady…Jamie…steady boy…steady”, he tried to talk himself into calming his nerves. Just then he saw the lights — blinding, unnerving….
“Goodbye world”, he mumbled, his hands shaking beyond control.
(What happens to Jamie next? Does Momma Bear ever get to meet him… wait for our next)
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