Penny was sipping the second cup of afternoon tea, welcoming the familiar buzz. Just enough alcohol to warm her cold soul when the doorbell suddenly rang.
“Well hells bells, who is here?” Penny peers out the bay window, looking towards the front patio. Anyone peering out at this angle should see who was at the front door. However, this individual was hiding in the perfect blind spot. “Hmm, I am not answering it. If I can’t see you, well then you can’t see me.” Straightening her newspaper to an erect state, she continued reading the obituaries.
The doorbell rings again followed by a manic pounding on the front door and a muffled cry.
Now Penny felt uneasy, thinking about the crazies who wander off the mountain trail, searching for money just to get their fix. Doesn’t happen often - especially when the patrol car is parked out front - but when the cold settles in, people become desperate.
No need to fear, Penny knows how to protect herself, the family, and The Home.
The pounding and ringing of the bell continue as Penny walks towards the china cabinet. While standing on her tippy toes, she reaches above her head to grab the reliable home security device. There is a rattle to the drawer as she opens and inspects the drawer’s contents. With a loud popping snap, she holds the device tight, ready for the idiot standing on the other side of the door.
Silence follows as she stands squarely in the hallway. She’s not scared. Nor shaky, not even anxious. Just utterly pissed that her afternoon tea was disrupted. There will be hell to raise for anyone who interrupts this sacred ritual. She taught students for 35 years, raised two boys into adulthood alone, and watched the man of her dreams take his final breath in this life. Nothing in life scared her. Not even a random loony could upset this strong woman.
With bated breath, she waits for one more knock or ringing of the doorbell. What happened next, she wasn’t fully prepared for.
“Momma, I know you’re on the other side of the door.” The strange voice floated through the door. “Is the shotgun loaded?”
“What do you think?” Penny said while holding the shotgun steady.
“If I know anything about my fearless momma, she has the gun fully loaded with the barrel placed against the door set at the midsection. Hell, you probably have your finger on the trigger, ready to pull.” A pause, “you’ll do anything to keep this house and your family safe.”
Penny faulted for a split second and let the shotgun drop towards the floor as if the stranger on the other side of the door had an invisible string attached.
A heavy sigh escaped from Penny knowing full well who was standing on the other side. “Clyde, why are you here?”
Another silence and Penny readjusted the gun to point upwards.
“Momma is that how you greet your long-lost baby boy?” Clyde says.
“Damn straight you are lost!” Penny shouted. “Now get off the porch before I blow a hole clean through you.”
This was no empty threat. She would pull the trigger. Blood didn’t mean much once a family member dragged their name through the mud.
“Please can we just talk? I promise to leave but I want to talk with the only person who truly understands,” Clyde pleads. “You’re the only one who can calm my demons.” This was a blow to Penny and the warmth of love filled her bosom. Keeping the shotgun in hand, she unlocked the door and cracked it open. “Don’t pull any funny shit Clyde or I’ll blow brains out.”
Clyde nodded in acknowledgment.
Penny stepped aside and allowed the youngest son to walk past the threshold. As soon as he crossed the barrier, a creak reverberated throughout the house. There was more than just momma greeting Clyde home.
“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen,” Penny said leading the way, shotgun still in hand.
“Are you still planning to use that?” he asked sarcastically.
As if on cue, Penny whirled right around bringing the gun to Clyde’s eye level. “Don’t test me, son. You know what I am capable of,” she spittled.
Raising his hands in protest, he simply said, “yes ma’am.”
The tension grew as the chill settled further into the room. Another creak broke above their heads as if another guest was making their presence known.
One.
Two.
Three seconds passed with no one making a move.
Never breaking eye contact, Penny motioned her head towards the kitchen. “Go on, you take the lead.”Clyde moved around the gunslinger woman he called momma, keeping his hands up like a hostage.
“Sit,” Penny said when they finally reached the breakfast nook.
Clyde plopped down. A whiff of alcohol, sweat, and urine filled Penny’s nostrils.
“You reek like a homeless man,” she said with irony. “When was the last time you showered?” Penny asked while sitting across from the unexpected guest and placing the shotgun gingerly across her lap. Pointing the barrel away from Clyde but remaining strong and in control.
Clyde ignores the question and takes inventory of the messy kitchen. Spotting the whiskey bottle on the counter, “did you just finish your afternoon tea?”
Shockingly enough, Penny laughs. Not just a giggle but a full belly laugh. A second, more sinister laugh joins along.
Goosebumps creep over Clyde’s skin.
After catching her breath, Penny begins to interrogate. “So why are you here, Clyde?” “Glad to see you too, momma." Her eyes roll with such exasperation that the neighbors could feel it from across the way. “Last time I saw you, you were passed out on the curb and I had to call Edmund to pick up his drunk brother.”
“Correction, I was high.”
Penny brings the gun to chest level, “oh that’s right. You like to smoke dope get stupid drunk and live on the streets, leaching off society. Did I get it right this time?” She says with a wicked sparkle in her eyes.
“Where did I learn such habits, mother? Maybe from my alcoholic parent who chose to numb out her pathetic life and completely ignore her children?”
“Stop saying that,” Penny seethes through gritted teeth.
“Or maybe I choose drugs and alcohol to escape the truth,” Clyde admits.
“What truth?”
“You know the truth!” Clyde yells in response. “How can you still live in this demonic house where everything happened?”
“Clyde, stop talking about The Secret.”
“Why, what will happen? Will the house banish me just like my loving momma did? Is the house ashamed of me, like you are? Because admit it, when you couldn’t cope with dad’s death, you turned towards the bottle. You turned away from the kids you birthed. And you allowed this house and everything connected to it to swallow you whole.”
“I said STOP IT!” She was yelling, the gun shaking from the intense interaction.
“Guess what momma? Even though I am homeless and a drunkard, I still chose to escape this wicked family. I’d rather sleep on the streets instead of sleeping inside this home!”
In a sudden jolt, Penny was standing tall with the shotgun barrel aimed directly at her son’s chest. “Get out.”
With a pitiful shake of the head, Clyde looked at his hands before following the command and stood up. “Looks like I warmed out my welcome.”
“You think?” Penny spit sarcastically.
He trudges to the front door, keeping his hands by his side. Knowing full well that Penny did hate her youngest son but she would never shoot a man in the back.
He opened the front door and made a final attempt to explain the random visitation, “momma. I am sorry but…”
With such spite and hatred, she simply states, “I don’t give a rats ass what you have to say. It was your choice to turn away from the Terrell family. You are never welcomed here again.”
At that exact moment, a patrol vehicle pulled into the driveway, with concern etched across Edmund’s face.
