Thank you so much to Pete_L for editing and story suggestions for my first story. You're help is greatly appreciated!
Mike stepped off the bus and took a look around. Not much changes in sleepy southern towns like this. The old diner and attached gas station across from the bus depot still had peeling paint, old men in rockers out front, and the same gaudy neon sign proclaiming, "The Best Southern Fried Chicken in the State." He looked up Main Street and saw the same Civil War memorial with General Robert E. Lee standing proud and tall with one hand on his saber.
"Surprised that thing is still standing," he thought, shouldering his duffel bag and heading away from downtown. "I figured the council would have had it removed by now. Nearly every week there was some new wannabe rattlecan tag or other defacement."
Every block or so he saw someone he recognized but no one seemed to recognize him. That's what happens though when you leave town to join the Air Force and don't come back for six years. He had changed. Riverview never would.
He had grown three inches since leaving home at the age of eighteen. Now at six foot one and 215 pounds of hardened muscle, he hardly looked like the five ten 250 pound pudgy stoner he was when he left. Not only that but he walked with his shoulders back, head held straight ahead, and his arms swinging nine inches to the front and six to the back. Just like he had been trained. A far cry from the slumped posture, eyes on the ground, and shuffling gait of his younger years.
He dreaded making it to his destination and took his time, hardly looking at the street signs as he passed, since he made this walk his whole childhood when Mom worked at the diner. "Mom," he thought, remembering the last time he had seen or even talked to her. He had written after graduating Basic Training, sending her a picture of himself in his dress blues so she wouldn't worry, but didn't include a return address.
Six years ago to the day it was now. He left home and hopped on a bus to leave forever. But now, here he was. Walking home from the same bus depot he had used to leave home. "Funny how life is like that," he thought, automatically taking a shortcut through a fallow field. He passed through a small stand of trees on the edge of the field and looked over his boyhood neighborhood.
Midway down the block was his boyhood home. It hadn't changed much either. The paint looked fresh, there were flowers growing in the beds on the edge of the front porch and what looked like a new addition in back, but everything else was the same. The same willow tree grew over the septic tank, the same oak tree towered over the backyard, complete with the old tree house he and his best friend had built as boys and even the same mailbox.
"Why is Mama's maiden name on the mailbox now?" he thought, noticing the freshly applied sticker letters. He walked up the steps, hands now tightly clenched at his sides to keep them from shaking, and rang the doorbell. He heard the clicking of heels on the hardwood floors inside and his confusion grew. "Mom never wears heels. She is more of a jeans and tennis shoes kind of woman."
The door opened and he barely recognized his own mother. Five foot five, ten with the towering heels, and maybe 125 pounds soaking wet, with platinum blonde hair. This woman looked nothing like the short, plain and somewhat frumpy woman he remembered. She was wearing a nearly skin tight pinstriped dress, black Louboutins, stockings, makeup, and glasses.
"Ma-" he was able to choke out, before she threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.
"Mike!" she cried, tears beginning to form in her eyes at the sight of her long lost son. "Wha- What are you doing here? I thought you were in the Air Force. And what happened to you?" she asked, "You've grown and lost your baby fat."
"It wasn't baby fat Mama, it was just fat," he said, barely hugging her back. "My contract ended earlier this month and I was denied reenlistment. I didn't really know where else to go and they paid for me to get back here. I know I didn't leave on the best of terms and stayed out of contact, but I was hoping I could stay here for a bit, until I figure out my next move."
"Of course, Son," she gushed, "you can stay as long as you need or want. Come in, come in."
He followed her into the house, noting how great the old house looked with the completely redecorated interior. Now it looked like a picture from some upscale magazine with a brand new chandelier, modern furniture, and brightly painted walls.
"Whew!" he whistled, "the house looks amazing Mama. When did you redecorate?"
"We'll get to that in a moment, Son," she said, leading him down the hall. "First, I have something I need to tell you. Come sit with me in the kitchen. Oh, put your bag at the foot of the stairs for when you go up to your room," she added.
He dropped his duffel as requested and followed her into the kitchen.
"Oh wow! This must have been that new addition I saw out back," he said, looking over the massive kitchen. In the center was a huge island; complete with a butcher block counter on one side, a large soapstone sink on the other, and a high end countertop stove covered by a gleaming stainless steel hood. All the appliances had been replaced with stainless steel versions along with a new tile floor and all new black cabinets.
"Jesus Mama! How did you and Dad afford all this?"
"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," she said nervously, chewing on her bottom lip. "Dad and I got divorced about two years ago. Apparently he had an inheritance he was hiding from me, but my lawyer was able to prove he had it and get it awarded partly to me, along with alimony."
"Figures. Piece of shit," Mike snarled.
There wasn't much love between him and his father. He was the primary reason Mike left to begin with. His father, Charlie, was a tyrant of a parent. He pushed Mike harder than he ever had his older sister, Danielle, being harsh in punishment and infrequent in his praises.
"Are you okay Mama?" he asked, pulling her to him for another hug.
"Not at first," she said quietly, emotion making her voice quaver. "He left me, not the other way around. I shared some secrets and thoughts I had kept bottled up for a long time and he couldn't handle it. He screamed, called me all sorts of filthy and mean names, and stormed off. I was served with divorce paperwork a week later. But now that you are home, my son, I don't think I could be happier."
She stepped back, wiping her eyes carefully to avoid smudging her makeup. "I'm sure you are tired, baby. Why don't you go hop in the shower and I'll whip you up a bite to eat. Being the only one here I don't get to use this beautiful kitchen as much as I'd like. You can nap afterwards."
"Okay Mama," Mike replied.
He headed back to the stairs and carried his duffel up to his old room. While the main floor of the house had changed, as well as his mom, his room was exactly as he remembered it, just cleaner. His old posters of various swimsuit models were still hanging, his old computer still sat on his desk and even his old clothes were still hanging in the closet. He shook his head as he stripped out of his clothes and headed to the linen closet for a towel.
As he opened the closet, he didn't hear the soft gasp that came from the foot of the stairs. His mother was going to come up and put fresh sheets on his bed but stopped dead when she saw her son's naked body. What she hadn't told Mike was that the secrets and thoughts she had shared with his father were about him.
