It was rare he had to make an appearance in their home since he usually sent someone to make repairs. However, to have a plumber replace the drain and garbage disposal was more than he could afford right then. He’d just paid their mortgage, his rent, and his truck payment, but he’d be damned if he let his mom go another two weeks with a broken sink.
God pulled out his flashlight and wrench, and began to make quick work of the sink. He had to refer to a how-to YouTube video once, but he’d been able to get it done in the time he’d allotted. He closed up his large red toolbox, took his small hand towel out of his pocket, and began to shine up the sink. He bent down to pick up his toolbox when he heard the front door open and his brother’s deep voice reach his ears.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” God whispered while anxiously looking at the back door, gauging whether he could run past the kitchen opening without being seen… highly doubtful. He looked at his watch. It was only five-thirty.
Why the hell are they home now?
“Mom, are you sure you’re okay? You look exhausted.”
“Just need a little rest, son. Thanks for picking me up early.”
“No problem, go on up and rest. I’ll bring you a cup of tea.”
God was deathly still and probably pale as a ghost knowing he was about to come face-to-face with his brother. He wished it would be a nice reunion, but he wasn’t a fool. He watched Genesis drop his book bag and football gear in the laundry room, turn around and jump five feet in the air at the sight of God’s hulking frame leaning against their kitchen sink.
Upon realization of who he was, a hard scowl formed on his face and his fist immediately balled up at his side. “What the hell are you doing in my house?” he barked.
God looked into green eyes that were so much like his own. His mother had given those intense eyes to both of them. His brother was at least six-foot-two already at the young age of seventeen. The black-and-white Muddleton High School muscle shirt he wore showed off his solid chest and well-formed biceps. He immediately found himself hoping he didn’t have to ward off an attack by his brother… because it wouldn’t be pretty. God just stood there silently staring at his brother, wanting to hug him so bad his arms burned.
“Did you break in here, asshole?”
God flinched at his brother’s language.
“Honey, who are you yelling at?” His mother’s voice reached him before she rounded the corner and gasped at the sight of him.
She still had on her pink-and-white-paisley print volunteer smock. Her hair had a few strands of gray that had detached from her tight bun and curled haphazardly around her worried face. Christ, he missed her so much. For a split second God forgot that he was persona non grata and took two steps toward his small mom before seeing Genesis jump protectively in front of her.
“Cashel,” she said barely above a whisper. “Is that you?”
She doesn’t sound angry… maybe she’s not anymore.
“Yeah, Mom. It’s me,” he replied, his heavy bass drawl filled with emotion and hope.
“She’s not your damn mother,” Genesis barked.
“What?” God gasped at the absurdity. “She’ll always be my mother.”
He watched his mother ease from behind her youngest son and limp toward him. God thought maybe she was going to embrace him and scold him for staying away so long, then offer him a huge slice of raisin bread. Maybe she’d hug him and tell him she understood why he’d done what he had all those years ago, and it was okay, he could come home now… she’d missed her big boy so much.
He hadn’t even finished the fantasy before his mother drew her hand back as far as she could and slapped him so hard across his face that his hair came loose from the elastic band and fanned across his now-stinging cheek.
Genesis was at her side in three large steps, pulling her protectively to him. God kept his head down and tucked his hair behind his ear, his eyes burning with unshed tears.
“How dare you come here? How did you find out where we were? You bastard!” she screamed. “You killed my husband. Get out! Get out now! Don’t you ever come back here, or I’ll call the police on you!” She hobbled away, but not before God saw the tears, the hurt, and the disgust all playing across her usually angelic face.
He watched her do her best to get away from him.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered after her slowly retreating form.
“I said she’s not your mother.” Genesis shoved him hard, causing him to stumble over his toolbox, still on the floor at his feet. His large frame hit the floor with a heavy thud, making him wince at the pain now radiating from his shoulder. God saw the pride in his brother’s face at feeling like he had the upper hand.