It dawned on her that someone was at the door, it could have been William or Mr. Fullin’s Daughter or even him, the one she'd longed to see. The pebbles crunched as the car drove up to the entrance. Next came the steps of a young man who went straight into Beckingham Manor without hesitation. He closed the buttons of his shirt, fixed his straight dirty blonde hair by running his fingers through them then sucked his teeth. He entered, pushing both doors open, with a “Mother, I’m back!” and a grin.
“So you haven’t moved from there since I left, have you?” He added.
“You sound just like your father. You look like him too when you do that thing with your face.” She raised her glass to where a portrait stood, just over the fireplace.
He greeted the woman with a peck on the cheek. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jodi.” He sat down, holding her hands and looking at her admiringly.
“That.” She mocked. “If he didn’t do that, I wouldn’t have had you.” She swung her glass around lightly as the red wine danced in it. Words slipt from her tongue as she placed the cup to her lip. “What a mistake that was.”
“Speaking of my father…” He tapped the back of her hand lightly before sitting up. “Have you talked to him?”
“Of course, he claims he’s in South Africa.” She gave a slight chuckle, not one to laugh a joke but one that brushed off the fact that he’d peg her for a fool.
He placed his hand on his chin, caressing it as he asked. “So where do you think he is?”
“Ugh, your father’s in Washington, William. Definitely.” She brought herself up and then walked to the fireplace. She said it in such a low tone “I can tell.” Then she rubbed the marble mantle over it.
“How do you know?” He flipped his foot up on his thigh, eager to hear her answer.
“Because I heard her, that tramp snoring as he spoke.” She took off the ring she wore, looking at it, concerned and hell-ridden “William…”
“Yes, Mother?” He looked up at her.
William was dashing and handsome, he carried himself well. Some say he only looked good because he was rich and if he had money… to any woman, he’d be the man of their dreams. He had this way of looking at people, women in particular, even his mother. He used his eyes, they’d look like they were half closed but they were also bright, bright, and sky-like. They were just like the color of his mother’s eyes. And her traits with his father’s were a recipe for the “Perfect man.”
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She sighed before saying. “Is it possible that one day, your father would stop calling?”
“He has everything here. He wouldn’t do that.” William said, he soon reached his mother’s side once more. He rubbed her shoulders and kissed her forehead, slowly whiffing her hair before letting her go. He was so comforting to her, William used to tell her that he'd never leave her side and she knew her son meant every word.
“I’m going to take a bath.” He unbuttoned his shirt as he made his way out the door and up the staircase.
His mother slipped the ring back on her finger, looking at the diamond as it changed every time she moved her hand. She pushed some hair back and grabbed hold of her glass before four words left her muttering mouth. “I wish he would.”
What happened to him? Was he just to marry to give her the name Mrs. Beckingham and then leave?
She took refuge in the library and began pondering on her husband… when did it all fall apart? She was feckless when it came to the man she loved. They were settling fine when they’d just eloped with his father’s money. Was he a bigger thief than she was? His greatest heist must've been stealing her heart. He was way over the line, wasn’t he? He was supposed to be there for her. Even after all these years, she still loved him and this love grew to give her a melancholy feeling, a pain in her chest when something reminded her of the days when they were young and playful. Then life moved on as it should and he wanted to follow the showgirls and streetwalkers. Mrs. Beckingham heard that the girl he was with now was half her own age, almost as young as William. She was a beautiful and smart lass, a sly fox. When Jodi heard that the woman had entered law school, she couldn’t help but laugh. He'd been outsmarted. He was hiding his money from his own wife and child, just to give it away to this girl. When the well ran dry, Jodi was sure this girl would seek sanctuary elsewhere or maybe she was smart enough to build her own well beforehand. And where would her husband be? He’d be left to come back home, with his wife and child or to continue being a host to a new parasite. His good looks were only a bonus to these “other women”, it was his money they were after. What was the difference between them? She knew him when he was dirt poor and she still loved him, she still loves him. Now? He was out there giving her love to other women but that didn’t stop her from waiting. If he hadn't any more love to give and he just pretended, Jodi wouldn't cry or fret or regret, she'd be thankful he was home and with her son. But she’d rather a pretense than the cold stone truth anyway and she’d rather a pretty fantasy than an ugly reality. She didn’t mind drowning them out with a drink or two, the naysayer and gossipers. It couldn't be harder than that, figuring out how she is the way she is, why she was a sophisticated drunkard.
And It all started six years ago.
“He wasn’t blind but he sure acts like it.” She would discuss this with her mother-in-law. When that old hag died, he left for the US of A and up until now, he's been ''traveling the world''. That was putting it mildly.
She was now the Mrs. Beckingham, the china doll of the estate; she looked pretty and well put together but the slightest push would break her into pieces. The only thing that held her now was the alcohol and the identical image of her lover, which was her son.