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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1347192-Locked-Demons
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Emotional · #1347192
The power of memories.
         The husband smiled from the enclosed deck as he watched the children play on the new trampoline while removing another cold one from the cooler. Friends of his wife brought their kids over to enjoy the Thanksgiving feast with his family. Kids, from the newborn on his lap to the teenagers hogging the Play-station inside, packed the small ranch home.

         The young man sat in silence, enjoying the sounds of the revelry occurring all around him. His tall friend took over the grill, mocking the father's feeble cooking skills in a playful manner. The kids too big to play on the trampoline created water balloons and chased each other across the yard. His wife and some other women continued with food preparations in the kitchen behind him, their loud gossip drowning out the radio behind him. An occasional cheer from one the men sitting in the living room overtook all the other sounds as they watched the traditional Lion's game on the big screen. The man of the house sat in silence, rocking the baby sleeping in his arms, sipping on a cold Yuengling, a look of utter contentment on his serene face.

         "Phone, Lee." His wife's voice woke him. Lee had not realized he fell asleep.

         The rare phone call on his day off irritated him. Better not be work. "For me? Who is it?"

         "Auntie Red."

         A puzzled expression creased his brow as he pondered the reasons behind this rare call from an estranged family member. Lee passed the dozing baby to his wife and kissed her full lips in thanks. He took the cheap cordless from her and walked to the cluttered garage, closing the wooden door to suppress the din. While adjusting his crooked glasses, he spoke. "Hello?"

         "Hey Sugar." The years in Atlanta had not changed Darlene's Virginia accent much. She sounded the same as she did when he last remembered seeing her over twenty years ago.

         Lee suppressed a tired sigh, bracing himself for another lecture. "Hi, Auntie Red."

         "Haven't heard from you in awhile."

         "I been on the road, Auntie Red. I travel a lot."

         "So, you can't call your Auntie and wish her a Happy Thanksgiving?"

         Lee grunted in amusement. Her syrupy voice still held a playful tone as she berated him. "Happy Thanksgiving, Auntie Red. Sorry about not calling. I'll try to keep in touch better."

         He could almost feel his aunt's pleasure through the phone. "Good. I got someone here who wants to speak to you."

         Lee heard the typical muffling of a phone passing. "Hello, LeMarr."

         The high-pitched voice sent a familiar sliver of terror up his spine, clouding his thoughts of recognition. A small wave of dizziness forced him to place a smooth palm on the small deep freezer near the wall as he closed his eyes against the vertigo. The speed of his beating heart increased as panic swelled inside. A queasy feeling settled in his belly, turning his limbs to jelly. Lee fought this familiar foe with everything he had, willing some sense of equilibrium amidst the chaos of his suppressed demons. His voice was no more than a whisper as he found the courage to speak. "Who is this?"

         "Your Granny, boy. How you doing?"

         The voice sounded sincere, expectant, and almost apologetic. LeMarr heaved a heavy sigh, clenching his unoccupied fist in defiance against the fear, scraping for some semblance of pride. "Fine, Granny. How are you?"

         "I'm alright, just getting older. Haven't seen you since the funeral."

         Lee closed his eyes, slamming the door guarding the memory of his mother's recent death. "Sorry about that. I been busy." The young man nodded as a moment of clarity gave him the insight to his tormentor's call. His mother's death brought his estranged family together for a brief moment in time. Old enmities were set aside but not forgotten, never forgotten.

         Rage quenched fear as LeMarr rationalized the brashness of the phone call. The old hag was using his mother's passing as a stepping-stone to claw back into his life. The flame of anger burned away the repressed memories of his childhood; the beatings, the taunts, the punishments, the starvation, the insults. The muscles in his right hand became taunt as he squeezed the receiver.

         "What are you doing for Christmas, LeMarr?"

         The inferno of enmity did not give him the courage to tell his grandmother the truth. "I'll be on the road again, Granny, Oregon this time."

         "That's too bad. I was hoping to see you this year." The sadness in her tone surprised him. "Maybe some other time."

         "Yea, maybe next time." A chubby thumb pressed the end button on the phone, cutting short the last words from his grandmother.

         He opened the door and grabbed a heaping plate of food prepared by his loving wife. He stepped out on the deck. A dimpled smile greeted him as he sat down across the picnic table from his wife. "Everything ok?"

         Lee took in the scenery once more. He breathed the smoke laced with hickory, listened to the children at play, the high fives and taunts from the living room, the curses from the losing team from the Spades game next to him. He answered with a tight, thin-lipped smile as he reached for his wife's hand. "Yea, everything's fine."

Word Count:886
© Copyright 2007 Joshiahis (duggadugga at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1347192-Locked-Demons