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The Color Excerpts (Oct. 10, 2016)

 

 

As I gathered my thoughts, I noticed a petite woman staring
at me. She reminded me of an owl perched on a branch with her
yellow eyes never blinking in my direction. She had gray hair, and
her body looked like it had broken down years ago, but she was
standing strong. She looked like she wanted to ask me something,
but she stayed frozen in that one spot.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked.

Her trance was broken once I spoke. “I was just wondering.
Are—are—are you with Michael?” she stuttered.

“Yes, I am. Why?” I asked cautiously.

“I heard the news, and I came right down.”

“Do you want me to go get him?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I’m not staying for long. I just
wanted to see how things were going. Are you his wife?”

No one had ever asked me that. Did I look like his wife? “Uh,
well, I—”

“What are you doing here?” Mike interrupted with a rage in his
eyes. He stepped directly in front of me with his fist balled up. His
arteries were poking out of his neck. I looked at the woman over
Mike’s shoulder, and she looked like she had seen a ghost.

“I said, what are you doing here?”

The woman fidgeted with her fingers. “I came to check on her.”

“Nobody wants you here. As a matter of fact, who told you anything
about what happened?”

“Someone from her neighborhood called me.”

“I didn’t know drug addicts had phones.”

The woman took a hard swallow and looked down to the
ground. “I was just leaving.”

“Good! It would make things a lot better if you did.”

The woman hung her head, turned around, and walked toward
the exit. Before she got to the door, she stopped. She turned
around with her yellow eyes filled withwith tears. “She is my mother,
Michael. Don’t forget that,” she said.

“That may be true, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re
nothing to me. So I don’t care what you do, but you have to get the
hell out of here.”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “Mike, is this your mother?”

“My mother is in a hospital bed resting, and she doesn’t need
any negative energy surrounding her.”

“Mike, if this is your mother, she has the right to see your
grandmother.”

Mike snapped his head in my direction. “You know what? No
offense, but I don’t think I should be taking mother advice from
you.”

“I’m not saying take a family portrait. I’m just saying be a little
considerate.”

“I considered it—and decided t to ask her to leave instead of
throwing her junkie ass out of the window.”

“You know what? It’s OK,” the woman said. “I overstayed my
welcome. I’ll just leave.”
Mike’s mother wasted no time in leaving.

“That was a real dick move, Mike.”

He walked away without saying anything.

 

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The Color of Love

Ty Mitchell

Author: Ty Mitchell

I write books and help writers get through their literary journey. I am the author of The Color of Love. Each week, I send out a newsletter with free tips on writing and creativity. Follow me on Twitter @Ty_Mitchell or on Facebook @the-vpf.

Ty Mitchell

Ty Mitchell

I write books and help writers get through their literary journey. I am the author of The Color of Love. Each week, I send out a newsletter with free tips on writing and creativity. Follow me on Twitter @Ty_Mitchell or on Facebook @the-vpf.

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