Watermelon Blueberry Banana Split
2 large bananas
8 “scoops” watermelon and/or cantaloupe
1 cup blueberries (or raspberries or strawberries)
1/2 cup vanilla yogurt
1/4 cup granola
Peel bananas and cut in half crosswise, then cut each piece in half lengthwise. For each serving, lay 2 banana pieces against the sides of a shallow dish. To make watermelon “scoops” use an ice cream scoop to create balls of watermelon. Remove seeds, if needed. Place a watermelon “scoop” at each end of the dish. Fill the center space with berries. Stir yogurt until smooth, spoon over the watermelon “scoops”. Sprinkle with granola. For a real treat drizzle a little blueberry fruit syrup over the top.
Alice
Sven Today
If I can do 8,366 words in three days, including two days that are not good for schedules, then I will have written 70,000 words during the Sven challenge. I won’t have finished the book, but I’m close. Actually, if I could count words that were written for FanLit Forever entries and Suzie blogs I’d be well over 70,000. But alas, I can not.
I wrote 10,508 words since last Sunday. I was shooting for 20,000. Oh well. I’m quite pleased with myself. I’m once again going to go for it with the expectation that I won’t get the full 8,366 words written, but that I might come close.
Alice
Suzie’s House 50: On the Case
Ben is moving out of the house. Miranda is afraid it will prove to be the beginning of the end of the little family she is trying to build. Drew has been injured. Vin is still recovering. And Cindy’s party only ended a few minutes ago. It’s been a busy day.
“Hi. Are you Suzie? I’m…” Christina almost gave her real name. Then she caught herself. “….Christina. I was at the party next door.” She waved from the porch at the converted house where Cindy lived.
“I’m Miranda.” The woman shook her hand. She had the sure grip of someone who shook hands frequently.
Miranda? As Christina looked the woman over, taking in the red hair with streaks of black, the tight, rhinestone-studded jeans and the silky, low-necked top she recalled Cindy saying Suzie was the ultimate home maker where her best friend, Miranda, looked like a street walker turned gypsy. She kicked herself for not thinking of it to begin with.
“Well come on. Suzie’s in the kitchen with everyone else.” The woman lead the way through a nice old house full of hardwood floors and delicate furniture.
Two men and a boy sat in chairs around the kitchen table. The boy had flung himself across the tabletop and sobbed endlessly. A fine-boned woman with sandy brown hair stooped over the man who had been on the sidewalk, holding a wadded up dishtowel to the back of his head. Christina remembered the man was called Drew. The woman must be Suzie. That meant the other man would be Vin.
“Hey everyone.” Miranda gestured toward Christina, then wrinkled her brow. “What did you say your name was? That’s right, it’s Christina.” Miranda answered her own question before Christina could. “She was at Cindy’s party.”
“Hi.” Christina flipped her hand up at the wrist in a restrained greeting. “May I sit down?”
“Certainly.” Suzie straightened up. She pulled a chair out and waved toward the seat.
“Thanks. I just wanted to make sure everyone here was all right. When I heard the gun go off I was afraid Sean or Joseph might have shot someone.” Which was still a possibility since she had managed to touch each of them in most of the places they’d keep a gun, but not all. She thought it unlikely either had been armed at that particular moment, but couldn’t be sure.
She’d found a fair amount of blood on the stairs. It didn’t look like it had come from Drew, which meant he must have hit one of her suspects. She told herself she was here to check out the maniac who had pointed a gun into an apartment full of people, but there might have been another reason too.
“Sean or Joseph?” The guy with darker hair and a rounder face, the one who must be Vin, leaned forward. “You know those guys?”
Drew, now holding the dishtowel to the back of his head, also turned interested eyes toward her. In fact, everyone was looking at her with sharp interest, even the boy. Everyone tensed. The air became far more charged than it should have.
Like a chasm opening at her feet, Christina felt like she’d stumbled upon a really, really big mistake. She didn’t want to say too much, but she had to get these people talking. She shrugged, trying to make it look casual.
“Not real well, but yes, I know them.”
“Where are they now?” Drew asked.
“I have no idea,” which was the God’s own truth, much to Christina’s frustration. Their cell phones were both going directly to voicemail. She seriously doubted she’d find them at Joseph’s place and Sean didn’t seem to have a real home.
“What can you tell us about them?” Both men had hard expressions that reminded her of some of the guys in her department.
Then it struck her, they both looked like cops.
“Did you hear a gun go off? Were you shot?” Christina asked Drew, though she already knew he’d been hit with a bat. It had to have been his gun that went off. She was going for a diversion while she considered the possibility these men could mess up her espionage case.
Miranda snorted loudly. “Not today, but one of them shot Vin a week or two ago.” She gestured at the man with darker hair. “And the same one hit Drew in the back of the head with a bat just now.” She gestured to the man with the dishtowel, confirming Christina’s guesses.
“How horrible!” Joseph had actually shot someone. Recently. She’d always known he was capable of it, but to meet someone he’d tried to kill put a chill in her bones.
“We think it’s because Drew is an FBI agent investigating him, and Vin is helping him…”
“Miranda! That is enough!” Drew gave the pseudo-gypsy a hard look.
He must not do it often because Miranda’s jaw dropped. Vin gave her hand a squeeze. There were so many undercurrents in the room that Christina couldn’t keep track. She set it all aside. She was an agent under cover. She had to remember that.
“Oh, it’s OK. I won’t tell anyone,” she said.
Judging by the hard look in his eye when he glanced at her, she wasn’t likely to learn much more from Drew. Maybe it would be better to pump Miranda for information some other time. Christina shifted uncomfortably, unable to decide the best way out of this. Christina glanced toward the door uneasily. She had an urge to bolt.
“Drew. Stop. Can’t you see you’re scaring her?” Suzie stepped forward and put a gentle hand on Christina’s shoulder.
What a nice lady. If Christina weren’t in counter-intelligence, she would be very grateful for the support.
Drew leaned back, his eyes still hard, but apparently unwilling to badger her in front of Suzie. Vin was a different story.
“Tell us everything you know, and I mean everything.” His eyes shone with the light of the righteous in a full snit. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. If someone had shot her, she’d want to go after him too.
But she couldn’t very well give these men any real information or she’d loose her first solo case. Time to babble.
She shrugged.
“I don’t know very much. I think they are both real cute. I met them at the Caribou bar, the one on Johnson Street over by where the laundry mat used to be?” This was technically true. It hadn’t been the first time she’d met them, but no one needed to know that. “They drink beer. I remember thinking the bottle looked good with Sean’s hair.”
She went on in that vein for several minutes, giving no real information and making herself look like a ditz. She even started twirl her hair. It didn’t take long for the guy’s eyes to glaze over.
Suzie went to the phone on the counter and placed a call. At first, Christina was afraid it was to the police or someone else who might screw up her investigation, but the few words she could catch sounded too personal, so she relaxed.
Miranda proved a bit more cunning. She settled into the chair next to the boy, who was watching Suzie with a worried look on his face. Christina found herself talking to Miranda, almost pleading her to believe the line of BS because no one else was looking at her.
“Sean and Joseph are both nice boys. I can’t believe either one of them would harm a fly,” Christina lied through her teeth. She fervently hoped this job wasn’t going to get her sent straight to Hell.
“You must not know them very well,” Vin said, bringing his gaze from the ceiling back to her face.
Christina smiled. That was exactly what she wanted everyone in the house to think. She shrugged again, trying to look helpless. “I guess not.”
“You should stay away from them,” Drew said rather paternally. “They are both dangerous men. As Miranda said, one shot Vin and the other tried to kidnap Ben.” He gestured toward the boy.
“You must have been very frightened,” Christina said to him. Cindy had mentioned him but Christina hadn’t taken much note. Now she did. Kidnapping was a federal offence – yet another way in which the FBI agent could scoop her case.
Ben looked around the table, and burst into tears. He must really have been frightened by the attempted kidnapping. Poor kid.
“It’s all set,” Suzie said to the boy as she placed her hand on his back. “Your father will be here in an hour to pick you up. I’ll pack your things and take them over later.”
You’d think the boy would be relieved, but if anything he cried all the harder.
.
.
Suzie’s House is fueled by your comments. If you enjoyed today’s episode and would like to see more, please leave a comment.
The previous was Suzie’s House 49: Unraveling
This is Suzie’s House 50: On the Case
Next is Suzie’s House 51: Something to Think About
Thursday Thirteen #11
Things I Learned This Christmas
I meant to post this last week, but had a different one keep coming up on me. So, though it’s a bit late, here is my post-Christmas review.
1. Christmas isn’t the same for everyone.
2. Snow helps a lot for Christmas spirit, but it’s not so good for trees.
3. Family makes all the difference.
4. It’s better for the whole family to make a big adjustment than for one person to be left out.
5. You can’t expect everyone to say “I lurve you” all the time.
6. Don’t eat too many of those Mint Meltaways at once. They’ll make you nauseous.
7. Self imposed deadlines don’t hold up under the weight of peer pressure.
8. Too many no-school days in a row without planned activities will bore the kids.
9. Bored kids are hard to live with.
10. A photograph of a gift you gave each other, even if it’s a big one, isn’t as fun to put under the Christmas tree.
11. A ten year old CAN live without Santa.
12. But you can’t replace Santa gifts with sox and underwear and expect her to be happy.
13. A joke about “purple bloomers” can become a tradition if you aren’t careful.
I had a little blog code melt down today. Pardon me if things are wonky. It won’t let me put Mr. Linky back up or even add links manually to this post. I’ll try to link to you in a follow up. Leave a comment with your URL.
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By George! The King Knows How to Handle Money
When we left off Mr. Al was telling us that George IV had run into a bit of trouble with money. Again. Take it away Mr. Al.
His Majesty informed the Prince that he could not consider asking Parliament to bail him out without first knowing how much was owed. He appointed one Colonel Hotham to go over the receipts. Even with a staff, it took him over a month to come up with a figure. The total was 269,878 Pounds, 6 Shillings, 7 1/2 Pence. Gulp!
The average ANNUAL wage of a semi-skilled farm laborer at this time, a group that made up a big part of the population, was approximately 40 Shillings. And that was for a 10 to 12-hour day of manual labor, six days a week. The average life expectancy of these fellows was 19. The women didn’t last much longer. Just a little something to give you some perspective.
Although most of Hotham’s figure was construction and home furnishings, a fair amount was also gambling debts. The Prince’s stable contained a large number of very expensive racehorses. Unfortunately, he didn’t win enough races with them to cover his expenses. It was not unknown for his Highness to drop thousands of pounds on a single race.
This was the expense that really burned dad’s britches. Spendthrift was one thing; at least he had Carlton House to show for it. Gambling was money thrown into the gutter. He demanded that the Prince justify his behavior and swear solemn oaths that he would mend his ways. The Prince felt rather put-upon to receive such a demand from his father, even if he was the King.
In a snit, the Prince wrote to his dad that he would not have the Prince of Wales to kick around anymore. He wrote that he had, “No reason to expect either at present or in the future the smallest assistance from His Majesty.” Dad’s reply? Tough noogies boy! What are you gonna do? Get a job? If only! You’ve made your bed, sonny-boy, now sleep in it. Or words to that effect.
He was not totally devoid of feelings for his son’s situation however. He told the Prince that if he were to seriously consider getting married he would do what he could to get Parliament to vote him a subsidy. Dad had chosen not to believe the wild rumors about his son being secretly married to a Catholic. God’s whiskers! Not even the Prince was that daft!
What dad wanted was a marriage to a nice German princess. Protestant, of course. Never! Cried the Prince. Let Prince Frederick get married and produce heirs to the throne. He wanted nothing to do with German princesses and babies! Dad came back with a counter-offer. I’ll consider paying your bills if you dump your Whig buddies. Especially that Fox guy. Dump him and I’ll pay your bills.
The Prince was affronted that dad would even suggest such a gross act of betrayal. Why, he was so affronted that he decided to do something rash. Something that would show dad, hell, show the world, that the Prince had his principals.
Research
Me: I need the name of a little pocket pistol that a white supremacist in the woods would have in his pocket.Mr. Al: a derringer?
Me: No that’s too Wild West. I’m not writing an historical here.
Mr. Al: A derringer is Wild West?
Me: It’s too classy for this guy. I need something modern. And small.
Mr. Al: Right. A “pocket pistol.”
Me: *arching an eyebrow enquiringly.*
Mr. Al: I’m combing my hair here. See? See me combing my hair? *flicks comb through long gray strands at the front.* I’ll let you know when I think of it.
Me: Okay. *flouncing off to computer.* But make it quick because I’m in the middle of the word right now.
Turkey Artichoke & Tomato Tapas
1 pound turkey tenderloins, cut into 3/4-inch medallions
2 teaspoons olive oil
1 jar (6 ounces) marinated artichoke hearts, drained, halved; juice reserved
1 to 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
1/8-1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 large clove garlic, minced
6 to 8 cherry tomatoes, halved
In large non-stick skillet, over medium heat, sauté turkey in oil 4 minutes per side or until turkey is golden brown, no longer pink in center, and meat thermometer, inserted in thickest portion of tenderloin reaches 170 degrees F.
In medium bowl combine artichoke juice, vinegar, oregano, pepper flakes and garlic. Fold turkey and artichokes into mixture. Cover and refrigerate overnight.
Before serving, fold in tomatoes.
A Sigh for Sven
The Sven challenge ends January 15th. That means I have just over one week in which to write about 20,000 words. I got some writing done this week, but none of it was in A Miss for Mark, so it doesn’t count for my Sven thing.
I doubt I will meet my original goal. I won’t finish the book in a week, nor have done an average of 1,000 words a day. But I can come close. I’m going for it.
Alice
Suzie’s House 49: Unraveling
It’s been a while since we’ve had a look inside Miranda’s head, but she has her own take on what’s happening with Ben. Remember how she thought of the household as her personal creation, like a do it yourself family? Then things got a bit out of hand for her.“No!” Ben screamed at the top of his lungs.
Miranda had never seen anything like it before. Ben just wasn’t the sort of kid who threw temper tantrums. Even when Suzie and Rob were hip-deep in the kind of nasty name calling divorce that made movies Ben had been a rock.
Now he thrashed, and shook his head. His face went beet red. He screamed “No!” over and over again.
“What’s going on?” Miranda wasn’t sure she should ask. She had been on her way to the kitchen to find out what was taking so long with the bag of ice Suzie had promised for the bump on Drew’s head. If this turned out to be as bad as it looked, Miranda could get sucked in like a pig in quicksand.
“Please, don’t make me. Don’t make me.” Ben flung himself at Suzie’s feet.
“You have to understand. It’s for your own good.” Suzie stooped protectively over him.
“What is going on!?” Miranda started to feel a little panicked. When Suzie said stupid things like, “it’s for your own good,” it was time to run for cover.
“I’m sending Ben to live with Bob.”
“No!” Miranda cried right along with Ben.
It was happening already. The house was falling apart. Miranda had barely rolled out of bed with Vin and look; Suzie was sending away the one person she loved more than anyone else in the world.
Ok, so maybe it didn’t have anything to do with Miranda. And maybe it did. Maybe Suzie didn’t want Ben to see two unmarried people fooling around under the same roof as him.
“Um…. Why?”
“Why? Isn’t it obvious? I’m sending Ben to his father for his own protection.” Suzie gave Miranda an irritated glance before turning her full attention back to her child.
Which told Miranda exactly nothing. Did she mean endangering his innocence? Or his health?
Vin kept her from asking something really stupid by coming through the door right then. “You’re sending him away because of the red headed men?”
Suzie nodded. Miranda hid her sigh of relief. It wasn’t her fault after all. Then she tensed again as she realized it didn’t matter. The results were the same. Ben was leaving them.
“But I thought Drew was going to…” Miranda didn’t bother to finish the sentence. She closed her eyes in regret. Drew had promised to protect Ben, but he hadn’t done a very good job of it a few minutes ago. If it weren’t for sheer luck, the red headed men would have kidnapped Ben.
Ben sniffled. The poor kid, he looked from one to the other of them, his eyes pleading for support. Miranda felt for him. His father was every bit as lousy as her own. There’s no way Miranda would have sent her own child into a life like that.
“But can’t we…”
Suzie cut her off with a glare. And what could Miranda say? That they simply wouldn’t let the boy out of the house again until the two men were caught?
Two, rather than one. It blew her away to think all this time they’d been afraid of one man when there were two and both were out to get them.
Drew staggered into the room, his hand on the back of his head and his eyes narrowed in pain. “What’s going on?”
“Oh! Your ice!” Suzie extricated herself from Ben to hand Drew a lumpy, dripping dishtowel.
“Drew! Please, let me stay. Please?” Ben clawed his way to his feet using the table as Drew eased into a chair on the other side.
Suzie quickly and gently explained that she felt it would be best to send Ben to his father’s apartment for a while. Drew look stricken, but he nodded agreement.
Ben turned to Vin, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. He turned to Miranda.
All this time Miranda had been afraid Vin would tear her heart out and grind it into the dust if she ever let herself really love him. Never once had she worried about Ben. Ben was just a kid. How could he possibly tear her up inside?
And yet he did. Simply by looking at her with his heart in his eyes, pleading her to take up his cause he made her bleed inside.
“Suzie.” Miranda nodded toward the hall.
“Stay right here.” Suzie put a hand on Ben’s shoulder before passing Miranda on the way to the hall.
Once they were around the corner and presumably out of earshot Miranda turned to Suzie. “Are you sure he’s safer with his father than he would be with us? Are you absolutely sure?”
Suzie pulled her head back, her brows furrowed. “Of course I am,” she said, though she sounded like she still needed to think about it.
“The thing is, if Bob is a much like my old man as I think, then maybe Ben would be better off with us, redheads or not.”
“I… um…” Suzie shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. Bob is Ben’s father. He would never hurt Ben. He isn’t abusive.”
“No. Just neglectful.”
Suzie huffed angrily. “Look, Miranda, I appreciate your concern, but this is not your business. Ben is my son, not yours. It’s up to me to determine what’s best for him.”
Miranda opened her mouth to argue, then stopped herself. Suzie was right. It wasn’t her business. It wasn’t like Miranda had a maternal bone in her body. She had no idea what was best for Ben. Suzie Hammacker was the ultimate in home makers. She probably knew this stuff by instinct alone.
Still, it burned from her chin to her belly button to have to look Ben in the eye and shake her head when they went back into the kitchen.
Tears rolled down Suzie’s face. She took a shuddering breath. “You’re going, and that’s final.”
Ben wailed. He dropped his head to the tabletop, covered it with his arms and sobbed. Every tear he shed made Miranda want to cry too.
The previous was Suzie’s House 48: Birth of a Scream
This is Suzie’s House 49: Unraveling
Next is Suzie’s House 50: On the Case
Thursday Thirteen #10: Reasons My Husband Is Glad I Write Romance
1 – I find him inspirational.
2 – He’s developed a taste for the office floor.
3 – He loves to help me do research.
4 – He likes hanging out in the library while helping me do research, even if I’m just looking at fashion plates from 1810 instead of battle fields.
5 – He thought the research involving the closet was interesting. Hey, I needed to know how things… um… lined up.
6 – He’s hoping someday one of these books I’m always writing will sell.
7 – I promised to take him to Ireland if one of my book sold. I called it “research.”
8 – He thinks it’s cute when I mutter to myself, especially if I gesture sword motions or car chasses while I do it.
9 – He thinks writers are cool.
10 – He like to read my copy of Romance Writer’s Review.
11 – It lead to both of us entering the Avon FanLit contest.
12 – He likes pens as much as I do.
13 – He loves it when I ask him about guns. Hey, I’m working on a Romantic Suspense. I need to know these things.
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Italian and Spanish
Natasia, our resident glob trotter who knows several languages, got to talking about English, Spanish, French, and Italian today. She said this:
“When I go to Italy I speak Spanish with an Italian accent and they understand me, even compliment me on my Italian. LOL. It’s just singing Spanish.”
The phrase “singing Spanish” struck me as profound. She still doesn’t see it, but maybe you do. 😀
Alice
By George! The Prince is in Debt
As we have seen, debt was something the Prince had begun piling up in his early teens. Some of it was the result of opportunistic place seekers who wanted his Highness in their debt. A much larger portion of it was gambling and partying. But it wasn’t until he acquired Carlton House that his debts hit astronomical figures.
One of the reasons, perhaps the main reason, his debts were so high was not only that he wanted the best of everything, which, of course, he did, but also because he was being grossly overcharged simply because he was the Prince. If the Duke of Sussex paid 30 pounds for a silver embroidered waistcoat, the Prince was charged 150. It went like that for everything.
The Prince was a walking credit card. When he saw something he wanted, he’d say “Have it delivered to Carlton House and put it on my bill” He never asked how much something cost and never thought to question the merchants and contractors who billed him. More to the point, the King, who was scandalized by his son’s expenditures never thought to question the bills either.
When the King eventually did intervene in the Princes financial affairs, neither he nor the men he appointed ever went after the Prince’s creditors and questioned them about their bills. Of course, no one would expect the king to lower himself to such depths. But it is surprising that such a step never occurred to the Princes financial watchdogs.
This does not explain the whole matter of the Prince’s debts. Another important point is that the Prince seemed totally oblivious to the whole idea of money. It was something that was always there. No matter how much mom and dad might carry on about money, they pretty much gave the Prince whatever he wanted. Eventually.
To give you an example, when the Prince, actually King George the IV, died in 1830 an inventory of his possessions turned up 700 wallets. These wallets contained over 10,000 pounds! The guy didn’t pay any attention to money. Except when he wanted a lot of it ASAP.
Dad liked to carry on about the Prince being a slug. No industry, no desire to better himself or make himself productive. The bitter fact of the matter was dad wouldn’t let him be or do anything. With his other boys it was a simple matter of sending them to Germany to continue their “education” and then forgetting to allow them to return home.
He couldn’t do that to the Prince of Wales. The whole point to the Prince of Wales is that he would one day be king. But until that day, he was just the Prince. And since he refused, point blank, to allow the Prince any role whatsoever in government, and business was for the “Lower Sorts”, the Prince had little to do but go shopping. Boy, did he go shopping!
Anyway, as we rejoin his Highness we find him, once again, in financial peril. He goes to dad, hat in hand. Dad was willing to talk about it, with a few conditions.
Hot Date Surprises
While visiting relatives over the Holidays I went through the old family recipe file. I like this one mostly for the name. 😀
1 pkg. hot roll mix
1 pkg. pitted dates
1 c. water
¼ c. melted butter
24 pecan halves
¼ c. grated orange rind
1 c. sugar
Prepare roll mix according to directions on the package. Stuff each date with pecan half. Divide dough in thirds. Roll each pare out on a lightly floured board into a circle ¼ inch thick. Cut into wedges about 1 ½ inches at the wide end. Brush with melted butter, and sprinkle each wedge with orange rind. Place a date on each. Roll up from wide end and place on a greased baking sheet. Bake at 400 F. for 12 min. Combine water and sugar. Sprinkle a little of the sugar water mixture over each roll. Continue baking for 3-4 min. Yields 2 dozen.
I hope you all have hot dates tonight, with not so many surprises.
Happy New Years
Alice
Sven? Sven who?
I haven’t written a word in A Miss For Mark since last week. I refuse to feel guilty about it.
Alice
Who is ON VACATION
Suzie’s House 48: Birth of a Scream
Previously on Suzie’s House, Suzie said to her son, “Ben, you’re going to have to go live with your father for a while.”
The scream built slowly. At first Ben could not think at all. He knew what his mother had said – that he would have to go live with his father – but the words refused to make sense.
Once he overcame the thickness of his own head, he simply couldn’t believe it. Mom knew how he felt about Dad. She knew he didn’t want to live with him. She was on his side. She would never do this to him.
A joke. It had to be a joke.
She wasn’t smiling. If anything she looked as if someone had just died. Someone she loved a lot.
He shook his head. She couldn’t mean it. Could she? Pressure built behind his eyes, like they were going to explode or leek or something. He blinked hard, trying to keep his eyes clear, but it wasn’t doing much good. Not that he was going to cry or anything. He was way too big to cry. Besides, if she was serious about sending him away she’d say so, wouldn’t she?
She did. She had. She never looked this serious when she didn’t mean something.
Didn’t she know what it was like for him? But how could she? He ever told her.
The time Dad locked him out because Dad’s latest girlfriend wanted to run around naked Ben had never said a thing. He walked home, like he did lots of times, and he didn’t say anything, and Mom didn’t ask. She just said he was always welcome at home.
The time Dad threatened to make it so Ben couldn’t go to Great America with Mom because he refused to scrub the kitchen floor with a toothbrush, Ben just waited to see what would happen. Nothing ever did. Ben wasn’t sure if Dad said something to Mom about it or not, but he remembered her saying on the phone that a guy couldn’t take away privileges if he wasn’t the one to offer them to begin with.
Ben’s chest tightened. He didn’t want to have to scrub the kitchen floor just because there was no where else for him to go. He didn’t want to wander around town because Dad didn’t feel like letting him in. The scream inside him still hadn’t made it out of his throat, but it was getting louder. He hick-uped when he tried to breathe.
What about school? Would Mom come and pick him up, or would it be Dad? Ben remembered the time Dad got mad at Eric Johnson for skateboarding too close to the car. He got out and started yelling and yelling like some cranky old man. Ben sunk down in the seat, but people still knew it was him. Some of the kids teased him for weeks and Eric threatened to take his lunch money. Ben never said anything about it to Mom.
And now he was going to have to live like that all the time.
How could she do this to him? Hadn’t he been good? Hadn’t he done everything Mom wanted? What had he done wrong? What? When? It wasn’t fair!
He tried to swallow the yell, but it wouldn’t wait any longer. Something inside broke. He could feel it like phlegm in the chest. It broke, and all the smarting behind his eyes and all the anger, and everything he had been holding back all this time came flooding out. The scream was free.
The previous was Suzie’s House 47: For the Greater Good
This is Suzie’s House 48: Birth of a Scream
Next is Suzie’s House 49: Unraveling
