Vignette - Entitled

“What path have you imagined, Candidate?”

“I was born to a family that built this nation. With every brick layed we contributed! I have lost far more in the fall than others. I was born better than them. I am superior to the commons. They have grown foolishly independent in recent years. For their own good I will influence them into the correct frame of mind. For I am owed and the balance must be paid.”

Chapter 9

He took a step through the looking glass, and into a cozy brick lined kitchen with large butcher block countertops and an island overhung with cast iron pots and pans. Pictures adorned the walls. Windows into the past with five smiling children and two adoring parents. Even the old rosary’s were still lined up on pegs by the large open arch to the dining room.

He didn’t need to look to describe this place, 18 wonderful years, and oh so many memories. Tears trickled across his cheeks as that private cupboard in his mind opened at last. All the fears and longing he had pushed aside repeatedly in the last 5 years came bursting free.

He was home!

A small noise brought him around in fearful anticipation. Red hair and green eyes, pale irish skin with freckles joyfully dotting the wrinkles. A slender frame somewhat widened by the passing years yet refusing to be anything but comfortable in her own skin. A smile to shame la gioconda herself. The space between them disappeared in an instant as he swept 5’4” frame up in his arms.

“Oh momma, I am home!”

“..Sniffle… Ahem, so you are. Oh my boy, let me get a look at you” She pushed him back for a quick no nonsense appraisal. One he tried to copy, she had not aged since he saw her last, the drawstring peasant skirt and blouse could have existed in the pre fall times. Her hair still untouched by grey… or at least no grey was visible. Women were tricky like that. The smile was still there, untouched and untouchable. The rock of their family.

“... Did you let your golem dress you, son?” She inquired with a twinkle in her eye, “I am sure he was your barber, you look positively savage!”

His cheeks turned as red as her hair, “Dammit Mama” he said in exasperation. He was 26, she should not be able to turn him into a blushing child with a few words.

“You watch your mouth in my kitchen Timothy John Mason.”

He gave it up “...haaa, yes Mama.”

A pair of arms fit for a bear encompassed them both and their feet left the floor.

“Da” he managed through a sudden loss of breath.

“Patty, Timothy, Ahum.. huh… something in my throat.” At 6’4 Papa Joe Mason dwarfed his wife and youngest son. A lifetime of hard work had left those bear paws scarred and browned, his face weathered and beaten, a not spoken of childhood had left his nose broken and slightly crooked. But it had not marred his eyes, they spoke of simple joy the rest of him was too reserved to show.

“Let me down, you oaf!” mama called in faux anger as Joe placed them both back on the floor, if slightly flatter than they had been.

Timothy took a step back and half turned away. A man had to give his parents space for some things. Children were not meant to know too much about their parents' relationship.

He carefully didn't notice his father bend his large, thick frame down to give his delicate wife a kiss not at all in keeping with the term ‘delicate’.

Looking away the dining room entered his field of view, and with it two more familiar individuals. Reginald, his father's son, 6’4” and built like a lineman, muscles on muscles with a face weathered and rough from days at sea and more than a few blows. Hands that were scarred from more than just work. Placid eyes and a prize fighter's exterior hid a razor sharp mind.

Standing beside him and only a bit shorter was Jenney, a female version of his brother and father in all the unfortunate ways that could go. When people were being polite they called it a healthy physique. When they were not polite about it Regi removed their teeth. A fact that distressed Jenney to no end. His sister was a softie. She found all violence abhorrent, unwilling to harm even the mice that infested her gardens and every neighborhood moggie knew where they could find a free meal. That did not stop her from having a tongue sharper than a razor blade though.

He moved with more decorum towards his siblings than he had his mother, tears still graced his cheeks and a smile threatened to split his head in two.

“...Sir Reginald von Bartelsby. So good of you to meet with us on this fine evening!” he drawled in the old familiar way then followed it up with a Stalone impression “JENNEY!”.

An eyebrow the size of a caterpillar arched up on two different faces, “I imagine there is a toilet in there still, think we should use it sis?” he gestured at the downstairs bathroom’s door Despite his threat he took two quick strides forward and Timothy went flying once again.

A standing danger in a family where everyone but Mama was bigger than him!

“Get in here Jenney,” Regi, ever the bossy elder brother called, reaching out one massive paw to sweep his sister into the crushing embrace.

For a couple moments he let go of his worries, his dreams and his fears, to simply be for a while, relaxed as he had not been in years, five of them probably.

Alas all moments must end eventually, they separated to find a seat and simply talk. Polite nothings about growing up and who did what to who. Pointless babble that healed the mind and soul.

Their moment over, his parents joined them at the table, a sad glance cast at the empty chairs so quick it was felt rather than seen.

Papa Joe at last cleared his throat, halting the inane nostalgic banter. “It seems we need to discuss the elephant in the room”. His gravelly voice came through as regretful but firm. “How will we prepare to survive over the next two years?”

Timothy cleared his throat as well, “ahum. I am allowed to say that I chose to blaze a trail. I have found some ways to create and defend a home for us. Even tested them with fake monsters. They work. I have irons in the fire that might feed us. Healing isn’t working so well yet. Not giving up yet but it's a worry.”

Regi’s caterpillar arched up his forehead again “You in a fight little brother? I am sorry, that must have been rough on you.” The words could have been cruel barbs, but delivered with a deep understanding of Tim’s character and love, they were yet another balm for his lonely soul.

“It wasn’t, and isn’t, pleasant” His voice shook a bit despite his best efforts, “But I felt it necessary.” He softened his last sentence for Jenney’s benefit. Fighting was necessary for all, but that ship had sailed long since with his pacifistic sister. No point rehashing old arguments.

“Reginald?” Joe prodded his eldest.

“Regi, please Da, I am charting a path myself, don’t have the hearth and home covered like little Timmy does, but I can fight, and help others to do so as well.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully “ ... hmmm… don’t think it's safe to say more than that.”

“My turn then,” Jenney said with a sad smile at her two brothers, but there was steel in her voice when she spoke. “I won’t do harm. That much hasn’t and won't change. What I can do is provide food in large quantities and some effective medical support as well. I will help feed and heal the masses so that we can save all comers. That is Trailblazing too!” Her straight back and set eyes declared that she had set her lines and was prepared for war. She would not budge come hell or high water.

Regi’s eyes lit with fire as he prepared himself to dive right in, cannons ablaze. “... now Jenney-”

“Enough of that,” Mama Patty calmly interrupted “You haven't convinced her in 20 odd years you aren’t going to be able to now. Leave it be.” She reached out across the table and put her dainty white hand in Joe’s battered paw. “Your father and I are too old and too stuck in our ways to dance to these new tunes. But we both picked up the wand, since swords don’t appear to be in evidence, guardians you could call us. We will work beside you and keep you safe for as long as the good lord allows us to do so. Now enough of that, you boys go wash and set the table while Jenney helps me in the kitchen. We are going to have a family dinner.” Her calm eyes looked them over, her rock solid self assurance a flat dare to argue with her.

She may have raised stupid children, but the three sitting at the table were not among them. They responded in the only safe way.

“Yes mama.”

A golem can prepare any food you can ask for or imagine, but it can’t put love and nostalgia in it. Ma Patty was not going to let her family go without a home cooked meal to remember her by.

The kitchen grew warm and the smells filled the rooms. The rich scent of lamb, of garlic, leeks and savoy cabbage. Home is where the heart gives way to the stomach. Timothy had asked for many meals from Akil. He had never asked for this one. Some things are sacred. Only his Ma’s Irish Mutton stew, served on her table from her old pots, was worth having.

Irish mutton stew and Colcannon (Jenney was a vegetarian). Sacrifice would have to wait. To miss out on this meal would not only be a tragic waste, it would likely get his legs broken when his Ma tearfully asked why he wasn’t hungry.

Tomorrow would bring gruel and bland vegetables served with water. It would bring harsh training and lonely nights.

But that was for tomorrow.

Tonight, tonight he would feast with his family!

This too, he looked around at honestly smiling faces and brightly glinting eyes, is part of who I am.