Day 5/366

"What in the world?"  Leslie felt trapped in granite, unable to move or close her eyes to what she was witnessing.  "How dare you--"

"Mom!  It's not what you think!"  Her fifteen year old son scrambled to gather his belongings, dropping his tennis shoe on his foot and wincing, then reaching down and grabbing it again.

"I know what I'm seeing, and I don't want to see what I'm seeing!"  Her face flushed and her vision blurred around the edges.  Her hand grabbed at the doorknob and pulled the door shut.  "I--I don't even know what to say to you right now, Kyle!"

His muffled voice came through the closed door, and she winced at the panic she heard.  A small part of her heart ached for him, but the majority of her being was enraged at the disrespect.  If Peter was home--

--no, she wasn't going to go there.  She was more than capable of raising their three children while her husband made his contribution to the defense of their country.  This was his final tour before his current enlistment was up, and Leslie had promised herself that he would re-up or retire based on his desires, and not hers.

She refused to be like her own mom, always hearing about how they would have been better off if she'd only agreed to one more four year enlistment, to only one more try for promotion...if she had supported and not blocked Dad's opportunities because she 'just couldn't do it any longer.'

That was not going to be her.  Her back steel rod straight, Leslie headed down the stairs to the living room, determined to calm down and rationally discuss this transgression with her oldest son.  A level head does not speak unwisely--again her father's voice echoed in her head.

The back door slammed, rattling the windows and her nerves.  "Mom!  Hey, Mom?"  The enthusiasm of her ten year old daughter was normally infectious, but today, in this moment, was grating.  "Oh, there you are!"

"Jessica, how many times have I told you not to slam the doors?  We don't own this house, and we can't afford to replace any broken windows or damaged locks!"  Leslie cringed at the shrill tone in her voice, and felt horrible as she watched the light drain out of her baby girl's hazel eyes.

"Sorry," Jessica mumbled, standing motionless in the doorway.  "I just was....oh, nevermind."  A quick pivot and she was headed up to her room, ignoring her mother's inquiry. 

"Hey, Brat,"  was quickly followed by "Whatever, Genius," the usual meet and greet for her oldest and youngest.  "What's up with Mom?" came drifting down the stairs as the two paced down the hall to her room.

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So, what did Leslie see?  And what did Jessica want to tell her mom?  Can Leslie hold it together, or is she at her wit's end?

I have no idea.  Let's find out together tomorrow, shall we?

Creatively Yours,

Deena

All words property of Deena Peterson and not to be used without permission.