Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [41]
She had told him about it, giving details he had always wondered about but had been too afraid to ask. "I might not be the easiest person to get along with, especially for a happy-go-lucky man like your father, but I've always tried to live up to my responsibilities and do the best I can. You boys are my treasures, and your father might have been a diamond in the rough...but it was very much in the rough. The night he left, we had a shouting match, one of our worst arguments ever. I can't even remember why it was important...I had bought him a new pair of shoes, or something."
One hand held the cigarette, but the other clenched into a fist. "I gave him one, maybe two, black eyes before he ran off. That's when he signed up for the colony ship and went off to Ramah."
"Do you ever wonder if he regretted leaving us, Mama?"
Rita had shrugged. "He regretted leaving his sons, maybe, because he was such a proud man. But I doubt he's ever thought about me again."
Since their discussion that night, Raymond had always wondered...
Now, he dished up a concoction of macaroni, soup-pax, and some minced-up bits of salami that looked as if it wouldn't last much longer in the preserving unit. He took a whiff, frowned, then added some powdery cheese and pronounced the dish finished. "Come and eat. If it gets cold, I'll have to serve it as leftovers tomorrow."
"I thought it was leftovers tonight," Carlos said.
"I can still send you to bed without supper."
The boys gathered around to grab plates of scooped casserole. Rita took her own small share, hiding a chuckle at his culinary audacity, and settled down to eat. She insisted it was one of the best meals she'd ever eaten.
Later, after Rita had crawled back to her chair to rest, and perhaps to sleep, Raymond put his little brothers to bed by himself. He made sure they took baths and brushed their teeth, ignoring their complaints and rambunctious misbehavior; he was immune to it by now. By the time he returned to the main room, his mother had indeed drifted off into a light slumber.
Smiling, he rearranged the bouquet of flowers he had snatched during King Frederick's celebration for the new sun at Oncier. After bringing the blooms home, he had found an empty food package and converted it into a makeshift vase. Rita insisted that flowers were a waste of money, but her glowing expression made Raymond want to find a way to obtain a bouquet at least once a week, no matter what the cost.
He thought about rousing his mother so that he could help her to bed, but decided to let her sleep where she was. He didn't want her to miss a moment of rest. Now, with their apartment quiet, Raymond quickly changed clothes, knowing he had only a few hours before he needed to be back to help his mother get off to work and his little brothers prepare for school.
He would run the streets, check out a few all-night factories, maybe a craft shop. He could usually find a few hours' work—performing odd jobs or dirty labor that no one else wanted to do—in return for cash or sometimes even fresh food. His late-night errands were all that allowed them the discretionary money for clothing or occasional treats.
While his mother slept, Raymond slipped out of the apartment, careful to lock up behind him. His head ached and his eyes were scratchy with weariness, but he would catch a nap later. They would get by—provided he didn't stop working. He took the elevator down eighteen floors to street level and ventured out into the city.
It was the last time he ever saw his family.
19 JESS TAMBLYN
A whiplash of flares licked out from the roiling ocean of