Keep Me

Chapter Six

August 28th

10:30 a.m.

I awoke slowly, unwilling to rouse from my sweet slumber. My nose twitched, scenting the smell of bacon and eggs in the air. Remembering the night before and my surprise guest, I looked hurriedly to my side. Leon was still there, and he was fast asleep. He was lying on his stomach, but his head was turned towards me. His dark hair was mussed from sleep and there was a little drool puddle beneath him. I didn't mind it.

Carefully, I slipped from the bed, not wanting to awaken the sleeping boy. As soon as I slipped on the house shoes I left by the bed I swiftly went to my bedroom door and let myself out, quietly shutting the door behind myself.

This morning, my father was singing. It was something I could tell that he liked to do but didn't do often. Maybe he didn't sing because he didn't have the heart to, before. My mother seemed to suck any happiness he had from him, but maybe things were different now that she was gone.

As I got closer to the kitchen, I found that I was wrong. There was no happiness in my father's lyrics, neither was there any joy in the beautiful way his voice crooned and ebbed. This was a song of sorrow, much like the howl of a wolf that’d long lost his mate. A frown coated my face. I was over her being gone. Why couldn't he let it go?

My father stopped his singing when I stepped into the kitchen. I'd startled him and the sheepish smirk that had spread among his features told me that I had embarrassed him. I was sorry about that. “Morning Corrie-Bear," he greeted," my awful singing didn't wake you did it?"

“You don't sing awfully," I told him, wiping some of the sleep that had remained in my eyes.

“Yeah, well," he started, leaning against one of the counters and crossing his big, burly arms, “your mom never liked it." I looked at him but said nothing. I guess he never realized that she never liked anything that was more beautiful than her. 

I remembered that when I was five, my mother curled my hair real nice. When she took me to town, I got lots of compliments about how lovely I was. She smiled at all the people who paid me compliments, and stared down at me with adoring eyes. Yet when we were in the car and going home, she clenched her jaw and never looked at me. She said nothing to me while we were at home, at first, either. Instead, she let me play the whole day away. That night, when I'd forgotten the incident, she called me into the bathroom and chopped my hair off. When my dad came home from work, they fought.

That was the first fight I remembered them having.

“Anyways, I made breakfast," he continued, turning back to the sizzling bacon he'd left on the stove. “I’ll set you out a plate."

“Make sure you set out an extra one," I told him turning to walk back to my room.

“What do you mean?"

“Leon is coming to breakfast," I told my father, casually, over my shoulder. He laughed.

“Okay honey, I will." 

I knew he didn't believe me, it didn't matter. He'd have to believe me when I brought Leon out, he'd have to.

When I made it back to my room, Leon was still there and he was still asleep. As I had walked to my room I'd had the fear that he wouldn't be there. I smiled to myself, those were silly thoughts perhaps. " Leon," I called, walking to the bedside. I called his name and gave him a little shake.

His dark eyes flew open then, and with a blur of motion he knocked me down.  I landed on my bottom with an 'oof', but he quickly began to apologize. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, rushing to my side where he put his hands on either sides of my face." I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He stroked my cheeks and pushed my hair back, it was a strange gesture but I only giggled at him

“It’s okay," I told him as I looked up at him, laughing. “I guess it's my fault for scaring you." He stopped fretting over me then, and just gave me a blank look. I kept laughing and after a while, his corners pulled up in a smile and he released a small chuckle of his own.

“My dad made breakfast," I told him, standing myself back up. “You get to meet him." His smile fell away when I said that, his eyes becoming wide.

“He won’t like me," he whispered. I frowned at him, shaking my head slowly.

“That’s not true," I told him, “my father will like you. Trust me, he will. You just have to have the courage to go meet him." When he only blinked at me, I continued. “I watched a movie once, it was called The Wizard of Oz. The lion was afraid to meet the wizard, at first. But, when he summoned up all of his courage to meet the wiz, he ended up very happy."

“You...you like Lions, Corbin?"

“I suppose I do, but you understood what I was telling you right?" He nodded, and, with a smile, I took his hand. “Let’s go meet dad then," I told him. He gave me a nervous smile; I gave his hand a squeeze for reassurance.

My father's jaw dropped when we walked into the kitchen. He'd been setting the plates, humming instead this time, but he'd set out three. Just like I'd asked.

“Papa, this is Leon." My father sputtered for a little while and Leon took a step back, though he never dropped my hands. In fact, he was holding my hand very tightly and I could feel the moisture that seeped from his pores. He was nervous, and I frowned at my dad for not being more of a welcoming host.

Finally, my father was able to find his words. After swallowing, he gave Leon a kind smile. “So, this is the boy that you..met in the woods." Leon nodded at my father, I only blinked. My father rubbed the back of his neck. His smile was still planted on  his face, but his eyes had narrowed in his confusion. “Corrie-bear."

“Hmm?" I answered him as I pulled Leon along with me to the wonderful food that had been laid out for us. I chose a seat at the, rounded, table where I could see the best view of the window and Leon chose the seat to my right. My father took the last available seat and stared at me.

“Why is he wearing your pajamas?"

“He had no other clothes, papa." When my father's confused stare only deepened, I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Did you want him to come to breakfast with no clothes?" It didn't take my father long to think about that one at all.

"Well, it's nice to meet you then, Leon." My father began to eat then, seeming to be satisfied with the little information I'd provided him. Breakfast went over greatly, that morning. My father asked Leon a few question, which the boy seemed hesitant to answer at first but he managed to warm up as time stretched on.

Soon, my father was saying things that made all of us laugh, and the boy with the slash on his cheek was able to smile genuinely. Oh, how I loved his brilliant smile even then.

“So, you say you don't have a Pa of your own," my father asked, forking bacon into his mouth.

“No, sir, I don't," Leon responded, chewing on pancake.

“Huh. Have you any home to go to?"

“Not really, sir." I watched the both of them eat and conversate, wondering what my father was leading at.

“Well, you're welcomed here anytime. There's a spare bedroom, and if you don't have any clothes, I could pick you up some on my way into town." Leon looked from me to my dad, his eyes wide in shock. I wasn't so surprised, my papa was generous and we were always helping out people in town who needed to get back on their feet. Mama always thought it was a waste of time, but it always made me feel warm when we helped someone else.

“Really? I-I could come back? Anytime? Back here to you and Corbin?" His amazement was so innocent and so dazzling, that I had to smile down at my plate out of fear that one more glance at him while he grinned like that would make me pop.

“Yup," my father said, sharing his full-watt smile with the dark boy who'd joined us for a meal that day.

“T-thank you so much," Leon said, his own head dipping. His hand moved across his cheeks swiftly, and to this day I still wonder if he'd been wiping away tears.

“N-No problem, boy," my dad said as he stared at the boy with curiosity himself.