Jaded

Friends

Clare sat intensely watching the cartoon, the black and white cat on the screen looked puzzled, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Suddenly, a yellow bird whacked him over the head with a book labeled 'Facts' leaving stars almost orbiting around his head. An elderly lady then entered the room and began to yell at the cat. Clare giggled to herself, she loved this sort of programme, it was always very funny. William smiled fondly to himself, this wasn't all that bad. Clare was a lovely little kid, she hadn't been any trouble and she was ever so polite. If only his colleagues were this well behaved.

He'd asked her if she'd had a meal yet, she'd said that she had, so he put some of his old favourite shows. He was delighted that she was enjoying them as much as he had done as a boy. At around 7:00pm, little Clare contently drifted off into a deep sleep while leaning on William. He, for once in his life, didn't groan grunt or moan to himself, he smiled. He smiled in all earnest.

Though he would have never admitted it anyone, he genuinely did like children. They held an innocence that many adults had lost, he thought that children spoke truths that people of his age would never even fathom to think of. He wished that had children of his own, however 'The One' never came, so he was lonely. His last relationship had ended years ago, it wasn't very good and he didn't want to even recall it.

It was at 10:15pm that the rest of the Clarke family returned, Clare was still sound asleep. So in an attempt not to stir her, William and Mr Clarke had to carefully take her across the road in their arms. It was a quiet suburb, so it wasn't dangerous. William had thought it was a bit odd that they didn't wake her,however when he saw the state that Ann was in he understood their reasons. She had a cast on her leg and crutches by her side, they obviously didn't want Clare to be awoken to the sight of her mother. They'd need to explain things to her, to tell her that her mother would be alright.

At that time he couldn't really talk to her, he was here. He would stop her from saying what needed to be said. He would prevent the truth. William planned to talk to her on the next day he could.

It was early in the morning, William awoke and continued if it were any other day, but he had a plan. It was twenty minutes earlier than the day previous when William left for work. He stared over to the other side of the road and surprised to see the person he wished to speak to sitting peacefully in a chair on the decking watching the dawn break. He wasn't there. That was all that mattered.

He strode over to her, as if he were at work and slowly began to talk.

"Hello Ann. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about everything, I was too harsh on everybody yesterday." He admitted, he was embarrassed at his own actions.

"No, it is absolutely fine." She began weakly, she sighed and looked down before continuing,"We didn't respect your boundaries, not at all. We just appeared out of no where and expect everything to be alright. Ha, we thought you'd be happy."

He paused momentarily,"No, I was in the wrong, I should've said something. I really did appreciate your welcome. I hate to ask you this, why do you blame yourself?"

"Oh, it's purely habit." She dismissed too quickly, William raised his eyebrow.

"Do you mind if I ask, what happened to your leg?" He questioned.

"He didn't say, why didn't he say?" She muttered anxiously to herself.

"He said you fell down the stairs."

"That's not what happened, that's not what happened." She repeated, almost like a mantra.

"What did happen?"

"I told him I wanted to leave him, he'd said he didn't love me anyway. It escalated from there, I ended up falling backwards down the stairs. Why am I even telling you this?" She'd began shaking, stuttering more over each progressive word.

"Because you know I can and will help you when you are too vulnerable to help yourself. Is Clare up yet?"

"Yes, she's got school today."

"Is she ready to go?"

"Yes, can you drop her off?"

"Of course I can. Friends?"He asked expectantly.

"Friends."