énouement ° stenbrough

< c h a p t e r 2 >

(A/N:) Alriiiiiiight here's chapter two- tis 2130 words long :)

h e c k

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26 years or so later...

Stan was roused by the obnoxious sound of beeping and groggily blinked back to reality. With a groan of dissatisfaction and dejection, he pushed himself up in his cramped seat, looking out the window at the dark, surging clouds that formed a melancholy quilt over the world below. It was almost everynight that he thought back to that summer after Freshman year. The pain, the fear... the heartache and denial- it all still seemed so surreal and vivid in his dreams. He realized that his fist was clenched on the thin arm rest beside him and he unfurled it, looking down at the familiar white mark that scarred his palm. It had seen so much- the edge of a blade, the spilt blood of oath, the rough scratch of tear soaked flannel and the caress of velvet hair. He was younger then.

As the plane began its descent, the pressure in the cabin pushed in on his ear drums and Stan squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his head back against the seat. He willed the flight to be over as soon as possible, in fact, he despised flying. It was cramped, musty and frankly, catastrophic scenarios always plagued him. The only thing that really got him through it was sleep and maybe some gin and tonic, although he didn't usually like to resort to alcohol. With a harsh rattling start and the low wailing of tires against pavement, the plane had touched ground and Stan let out an exasperated sigh, glad that he was about to exit this flying tin can.

Once the plane came to a halt and the overhead lights came on, Stan slid out from his seat, grateful to be able to stretch out his stiff limbs which had been laying dormant for his entire two hour flight from Georgia to Maine. As he walked through the airport, he searched for his mother who would be waiting for him near the entrance, not surprised when she told him his father couldn't make it.

Something about Stan's father never really clicked with Stan. Was it the infinite afternoons sheltered by the painfully familiar hometown Synagogue, or the nonstop practice of hebrew sing alongs after hours that got under his skin- he had no idea. Either way, he was never close with his father the way he was with his mother, and this hadn't changed one bit since he left home. He didn't wear his Kippah anymore, but brought it knowing that all hell would break lose if his father were to hear about it. Not to mention that it would break his mother's heart. To tell the truth- the only reason he kept up with judaism wasn't because he loved it, infact he didn't have any particular religion at all anymore it seemed, but because he didn't want to feel like he was letting anyone down. Especially his mother. So as he saw his mother practically bouncing on the tips of her toes in anxiousness, he quickly slipped his Kippah on, heaved a smile, and carefully walked up to greet her. "Hi, mom," he greeted softly, the echo of sleep rasping in his throat.

"My baby boy!" His mom said rather loudly, pulling him into a strong hug. Stan felt his face heat up with embarrassment as the eyes of pesserby burned holes into him. He did, however, hug her back firmly before they simultaneously retracted. It felt good to see her in person again and feel her motherly embrace, which was something he hadn't been aware that he missed until that moment. "Let's get you back home and get you something to eat. I mean, you look so starved, dear, honestly," she poked and prodded at his lean figure. "Don't think you're fooling me with those fasting excuses," Stan's mother said scoldingly before grabbing his suitcase and leading him out to the carpark of the airport.

There in the front row, parked underneath a light post, was a blue station wagon, sided with wood paneling. "You still have this old hunk of junk?" Stan asked with a chuckle of disbelief.

His mother huffed at her son, "It's not a 'hunk of junk', Stanley." She opened the trunk and put the suitcase in, "It happens to work better than any other car I've ever owned," she stated defiantly, walking around the side and getting into the driver's seat, Stan ducking his head to get into the passenger side.