Damaged Goods (MxM - BOOK FIVE)

Chapter Eighteen

Tyler POV

"Mummy look at my picture!" The sensible little boy crowed while he sat at the table in their small kitchen. He had a green crayon in his hand and his third piece of paper blossoming with his latest work of art where it lay in front of him.

"Mummy's just a bit busy at the moment, Tyler," his mother responded in the same hassled tone he always recognised but never entirely understood.

"Please mummy, look, it's very excellent!" Excellent was his very favourite new word. He'd learned it at Sunday school today. The supervisor of the children's room, Michael, had used it to describe just about everything Tyler drew. At the same time, his mother had been talking with Father Graeme, the kind old preacher.

Tyler hadn't paid much attention to their conversation. Still, the friendly old preacher seemed to have been very kind to his mother, despite how unhappy she looked throughout their discussion, which had been lengthy.

"Yes, dear, it's beautiful" His mother responded without even looking. She'd been hefting a very large box into the middle of the kitchen and was just now in the process of ripping away the masking tape that kept its contents contained.

Tyler wasn't sure what was in it, but Father Graeme had given it to her. Michael had even carried it onto the bus for them where Tyler had been told by his mother not to touch it until they got home.

Of course, then they got home and he wasn't allowed to touch it anyway, but he understood. This box must have been a gift for his mum.

Michael had given Tyler a present too. A very excellent packet of coloured crayons and even some paper for his very own and he was allowed to draw as many pictures as he wanted.

Tyler had worked very hard on this latest drawing. He'd tried his very best to draw the church they'd been to, even remembering that the flowers at the entrance were red and yellow.

Tyler had drawn it to give to Michael next time they went there. Michael had told him it would be next Sunday, so Tyler had been very keen to get it drawn right away just in case 'Next Sunday' was tomorrow.

"Am I going to Sunday School again tomorrow?" He asked in the high pitch voice of his four-year-old self.

"Of course not, tomorrow is Monday," she responded in that same hassled tone, seeming to be even more agitated than usual by his interruption.

She'd been very unhappy this week, more often than not.

When she had picked him up from daycare, she looked sad and angry. Tyler overheard her explain to his teachers that Tyler would not be back because they 'couldn't afford it'.

Whatever that meant.

He didn't understand it at the time, but he missed daycare. He missed his friends. He missed the smiling teachers, but mostly he'd missed art and craft.

He'd told his mother as much, a couple of times during the first day he didn't go. Her mood deteriorated with every reminder until she got very angry with him and told him not to bring it up again.

But this was fantastic. Now Tyler had his very own new crayons.

He would still miss daycare very much, but at least now he could draw pictures, and the crayons were for him to keep.

"Canned food, stale bread and last weeks produce," she blustered, dropping a can back into the box where it chinked loudly against whatever else was in there. "I suppose I could freeze the bread. We'll be eating toast for a while." She continued, talking to herself.