literature

FACE family, Distraught, 2

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Literature Text

Alfred looked up at Francis as he walked in and placed Matthew in his highchair. He swallowed hard, looking at the pile of pancakes in front of him, he didn’t really want to eat it, he wasn’t really hungry, but he knew that if he didn’t eat then Francis would give him that look, the one that said ‘I know you’re not happy, but I’m doing the best I can.’

Francis smiled softly at him, cutting up Matthew’s pancakes and chuckling as the small boy began to eat them, smearing maple syrup over his face and his plate. “Alfred, are you going to eat?” Francis asked softly.

Alfred nodded, “Yes Francis, I am,” he looked down at the mound of food, wishing that the sight of it didn’t sicken him, pancakes were one of his favourite breakfast foods. “…Why is daddy’s memory being weird?” he asked quietly, knowing that the question would make Francis uncomfortable but being unable to stop himself asking.

“Uh,” Francis sighed, sounding a little distracted as he focussed on Matthew’s food, “It just is sometimes, he’s very ill, Alfred. He can’t help it.”

Alfred chewed his lip, shifting n his chair, “I heard shouting last night, you were telling daddy he was ill because he drinks so much.”

Francis nodded, “Drinking is how he deals with his illness, but it’s not like medicine so it doesn’t work.”

“Will he die like mommy did?” he asked almost absently, finally picking up his fork and eating his food.

Francis frowned and shook his head, “No of course not Alfred, don’t be silly,” he glanced away, “I hope not at least.” He cleared his throat, “You’re papa’s going to be with you for as long as he can, he does want to help you, he just gets mixed up sometimes.”

Alfred huffed slightly, “Sometimes I wish he would, so that he can be with mommy, and he won’t be confused anymore.”

Francis let out a half-gasp, “Alfred, how can you say that? You should never wish death on anyone, not for any reason and especially not your own father.” He huffed and shook his head, “Just.. be quiet and eat your food.”

Alfred looked up at him sadly, eating the last of his pancakes, “… I think it would be good for him to see her.”

Francis smiled softly, knowing the child meant well, “He’s not ready yet, it’ll just make him more confused, you know how angry he gets when he’s confused… We could go and see her? I think that’d be nice. You can tell her that I taught you to bake cookies, we could take her some of the left over ones, I think she’d enjoy them.”

Alfred smiled widely and nodded, “Yeah!” he squeaked happily, “I think she’d like them.”

Francis nodded, biting his lip at the boy’s enthusiasm, “Genial, go and get dressed and we’ll go out.”

Francis pulled Matthew from his high seat, “You hear that young man? We’re going to see your mother today.”

Matthew grinned happily, “Bon, I like talking to mummy.”

Francis nodded and wiped the boy’s face, placing him on the floor. “Go and find Alfred and he’ll help you dress, I have to go and talk with your papa, ok.”

He watched the boy run off, turning towards Arthur’s room again, the smile dropping from his face as he knocked on the door, “Arthur, I’m coming in, I’m going to help you change. You don’t have to leave the bed but you can’t stay in your pyjamas all day.”

He pushed the door open before hearing an answer, seeing Arthur curled up on he bed and shuddering slightly, “…Oh, Arty,” he frowned as he came to him, running his hand up his side, “You know you really don’t make this easy.” He exhaled slowly and pulled back the covers, “Come on, get up. Your children and I are going to the cemetery so I don’t have time to bath you today, but I am going to dress you, sit up.”

Arthur groaned slightly as he sat up, “F-Francis? I though I told you to leave.”

Francis coughed slightly, “I will do after you’re dressed, and after I brush your teeth… I’m taking the boys out for an hour or so ok? Would you like me to put a film on for you? The time machine? You always used to like that film.”

Arthur shook his head, “No, no I don’t want to. Can’t I go back to sleep, I don’t want to…” he groaned slightly, “I told you to leave,” he said loudly, trying to shake Francis away from him.

Francis stood and walked to the wardrobe, opening it and sighing, “How about blue today?” he smiled as he pulled out a light blue shirt, showing it to Arthur, “You always liked blue.”

Arthur whined, looking at the clothing as if it were the most terrifying thing he’d seen, “No I… No! Francis put it back, stop touching my things,” he insisted, moving to get out of the bed, every twitch of his muscles making him feel sick.

Francis frowned at him, taking the opportunity to pull the shirt over his head, covering the vest the man had slept in. He smiled softly, “There, you look as smart as you did your last day of college. Remember the party we went to, you threw up all over that poor man’s car.”

Arthur flopped back onto the bed, his head spinning as he stared down at his shirt, “…I remember,” he drawled out, frowning up at Francis, “You were meant to drive me home but you left with some slut.. A-Amy had to drive me home.”

“… She hated when you called her Amy, she hated how you pronounced it.”

Arthur nodded, “She… She likes Amelia, because it sounds like a fairy-tale.” He lifted the shirt to his face, pressing his palms into his eyes. “Tell me she’s not dead, please, this is just a bad dream and one day I’ll wake up.”

Francis swallowed hard, shaking his head, “I can’t Arthur, I keep having to tell you. She is gone, I’m sorry, but it’s true, she’s not coming back.”

Arthur growled, taking the lamp from his bedside table and throwing it at his friend, “Then get out!” he screeched, forcing himself to his feet again, “Get the fuck out I never want to see you again!”

Guys come on this is friking sad can I get some comments?
© 2014 - 2024 MystroTheDefender
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ThatOneMooseInCanada's avatar
Poor Arthur! And poor kids and Francis, too, but still! Also, I don't know why no one has commented or favorited this, I think it's great.