Chapter 6

In the household during a thunder storm the power went out. It was a sudden twitch which eclipsed the house in an excited darkness. Everything was dead- the tuner, the CD player, the refrigerator, and the fan which kept his room bearably cool. One of the hottest summers on record, and the thunder battered the sky like fighting rams. He didn’t move. He only sucked up the silence, a lifeless world without the guitar bellowing through the speakers. He wasn’t about to leave his room either. The darkness and the silence actually brought a quaint relief, as though his listening habits had recently become a twisted obligation, he knew not why. In the darkness he lay there, hearing footsteps beyond his door, and then a quick knock. His shadowy mother appeared, a figure of blackness against the dark. The lightening struck suddenly, and he caught a glimpse of her in a red satin robe. She returned to blackness, as though a void stood in lieu of her body.

“Are you alright?” asked Noble.

“Fine, but I’m expecting company soon, and now there’s a blackout. Do you have any matches? I’ve got a candle or two.”

Noble was reluctant to venture beyond the sanctum of his room. He had grown comfortable in it, almost like a clubhouse away from his parents at the other end of the hall. He should have been doing his homework, and yes, he did repeat his tenth grade year. He was now towards the end of his twelfth, on his way towards a two-year college in the Southern stretches of Jersey. His mother had saved up for his education and originally wanted him to pursue medicine. But the money was tight, and together they settled on a career in business.

Noble loved the image of dressing in banker’s gray with a leather attaché, doing deals over cocktails. Under the Reagan presidency it seemed that business or anything money-related would ensure prosperity, and in keeping with the herd of young people flocking towards the financial sector, business seemed like the best route. And Noble was determined to work hard for his mother. One day he would repay her every penny, and they would live together on the North side of town. It was unclear whether or not his father was included in this plan. Simply put, the man was never around, and when he did happen to stumble in after his stint at the North side bar, he either collapsed in the bedroom or fought with his wife. Noble never included his father in his plans, but some moral impulse, or perhaps it was the image of a strong family, placed him in the grand scheme.

Noble had little power to change the ways of his father, and if he had the chance he would avoid it for his own safety and welfare. He had always been afraid of the staunch McCoy McCloud, as though he were a living legend in the household, breezing in once in a while with a stern look, and then out again, leaving terrible traces of frustration. His mother remained his only link to McCoy, not a liaison but as an indirect form of communication- the noises beyond his room transmitting a rage and misanthropic disgust. Noble didn’t know how his father felt about his career path. He didn’t know how his father felt about anything, and his rare appearances in the doorway after a long day only meant that Noble should retreat, shut the door, and listen to music. This became common practice.

In the darkness, the brief flashes of light exposed her thin satin robe, and he followed her into the kitchen, the rain and wind pelting the home which could have easily blown over if the fierce weather willed it.

They set up candles in the living room which was merely a continuation of the long hallway between the two bedrooms. It was clear to Noble that his mother had something serious on her mind.

“A girlfriend at your age is essential,” said his mother by the flickering light, her smile hinting a certain girl-like embarrassment.

“Aww, Mom,” said Noble.

“Oh don’t ‘aww Mom’ me,” as she touched his knee. “A boy your age needs a girlfriend. You’re a strong, handsome kid, on his way up the ladder of success. A girl should be with you.”

“Do we have to talk about this?” he complained.

“It’s important. Soon you’ll be on your own.”

“Don’t act like you’ll never see me again.”

“Noble, it’s time for a woman. I can never be there like a good girlfriend can. It’s a Saturday night, and all you’re doing is isolating in your room. Shouldn’t you be out with Shylock somewhere, chasing all these girls?”

“I don’t hang around Shylock on Saturdays.”

“Well, he hangs around you.”

“He hangs around his football buddies.”

“Noble, I want you out of this house on Saturday nights. I know a thunderstorm never stopped me.”

He always had a vague sense of what his mother did for a living- how she earned all of that dough for his education. But remember, Noble never assumed things. In order for him to believe what other maladjusted classmates mentioned in passing, he would have to see it in the raw, the actual deed, the hard evidence. He had never seen his mother doing the things his classmates spoke of. As a matter of fact, one classmate said that he had been seeing his mother on a regular basis, that he wasn’t the only one, that there were many others in the school who were active clients. He never believed them, and yet the hearsay glared at him almost every night. He was naïve by choice, the incorrect thought squelched by the correct image of the upstanding disciplinarian. But in the candlelight he asked her:

“Mom? How did you get the money for college?”

Her girlish smile turned solemn.

“I worked for it,” she said.

“And what’s the work that you do? I know we’ve never discussed it, but people at school tell me terrible things, and I want to know straight from you. What is it that you do?”

“You have no right to question me,” she said.

“If you’d just be honest about how you got the money. I know Dad doesn’t help out. All the money’s coming from you. I just want to know how that money was earned.”

“Noble McCloud, you don’t have the right to question you’re mother. Do you actually believe what all those boys say?”

“Mom, I think you’re...”

“No, I’m not. I’m not overreacting at all. You believe those damn kids more than you’re own mother...”

“But you haven’t answered me yet.”

“And I won’t answer you. To think that my only son believes the words of those idiots, and doesn’t trust his own mother, the same mother who made you what you are today- a business man ready for success, a young college man just like the rest of those rich bastards...”

“Please Mom, don’t be angry with me.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? To be questioned by your only son?”

“I need to know,” said Noble quietly, “I need to know who you are, and whatever you tell me, I’ll believe you, and I will never ask you again, I swear it.”

She stood, and her red satin robe fell loose about her body, exposing a thin line from neck to midriff.

“If you must know,” she said, “I’m a therapist.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, I’m a therapist, and I see my clients either here or at their homes.”

“See, mom, that wasn’t so difficult,” he said in relief.

“Let me put it to you straight. You are never, never allowed to question me again. No son of mine has the right to question his own mother. You will never again question me the way you just did.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, mom.”

“Sorry isn’t enough. Never again are you to ever ask me. Is that clear, Noble McCloud?”

“Yes, mother.”

He wished for his room, but the house was still dark from the blackout. He had no haven to relieve himself of his mother. An awkward silence followed, and he hoped his mother was still on his side. He yearned for normalcy, the candlelight exposing her moist eyes. The correct part of him believed her, not the underhanded ramblings of malicious kids. His mother, he thought, had told him the truth, and he would never ask again.