Noble McCloud - A Novel
Chapter 8

Copyright© 2018 by Harvey Havel

Noble spent most of the afternoon packing for college. He even cleaned his room as his mother had ordered. He didn’t have many clothes. He had a cycle of wearing the same jeans for a week at a time, and his shirts once every three days. He stuffed what he could in a large green duffle bag his mother had bought from an Army-Navy store. She had gone off somewhere to run her usual errands and to meet with her clients. Noble was alone in the household in a joyous mood. Even the slightest hint of leaving Waspachick excited him in the past, and finally he was leaving for a period of two years for an associate’s degree in business. Wonderful. But the joy could not be complete without his mother joining him. He had prepared a proposal for his mother, a plan which would involve leaving old McCoy McCloud and living with him near the small campus.

While surveying his room for anything he may have forgotten, he ruminated on the proposal. He must convince her, and he had a reasonable certainty that the plan would work. For the rest of the afternoon he remained in his room and cranked up a familiar tune. He had never been so excited, an excitement bordering on glee. He and his mother would find a small apartment, and the two would live without, without- even here Noble couldn’t put his finger on the problem, only these terrible noises from the other room, the rumors around town which somehow got back to him, the entire ordeal which required an immediate and unfettered flight from Waspachick. It would work. It had to work. He hated the idea of leaving her behind, leaving her to the terrible noises. For the first time he would be helping her. He would refund the comfort and the shelter she had given him. This was the general idea, and the main thrust of his proposal involved the concept of security, that she would no longer have to endure the absence and the drunken behaviors of her husband. If only he could put it in such a way that would convince her.

She had always been obdurate, the kind of stubbornness which only hurt herself and the emotions of those close to her. Noble had to insist with the same stubbornness. He must use her own logic to make his proposal salient. He paced his room and inspired himself. He would approach her with an indefatigable energy, so incredibly stubborn that she would have to concede.

He heard the door slam. He would not shy away as before. He would stand up, and if that failed, he would try again until her own determined will was shattered and instantly mended by Noble’s glorious vision. Yes, the vision was glorious, good, and true. Never in his life had he such a positive vision, a vision pure, overflowing with optimism. To fly from Waspachick, to row a battered boat on a deep blue ocean never to return. How glorious this vision, both of them on the campus. She would cook for him and find another line of work in the town, while he attended night classes. It was all so incredibly perfect as visions ought to be.

He knocked on her door, not once, but several times. She didn’t answer. He knocked harder. She opened the door, and yet another welt bulged under her eye.

“What happened?” he sighed.

“That’s not your concern,” she said.

“Damn it, what happened?” his glorious vision replaced by a boiling anger.

“Don’t worry about it, Noble. Just pack your bags. You’re off to college tomorrow,” her tone self-sacrificing.

“Don’t worry about it? Are you nuts?”

“Don’t raise your voice, young man.”

“I’m not raising my voice, okay, I’m not raising my voice. Listen, I don’t care where you got that swelling, but we have to talk. It’s very important.”

“Yes, my dear, successful son is going to college,” as she moved in closer for a kiss.

“Don’t touch me,” he said. “Get into the living room and sit down. I have something very important to say.”

He was followed into the living room. She sat in her bathrobe on the sofa.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked.

“Listen, I’m really tired, okay. I just want some sleep.”

“Okay,” and then he began the speech which would convince her: “Mom, I’m leaving for college tomorrow, and it’s all because of you,” how marvelously he pontificated, “and in return I will take the business world by storm. I’ll be the next Andrew Carnegie, you’ll see, and one day we’ll have fried chicken every night, but there is one thing that we must do.”

“I know you will. You were made for success,” she said.

“Mom, this is not the life for you. It’s not the life for us. I hear what goes on. I stay up all night hearing those terrible fights you and Dad have, and it hurts me to see you like this. You can’t stand it either, I know.”

“Your Dad and I have fights like any other married couple.”

“But it’s not good for us. You’ve worked so hard, and I want to repay you, if you’ll only let me. I have a plan for all this, and this is not something for you to accept or reject. It’s something that we both must do in order to lead decent lives, happy lives away from Dad. I’ve already arranged all this. I have rented an apartment close to the campus...”

 
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