Even Angels Fall
"Jeffery! Jeffery!" Emily Jefferson called out her front window. She pulled her head back in and began to wring her hands again. She paced back and forth in front of her husband.
Robert rolled his eyes and put the paper in his lap.
Emily jumped at the loud crinkling sound.
"Emily deahest, you can't be worrying yourself sick ova that boy. He'll come home when he's good an' ready." He shook the paper out and lifted it again, sinking lower into his plush scarlet chair.
Emily perched herself on the edge of the sofa nervously, ready to jump as soon as the front door made so much as a squeak.
-----
"Come on Jeff!" Lucy Peters called to her best friend as she raced up the large hill. She tucked her skirt between her legs and lay down on the soft grass, watching as the first white stars began to appear overhead.
"I dunno why youse like this so much Luce!" Jeffery Jefferson {he had always hated his name} grumbled as he trekked up the hill after her. He plopped down next to her and folded his arms.
She sat up and tweaked his thin nose. "Come on! It's really fun okay? Trust me." She lay back down and glanced at him over her shoulder.
"It ain't, I mean it's not right Lucy. You're a girl!"
She shrugged awkwardly. "And youse is a boy, so?"
Jeff finally gave up and laid down, the soles of his feet resting against hers.
"Ready?!"
"Yeah, yeah. Les just get this ova with."
"Set?!"
"I'se doin' this under protest!"
"Go!" The two ten year olds took off down the emerald hill, rolling as fast as the laws of nature would allow them to.
-----
Emily's heart leapt into her throat as the front door opened then slammed closed again.
"Whoops...sorry!" A small voice called out.
She ran to her son, smothering him with "Where were you"'s, and "I was so worried"'s. "Ya absolutely filthy!" She cried out, suddenly afraid to touch him. She dragged him through the living room and into the nearest bathroom.
"Heya son."
"Heya pop..." The two called out to each other as hysterical mother and child passed by.
Once in the safety of the bathroom, Emily began turning the spigots in the tub. "Jeffery, where were you? You had your father an' me worried sick!" She shook her head and tested the water with a slim hand.
Jeff rolled his eyes and leaned against the porcelain countertop.
Emily shook the excess water off, then dried her hand on the skirt of her blue dress. "Oh dear...well, it's not like it'll stain." She mumbled to herself after she noticed what she had done. She turned to her son and folded her slender arms. "Yes, well, you can take a bath right? 'Course ya can...you're almost eleven years old now." She nodded, a weak smile flickering across her small mouth. She clapped her hands together and practically lunged for the doorknob, eager to get out into the not-so-humid hallway. "Get on with it then, dinner'll be waitin' for ya." She grasped the doorknob then thought better of it. Turning, she pecked her son on the head and was out the door in the batting of an eye.
-----
Jeff toweled himself off slowly, dreading the dinner that awaited him. "Pro'bly snails again...or that fishy stuff." He grumbled to himself as he gazed at his hazy reflection. His mother's voice went 'round in his head.
/"My little boy's growin' up so fast!" /
"What if I don't wanna grow up?" He shouted as his image. It echoed him, mockingly silent. He stretched his arm across the counter and rubbed out the condensation that had gathered on the mirror. Jeff sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched the water drain, wishing he could go with it.
-----
Emily paced back in forth before the dining room table, rearranging this, or replacing that. Her son begrudgingly descended the stairs, taking one step at a time, as slowly as he could. Her brow furrowed slightly. "Jeffery, why aren't you wearin' your dinner clothes?"
Jeff stopped five steps from the bottom and looked up, a small scowl on his lips. "Aww, Ma it's jus' you an' me, do I' really hafta?"
Emily frowned and pulled out a chair for her son. "Jeffery, you shouldn't tawk that way. We worked hard to rid ourselves of that horrible accent..." She bit her lip, thinking to herself what a hypocritical statement that had been. She glanced back up at her son and flashed him a small smile. "Nevermind, wear what you like, jes'...come an' eat something, okay?" She pulled out another chair and gracefully planted herself in it. She patted the chair next to her.
Jeff rolled his eyes and continued down the stairs, shuffling the last few feet. He threw himself in his chair dramatically and picked up his fork, tapping it against the edge of the tablecloth covered table. His mother shot him a disapproving look, and he stopped immediately, letting the utensil clatter noisily on the tabletop.
Emily sighed lightly. "Mary...Mary dahlink? Is Jeffrey's dinner ready?"
A tall wiry woman with coal black hair poked her tired head through the doorway. "Yes mum, it'll be out in a jiff." She curtsied swiftly and rushed back into the kitchen.
-----
Jeff folded one arm across his stomach and held his cup in the other. He swirled it round, listening contentedly to the chinking of the ice as it met the glass surface. His mother had long since gone to bed, tired of waiting on him to finish. The only other person awake was Mary, who was busy scouring pots and grumbling to herself in the kitchen. He put down his almost empty glass on the table with a soft thud and crossed his arms in front of him, roaming over his teeth with his tongue.
Mary sighed and looked up after hearing the thud of Jeff's glass on the table. Jus' like 'is fathah, that one. "Will you be requirin' inythin' more sih?" She paused her scrubbing and waited for his reply.
Jeffery shook his head, then remembered that she couldn't see him. "Oh...well den, no Mary." He pushed his chair back and glanced at his plate. "I'm jus' gonna go ta bed now...ya want me ta get this?" He picked up the edge of his plate and let it drop again; signaling to her what her was talking about.
Mary paused her scrubbing again. "No sih, I'll get it."
"Okay." He said, more to himself than Mary. He heard her resume her cleaning and took off to his room.
-----
Jeff awoke the next morning feeling duller than ever. It was Saturday. Great, He thought in disgust. Saturday meant no school, and no church to busy himself with, and worst of all no Lucy. Every weekend Lucy Peters visited her dad in Queens. He was a handy man of sorts, and had sent his daughter to live with his sister on Staten Island. He could only care for her on the weekends, and hardly even then. Jeff ran a hand through his cropped brown hair and fell back onto his pillows, throwing three of them onto the floor. Emily Jefferson had a 'thing' for pillows. His father used to joke that she was a goose in past life, and was trying to get all of her feathers back. He smiled at the thought, his mother was in fact very much like a bird: the way she spoke, acted, walked, gestured, sat; everything about her was small, nervous, and delicately feminine. Well, at least in front of her husband. At times she broke out of her bird-like shell and was a woman that Jeffery would be proud to call mother, but she always shrank back again; as if she was afraid of the very thought of change. He glanced at the large grandfather clock against the far wall.
9:32.
/Mother'll be in heah soon./ He threw back the down comforter and stepped onto the hand woven rug next to his bed. He extended a hand to balance himself against the footboard as he slipped his shoes on. As if on cue, his mother knocked at his door.
"Jeffery?" She asked, her voice far to chipper for the morn. "Are you decent deah?" She knocked again, slightly harder.
Jeff sighed and slipped his pants on. "Yes mother...I'm ready."
-----
Jeff gazed sleepily out the window of the car, his mother smiling grandly and gazing at the new hat she had bought. She flicked a speck of dust off the brim and set it back in her lap, straightening the flowers that sat on top.
Jeff's foot hit the hatbox, and he glared down at it, as if it would apologize for being in his way. He sighed and wriggled around in his seat; he hated being confined for large periods of time, almost as much as he hated shopping.
"Lawrence, stop here."
A pair of kind brown eyes peered at Emily Jefferson in the rear-view mirror. "Yes'm." The chauffeur pulled to the curb and jumped out to open her door.
Jeff rolled his eyes and opened his own door, slamming it hard after getting out. His mother walked briskly into Macy's, the doorman rushing to get the door for her. The cold air hit Jeff head on and blew his hair away from his face. The scent of thousands of perfumes all mixed together hit him next, making him want to gag. He held his breath and held a hand over his nose, following his mother from one counter to the next.
"Jeffery! Jeffery!" Emily Jefferson called out her front window. She pulled her head back in and began to wring her hands again. She paced back and forth in front of her husband.
Robert rolled his eyes and put the paper in his lap.
Emily jumped at the loud crinkling sound.
"Emily deahest, you can't be worrying yourself sick ova that boy. He'll come home when he's good an' ready." He shook the paper out and lifted it again, sinking lower into his plush scarlet chair.
Emily perched herself on the edge of the sofa nervously, ready to jump as soon as the front door made so much as a squeak.
-----
"Come on Jeff!" Lucy Peters called to her best friend as she raced up the large hill. She tucked her skirt between her legs and lay down on the soft grass, watching as the first white stars began to appear overhead.
"I dunno why youse like this so much Luce!" Jeffery Jefferson {he had always hated his name} grumbled as he trekked up the hill after her. He plopped down next to her and folded his arms.
She sat up and tweaked his thin nose. "Come on! It's really fun okay? Trust me." She lay back down and glanced at him over her shoulder.
"It ain't, I mean it's not right Lucy. You're a girl!"
She shrugged awkwardly. "And youse is a boy, so?"
Jeff finally gave up and laid down, the soles of his feet resting against hers.
"Ready?!"
"Yeah, yeah. Les just get this ova with."
"Set?!"
"I'se doin' this under protest!"
"Go!" The two ten year olds took off down the emerald hill, rolling as fast as the laws of nature would allow them to.
-----
Emily's heart leapt into her throat as the front door opened then slammed closed again.
"Whoops...sorry!" A small voice called out.
She ran to her son, smothering him with "Where were you"'s, and "I was so worried"'s. "Ya absolutely filthy!" She cried out, suddenly afraid to touch him. She dragged him through the living room and into the nearest bathroom.
"Heya son."
"Heya pop..." The two called out to each other as hysterical mother and child passed by.
Once in the safety of the bathroom, Emily began turning the spigots in the tub. "Jeffery, where were you? You had your father an' me worried sick!" She shook her head and tested the water with a slim hand.
Jeff rolled his eyes and leaned against the porcelain countertop.
Emily shook the excess water off, then dried her hand on the skirt of her blue dress. "Oh dear...well, it's not like it'll stain." She mumbled to herself after she noticed what she had done. She turned to her son and folded her slender arms. "Yes, well, you can take a bath right? 'Course ya can...you're almost eleven years old now." She nodded, a weak smile flickering across her small mouth. She clapped her hands together and practically lunged for the doorknob, eager to get out into the not-so-humid hallway. "Get on with it then, dinner'll be waitin' for ya." She grasped the doorknob then thought better of it. Turning, she pecked her son on the head and was out the door in the batting of an eye.
-----
Jeff toweled himself off slowly, dreading the dinner that awaited him. "Pro'bly snails again...or that fishy stuff." He grumbled to himself as he gazed at his hazy reflection. His mother's voice went 'round in his head.
/"My little boy's growin' up so fast!" /
"What if I don't wanna grow up?" He shouted as his image. It echoed him, mockingly silent. He stretched his arm across the counter and rubbed out the condensation that had gathered on the mirror. Jeff sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched the water drain, wishing he could go with it.
-----
Emily paced back in forth before the dining room table, rearranging this, or replacing that. Her son begrudgingly descended the stairs, taking one step at a time, as slowly as he could. Her brow furrowed slightly. "Jeffery, why aren't you wearin' your dinner clothes?"
Jeff stopped five steps from the bottom and looked up, a small scowl on his lips. "Aww, Ma it's jus' you an' me, do I' really hafta?"
Emily frowned and pulled out a chair for her son. "Jeffery, you shouldn't tawk that way. We worked hard to rid ourselves of that horrible accent..." She bit her lip, thinking to herself what a hypocritical statement that had been. She glanced back up at her son and flashed him a small smile. "Nevermind, wear what you like, jes'...come an' eat something, okay?" She pulled out another chair and gracefully planted herself in it. She patted the chair next to her.
Jeff rolled his eyes and continued down the stairs, shuffling the last few feet. He threw himself in his chair dramatically and picked up his fork, tapping it against the edge of the tablecloth covered table. His mother shot him a disapproving look, and he stopped immediately, letting the utensil clatter noisily on the tabletop.
Emily sighed lightly. "Mary...Mary dahlink? Is Jeffrey's dinner ready?"
A tall wiry woman with coal black hair poked her tired head through the doorway. "Yes mum, it'll be out in a jiff." She curtsied swiftly and rushed back into the kitchen.
-----
Jeff folded one arm across his stomach and held his cup in the other. He swirled it round, listening contentedly to the chinking of the ice as it met the glass surface. His mother had long since gone to bed, tired of waiting on him to finish. The only other person awake was Mary, who was busy scouring pots and grumbling to herself in the kitchen. He put down his almost empty glass on the table with a soft thud and crossed his arms in front of him, roaming over his teeth with his tongue.
Mary sighed and looked up after hearing the thud of Jeff's glass on the table. Jus' like 'is fathah, that one. "Will you be requirin' inythin' more sih?" She paused her scrubbing and waited for his reply.
Jeffery shook his head, then remembered that she couldn't see him. "Oh...well den, no Mary." He pushed his chair back and glanced at his plate. "I'm jus' gonna go ta bed now...ya want me ta get this?" He picked up the edge of his plate and let it drop again; signaling to her what her was talking about.
Mary paused her scrubbing again. "No sih, I'll get it."
"Okay." He said, more to himself than Mary. He heard her resume her cleaning and took off to his room.
-----
Jeff awoke the next morning feeling duller than ever. It was Saturday. Great, He thought in disgust. Saturday meant no school, and no church to busy himself with, and worst of all no Lucy. Every weekend Lucy Peters visited her dad in Queens. He was a handy man of sorts, and had sent his daughter to live with his sister on Staten Island. He could only care for her on the weekends, and hardly even then. Jeff ran a hand through his cropped brown hair and fell back onto his pillows, throwing three of them onto the floor. Emily Jefferson had a 'thing' for pillows. His father used to joke that she was a goose in past life, and was trying to get all of her feathers back. He smiled at the thought, his mother was in fact very much like a bird: the way she spoke, acted, walked, gestured, sat; everything about her was small, nervous, and delicately feminine. Well, at least in front of her husband. At times she broke out of her bird-like shell and was a woman that Jeffery would be proud to call mother, but she always shrank back again; as if she was afraid of the very thought of change. He glanced at the large grandfather clock against the far wall.
9:32.
/Mother'll be in heah soon./ He threw back the down comforter and stepped onto the hand woven rug next to his bed. He extended a hand to balance himself against the footboard as he slipped his shoes on. As if on cue, his mother knocked at his door.
"Jeffery?" She asked, her voice far to chipper for the morn. "Are you decent deah?" She knocked again, slightly harder.
Jeff sighed and slipped his pants on. "Yes mother...I'm ready."
-----
Jeff gazed sleepily out the window of the car, his mother smiling grandly and gazing at the new hat she had bought. She flicked a speck of dust off the brim and set it back in her lap, straightening the flowers that sat on top.
Jeff's foot hit the hatbox, and he glared down at it, as if it would apologize for being in his way. He sighed and wriggled around in his seat; he hated being confined for large periods of time, almost as much as he hated shopping.
"Lawrence, stop here."
A pair of kind brown eyes peered at Emily Jefferson in the rear-view mirror. "Yes'm." The chauffeur pulled to the curb and jumped out to open her door.
Jeff rolled his eyes and opened his own door, slamming it hard after getting out. His mother walked briskly into Macy's, the doorman rushing to get the door for her. The cold air hit Jeff head on and blew his hair away from his face. The scent of thousands of perfumes all mixed together hit him next, making him want to gag. He held his breath and held a hand over his nose, following his mother from one counter to the next.