No vigil to the right. A blonde head flicked behind a couch, thoroughly amusing the woman folding laundry on it.
"No enemies on the right! Except you! Double O Donut takes down another victim with his awesome jetpack!" The blonde head popped out from behind the upholstery with a flurry of poorly imitated jetpack sound effects and charged the woman in a leap described no better than an epic fail. She dropped a freshly folded shirt and caught him with one arm by the ankle before he could taste the auburn fibers in her latest matching carpet and dropped him beside her.
"Whoa! You've got a good arm mom!"
She smiled pleasantly at his uncanny enthusiasm and laughed, flexing her biceps, "That's funny seeing as though I never really do anything with my arms except catch you."
"Yeah, that's okay. How did you know I was there?"
The corners of her lips as well as her eyebrows rose considerably as she wondered how to answer without offending him," well…I always know when my baby boy is near me. I love you, my little donut."
Donut grinned back then directed his powder blue eyes to a picture on the table by the couch, "You loved dad too right? Before he went to join the war, I mean. Cause everyone knows war can make a guy super, super grumpy and stuff."
Elen couldn't bring herself to feel sorrow when she thought of her late husband anymore. At least not initially. Rather, regretful pride swelled from her heart now, because he hadn't died for nothing…not completely. He had met, loved and even partially raised little Franklin Delano Donut before being drafted and consequentially, murdered by the covenant. Or so the soldiers had told her and Donut when the lifeless husk of a once vibrant blonde man was carted out of a helicopter. He would never see his son act in his first play or...attempt to be a soldier like the father he admired.
"Oh, yeah. I loved you're father like it was nobody's business."
"It wasn't anybody's business, mom! Think I'll be as good a soldier as dad?"
No.
"Yes. Absolutely."
Donut was definitely a determined child but there was no denying he was a tad…flamboyant. Just a tad. He was also ten times more gullible than said soldier and had a bit of innocence that would be welcomed only by death in war. She just couldnt bring herself to upset him.
"I think I'll be a really good soldier."
Elen stood from the couch holding a few of the more stained beyond repair articles of clothing and began walking towards the window until Donut used himself as an anchor and clamped himself around her ankle, "Where are you going?"
Sighing, she lifted him to his feet. "Franklin, I'm just looking out the window."
"Every other time you do that you cry." He argued, watching her as she relaxed herself along the bay window. He joined her, seeing no gain in reason, and brushed the crimson satin of her curtains aside to see outside, resting a supportive hand on hers where it sat on the sill.
I shouldn't have talked about dad… Donut thought, feeling a familiar bitter regret that he often felt when his admiration brought his father's name out of his imagination and into his mouth. Once he was mentioned, his mother would often lose herself to anything outside of him, pretend he wasn't there.
"Mom, I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"
"Franklin Delano Donut."
That meant 'quiet' so he shut his mouth and looked out the window. He was almost surprised to feel his mother's soft blonde head against his. Great, you upset her Donut. Now what?
They sat in their silence for at least a minute before Donut felt the warm dampness of a tear on his hand. He glanced up to his mother's face and closed his eyes against the desire to just tell her to stop.
"Mom…"
"Franklin, make your mother a promise."
"If I do will you stop crying?"
She pulled her head up and wiped her eyes nodding.
"Okay then…" He held her face in his hands and checked to be sure her tears were gone. "What's the promise?"
"Promise me that as long as I'm alive you won't walk out the door and join the army. Promise me you'll go to school, study and start a family. Hopefully when you're done with school it won't be too late for you."
He let his hands fall from her face and looked back out the window, "I can't do that."
The soiled clothes were clenched in her hands, "…Why not? You're father never came back when he walked out that door."
"And that's why." He said matter of factly, his normal cheerful undertone back, "I can't promise you what he promised you. When he promised, he died. I don't want to die, mom. I'll be a really good soldier and I promise when I leave that door I will come back. I mean, you know, alive. I'll come back alive. I promise!"
He gave her thumbs up and a smile which she returned, albeit with less enthusiasm. "You are a very… unique child."
"And you're a very unique mom! By the way…is that my favorite red shirt?"
She found herself staring at the inappropriately bleached shirt and shrugged apologetically, "Now it's…lightish red?"
He stared at the shirt, then her, then the shirt again before beaming, "Yeah-he-he! Awesome!"