This Is Your Strife

Chapter Ten

"Did you hear the news? Alex Trump – you know, the guy who flushed my father's picture down the toilet – apparently his father's gone missing and reports are that he's dead." He stared into his soup. "Ironic, isn't it?"

"But of course. Irony was the whole point."

"You didn't –"

"I didn't have him killed. I merely detained him and spread the false reports of him being dead." He sipped of his mid-day tea.

"Wow. That's brutal." He smirked. "I like your style."

"Just wait until you hear what I did to your counselor. I hired a group of ruffians to beat him half to death right in front of the police and then bribed the police to arrest him and let his attackers go."

Waylon cupped his hand over his mouth and said, "You didn't!" as if he were responding to a piece of juicy gossip as opposed to a condemnable action.

"Oh, but I did. And as for your principal – I hit him with my car. When he cried out in pain, I told him to 'suck it up; be a man!' and drove off. When I later entered their offices to have a little chat about your standing at Springfield High School, they were more than eager to let you stay and graduate with honors."

"Sir, I must say, I'm impressed. You are a master of revenge."

"Aren't you glad to be on my side?"

"Very glad." He stirred his soup in tensely constricted swirls. "I still haven't talked to my parents. They're going to be mad I didn't come home last night. Well, my mom will be. She'll be even madder that I still haven't come home."

"Don't worry about that."

"But how can I not?"

"All right. After lunch, I'll go with you and talk to them."

"Well, my stepdad won't be there. He'll be at work."

"All the better."

Around one in the afternoon, Waylon pulled in front of his house in a 1913 Chevrolet Model C, Mr. Burns in the passenger seat beside him. They walked up to the doorstep, and before Mr. Burns could even rap on the door, Mrs. Smithers flung it open. "Waylon Joshua Smithers Junior! Where the hell have you been?" Her eyes shot to Mr. Burns. "What are you doing with my son?" she spat out in a protective fury.

"Soothing his aches and welts. Young Waylon here arrived for work yesterday after school, and he revealed to me that he'd been beaten rather savagely."

Her eyes welled with tears as her mouth dropped open a bit. "Oh, honey..." She hugged him and said in a croaky, shuddery whisper, "I'm so sorry." She wept into his shoulder and stroked the back of his head.

"You shouldn't be sorry, mom. It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is. I should have been able to protect you. I've failed you. I don't deserve to be your mother!"

"He's right, Hattie," said Mr. Burns, laying a hand on her shoulder. "It's not your fault."

Mrs. Smithers opened the door further and gestured for them to come inside. Mr. Burns took a seat in a yellow-green floral print chair while Waylon and Mrs. Smithers sat on a beige sofa together. She turned to her son and said, "Tell me what they did to you this time."

"It doesn't matter."

"You say that every time, and every time, they get away with it. You need to tell me these things."

"No, I don't. I'm eighteen, mother."

"You're still my child."

"But I don't need you like I used to."

"Clearly you still do."

"Mr. Burns took care of them already. They won't hurt me again."

"A knife, Waylon. My God. He assaulted you with a knife?"

"Yes."

Mr. Burns said, "The assailant threatened to cut off his genitals."

"We're going straight to the police."

"Please, mother, I don't want to be embroiled in a court battle. I just want to get on with my life."

"What if they attack you again?"

"They won't."

"Don't be stupid. Of course they will!"

"They won't," said Mr. Burns. "I have made sure of that."

"How can you be so sure? How could you have found a way to protect him when I've tried for ten years and failed?"

"Let's just say that with great wealth comes great opportunity – including the opportunity to exact vengeance without repercussion."

"What if this just provokes them further? What exactly did you do to them?"

"I have done nothing but put the fear of Monty Burns into them. They won't trouble your son any longer. Of that you have my guarantee."

"What were you doing at Mr. Burns' home, anyway? Winton told me you were seeing Cheryl last night."

"Yes, well, he asked me to come over, and I couldn't say 'no.'"

"You'd rather go to work than see your girlfriend?" She looked into his eyes and said, "Tell me, Waylon. Do you love her?"

"I do." It wasn't a lie. She didn't turn him on, but he did love her as a friend.

"Then why are you avoiding her?"

"I'm not avoiding her; things just came up."

"She called last night. She told me you didn't stay overnight with her."

"I told you already that I was with Mr. Burns last night."

"Not last night, the night before. She told me you've never stayed with her overnight."

"Maybe she was just lying so she wouldn't get in trouble."

"I told her I was okay with you two having sex as long as you used protection. I told her I wouldn't tell her parents. I could hear it in her voice; she wasn't lying. But I can hear it in your voice – you are lying."

"I'm not, I –"

"I wasn't born yesterday. Are you seeing someone on the side?"

"What? No!"

"He was with me," said Mr. Burns. "I saw him at the movie theater with his girlfriend and asked him to assist me. We had a late night, and so he slept with me – at the manor, I mean."

She turned to Waylon. "Then why did you lie to me about where you were?"

"I – uh..."

"Mr. Burns, I don't want you near my son anymore."

"What?" They said in a simultaneous gasp before saying, again in unison, "Why?"

"Because you're spending too much time together."

"But mother, he's my only real friend."

"He's driving you away from Cheryl."

"Mrs. Smithers, I won't make him work late again. I promise."

"I don't want him working for you at all."

Waylon said, "Why not?"

"I don't want to get a phone call from him one day telling me you've mysteriously gone missing."

"Perhaps it's best this way," said Mr. Burns. "It's been a pleasure, Waylon." He stood and extended his hand.

"But sir, I want to go on working for you, and she can't stop me."

"She can't, but I will."

"But sir..."

"You'll go to Springfield University, you'll get a degree, a steady job, a wife and kids, and you'll do so without my help. I want to see the man you make of yourself." He took Waylon's hand and shook. "Farewell, Waylon." He walked out the door, then turned back. "One last thing – would you give me a ride back to the manor?"

"Of course, sir." He stood and followed Mr. Burns.

"I'll let you know when your car is back from the detailer. You can keep the Chevrolet until then."

"I'll be back home soon, mom."

"Be careful."

"I will."

He opened the passenger door for Mr. Burns before getting behind the wheel himself. Once they were moving, Waylon said, "Sir, I can work for you and still go to Springfield University."

"I've already told you. You're through working for me."

"But why? Aren't I a good worker?"

"Yes."

"Don't you like me?

"Yes."

"Didn't you say I should go for what I want, regardless of what my family wants for me?"

"Yes."

"Well, what I want is to work for you."

"And what I want is for you to make your own way. Make your own friends. Make your own success." Waylon sniffled a bit. "I believe you have what it takes. Prove me right."

"Thank you, sir. I will do my best."

"That's the spirit." He took out a handkerchief and dabbed at Waylon's cheek, soaking up his sadness. "You're young, so you may have a hard time understanding this, but people don't stay in your life forever. People come and go, and you'll get along just fine without them."

"Really? So losing my father, that didn't hurt you?"

"Of course it hurt me!"

"But you don't still feel a void in your life, missing your best friend?"

"This isn't about your father."

"Don't you still miss him? Because I miss him, and I never even knew him."

"He is why I cannot let you work for me."

"Huh?"

"Your mother is right. I pulled him away from her. He spent less and less time with her up until his demise, and I was the last to see him alive before that tribe of Amazonians killed him. I want you to build your life with Cheryl. You told me what you wanted was the wife, the kids, the picket fence, and I don't want to stand in your way."

"What if I don't really want that?"

"Then you'll discover that on your own, as you should." They pulled into the drive in front of the entrance, and Waylon got out and opened the passenger door for Mr. Burns, taking his hand to help him out of the vehicle. "I will miss you terribly, Waylon. My dear, dear friend." They shook hands. "Farewell." He lightly squeezed Waylon's upper arm.

"Farewell, Mr. Burns," he said with a doleful smile. As Burns withdrew his arm, Waylon hugged him in desperation. "I'll miss you more than I can say."