Kehshathria Chapter Twenty-Eight
On Wednesday the note just said "Maintain former instruction." I gave a roll of my eyes, and made the coffee too strong. Mistress left before 4 am again. I wondered about what she had to do so early at the school.
Then I thought to myself, ' wonder if 'former instruction' means do the flaw thing, or get back on track, or maintain the flaws we made yesterday?'
To remind myself of a normal home, I remember Master Robert ran his home like a coach on steroids. When he introduced himself to me I knelt.When he spoke I just listened. He was a good man, and by and by I worked more as a Butler/servant for him and his wife. they where both in their late 40s, and never had children. I missed George, but I was also happy about being away from him at the same time. Rob encouraged me to study. And I was settled and happy within weeks. I seldom got in trouble there, until six months in, the powers that be put George back with me. I mean, at first it was good times. Just like when we where kids. We hung out , he gave me attention. Master Robert was a man of action not affections, very stern. But George and I had fun and that was nice. But I just don't see it anymore , now.
I was 15 that summer when George had an idea brewing under the facade of our garage auto shop. He was angling for a particular "client". We hid the car, claimed it was stolen from the shop and got the auto insurance and the business insurance to pay out. Some kid that knew the "client" remembered seeing the car being towed out of town, and it wasn't long before the cops arrested us from my dad's living room. Tried and convicted of accessory to commit grand larceny, four years reform. I was terrified. George was stone faced, and cock sure. I was not. I needed George, but I ... resented him.
I was going to save up the money we earned and use it toward my college. I wanted to be a Science teacher. And now I was sitting in a cold grey cell, being medically examined, and passed on to the next cell where I was psychologically evaluated, and a next cell to be interviewed about the Reformee Placement procedure. George was my last bit of normal, now that my world had flipped upside down. I... I forgot that I was ever a boy who chased a dieing duck.
Diana came shuffling in. We didn't have happy faces this morning. " I hoped she wasn't going to say anything about it?" Diana muttered out loud, drawing my curiosity. She looked at me. "I mean we where having a talk in the car when I slipped up and was all 'wow' about him becoming an investigator. In a way isn't this back lash my fault?" She rued.
"Don't blame yourself D, he started it himself. She even gave him time to think himself over when she told him to play a guessing game. Woman's crafty, it is more like you telling her was a que for Carol to work on the problem at hand."
" Jerry, you sound like you know Mistress pretty good. But she's gone insane just a bit don't you think? Tormenting him? I mean things around here where settled and life was good, now she is going after him hard. I don't like it." I let myself laugh at the young Diana.
" Well look at it like this, you know you will be going to military service, right? So you will have to go through training camp. You think they will play nice? Mistress Carol has to intensify on George, because he needs to build physical and mental endurance. You can build your own up just by observing what is going on between them."
" Jerry, I think your stoned, but I guess so. But isn't she purposely trying to intimidate us by not taking their business to the chamber? Why do I have to watch him crawl around?"
"I am thinking, I mean for myself anyway, That no matter how I may feel threatened, George is the one taking it. A. Her attention is divided away from us. Which mean we are doing well. B. It is worse for him. C. She is his reformer. And I think we just have to try to make sure we keep out of trouble. I don't mean to sound hard but, I think he is getting what he deserves now. And it is just a taste of what he's getting himself into. " And we served breakfast, George was very slow coming with his thump-slighter decent of the front stairs he didn't join us for breakfast.
We sat in the kitchen literally holding our breath, as we listened to the front door struggle open and slam shut. Then we saw him five minits later crawling underwear clad into the shed to get window washing equipment. The sight of it was unproud. He was a well build boy not hairy, besides hair doesn't grow on scars, his back was crossed with over 100 old streaks ,and he kept his stomach and legs toned and well cut. The remains of last night stained them nearly down to his knees. Yet he struggled to drag the pail, squiggy, soap, towels and some tape and poles, to the front yard where the water hose was.
"Did he hear us?" She whispered. I reached out my mind, and told her no. George was on his own trip today. He didn't feel right to me today. And we went on our chores in silence.
The windows on the first floor had billowing streak marks that reached the grand height of less than half of the bottom pane. That took him clear until lunch, which he joined us for.
"Hows that working out for you G" Diana could barely help herself, as she spyed his tired slumped frame devour his lunch. He shot her a sharp cold glare, which set her back.
"I didn't think it would be you D. Jerry is the one I thought would have something smart to say, but not you. After all that we have been thru, you know." She started to stammer. And I smelt his manipulation and watched her iris' narrow. And his digestion seemed to improve. And I .... think I hated him.
" So that's how it is going to be George, you catch a little hell and then you start to fink out? I don't know what you have on Diana but it has nothing to do with what is going on with you." I defended her. He looked defensively in my general direction. "Hey, I am just saying that I didn't think it she would have made the remark. Why are you so touchy anyway?" He lied.
' He's a fucking liar. But he wasn't always. Well we used to talk about everything, I knew his darkest secrets, he knew me. We laughed, we worked together, we drank together. He wasn't always like this. I swear. The George I knew, is not this George. That George was my brother. This George was a liar. And my mind twisted and churned and I spent the rest of my day rearranging the living room not much giving a damn about making flaws.
Mistress came home as usual, and inspected as usual, and we ate dinner, she told us our work was good and let George recover. There was an interesting episode of "the lives and times of the snail"