Darryl cursed as he opened the front door and heard how loud the radio had been turned up to. It felt like the walls were vibrating from the sound.
"Mabel? Turn the radio down will you!" he called out as his bag dropped to the floor with a thud and he strode down the hall, kicking off his clumpy work boots as he went. He peered round the corner of the kitchen door and met her bleary-eyed look his way. "Oh Jeez! You have been at the bottle again?"
She waved a hand airily as if to dismiss a stupid question. "No, I've only had a couple."
Darryl snatched the bottle off the table and poured what was left of the contents down the sink. He then grabbed a glass from the shelf and filled it with water.
"Hey!" she yelled in surprise. "What a waste!"
"Of you. Now drink and drink it all!" He leaned over her as she did so, staring wide-eyed at him over the rim of the glass. She'd never seen him so angry with her. "I'll make supper...you don't seem up to doing that."
"No, you won't, I will!" She said it as she got up from the kitchen chair and stumbled towards him in slow but determined steps. A hand shot to her head, her hair with its streaks of dyed blonde was a mess, in a tangle, and falling on each side of her face. "Oh!"
Darryl gripped her outstretched hand and kept her from falling.
"Money's tight, but we get by, and this is what you do? It's not going to help...it won't bring the bastard back, not that I want to see him again after what he did to you...to us!"
Mabel saw the ferocity of his actions as he jabbed a finger into his chest.
"Ease up, son, I'm to blame as much as anyone." Trembling hands clutched at her dressing gown in an attempt to cover herself properly.
"That's right, go blaming yourself for him going off and shagging other women! You did the best you could for us three when money was tight. Now, when I've got some real work you go feeling all sorry for yourself and do this!"
"I said I'm sorry!" Angrily she grabbed his arm to make Darryl look at her. "Things just get to me, you know that."
"And I sure know that hitting the bottle isn't the answer."
"Clever of you!" she sniped back. Mabel followed him around the kitchen as he looked for a cooking pan to put some food in and heat it. "There's not much, sorry. I...I didn't get to the shops."
"Yeah, so I see." He met her baleful look as she tugged tight the belt of her thin dressing gown again, the fabric too slippery to make it possible without double-knotting it. She pushed his hands away as he tried to help her.
"I...I don't think you should do that, son." She had felt an uncommon thrill from feeling his touch upon her.
Darryl shrugged but still looked at her.
"You haven't even bothered to get dressed. What do I have to do to make you feel that you're still worth something and to someone?"
Mabel put her hands to his arms as Darryl brushed her hair away and gazed down into her eyes. Her son was taking control.
"Don't be angry, please. I'm easing up on the booze, I promise."
"Before we go broke!" The way she clung to him and then brushed her fingers over his lips had him thinking that she was sorry and wanted to make it right between them.
"I won't let that happen, darling. Now, help me to my room and, I'll put something on. That's what you want, isn't it?"
Darryl sighed as he saw her move away and to the foot of the stairs that led from the kitchen to the landing above them and the two bedrooms that they occupied. Even if he was her son, and angry now on seeing the state she was in, he still felt the spark of longing for the woman before him and the fire in his groin that seeing her shaped by that flimsy dressing gown had aroused.
He was a horny guy and remembered how he had heard his parents fucking sometimes. He had taken to wondering, since Frank had abandoned them, if it was him or any man in her bed, and taking her, that she missed more than anything. Attention of that sort made her feel good about herself.
"Why are you looking at me like that, son?"