Goku, Gohan and Goten sat by the fire in the living room of the son home. The tawny glow was the only thing illuminating the small room. Their Sony television was positioned in the corner and was currently playing some annual Christmas movie, although the event was still two weeks away.
Gohan, as usual, balanced a thrift store sketch pad on his knee, an assortment of pencils sat on his stomach and he held an eraser between his toes. Goku watched his son as he made faces at the page and gently stroked the pencil over the surface.
Goten was lodging over one of the armchairs. His long, thin legs swung over the edge, his head rested against the back and he kept his arms folded over his chest. The youngest son, needless to say, looked terrible. His eyes were dark and sullen, his skin was pale and he had completely lost his appetite. Gohan kept pestering him to eat at the dinner table, when he simply pushed his food around the plate, and even went as far to suggest that he may be anorexic. Of course, the younger man had shrugged this off and denied the accusations.
As for Goku, he continually was switching between channels as well as glancing between both his sons.
He clicked the remote, once, twice and then again.
“Dad! Pick a channel and leave it!” Goten snapped.
“There’s nothing good on.” Goku complained and changed the channel again.
“For fuck sake.” The younger man muttered.
“Language!”
“I’ll get a DVD.”Goten swung his feet onto the floor and stood to leave the room, “I’ll bring a few.”
Goku grunted a reply and resumed to click through the channel. It was times like these that he wished he had a hobby.
Gohan reached for the porcelain table lamp, clicked it on and resumed to sketch. His hand moved swiftly across the surface of the page, fine lines and smudges appearing on the paper.
“Who is she?” Goku asked.
He glanced over his son’s shoulder to view a rough, but detailed, sketch of a young woman. She had been in many of his other pieces, the ones he kept privately in his blank journal books, in various media. There was no doubt that the sketched woman was the same person. Her hair was mid-length, and Goku knew from the coloured pictures that it was a deep navy. Her cheeks were shaded suggesting a hit of a blush but her eyes were sad and no smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She appeared to be crying.
Gohan looked up at his father, bewildered.
“What?”
“Who is she?” Goku repeated, “I’ve seen her in your other pieces.”
“What other pieces? The ones down town?”
“The ones in your bag.”
“You weren’t supposed to see them.” Gohan snapped, he shut the book, “How dare you invade my privacy.”
“Whats the big deal? It’s only a picture!”
“It’s not on-“ Gohan stopped himself. He took a deep breath and turned away from his father. He put his supplies in their case, tucked his book under his arm and made to leave.
“Son.” Goku sighed, “Was she special?”
“You don’t know me. You know nothing about my life or what I have been through.” Gohan’s voice was a low, threatening glow, “Stop pretending.”
Goku jumped to his feet and swung round to face his son.
“What the hell is wrong with you? You come back, all mysterious and apparently reformed, do a few good deeds and suddenly everyone has forgotten what a pain in the ass you where!”
“You weren’t even aro-“
“I’ve heard all the stories. What you put your mother through was selfish Gohan! I’m sorry I died, Okay! But I had a duty to serve. Everything was not about you.”
Gohan growled.
“You come back here as if everything was awesome when I was 16 Goku! I had no father figure to help me through my teens! Do you know what that’s like? At least you had Master Rochi. I had a pushy, bitchy mother who whinned all the time and insisted I study until I was doing calculus in my sleep!” Gohan turned away from Goku, “So it’s none of your business who she is. In fact the last three years are none of your business.”
Goku watched his son leave, anger boiling in his veins. He desperately wanted to shout back at his son, to get in the last word but he could think of nothing to say. Gohan was right in a way. He had needed someone to talk to during those years he was dead. And he had had no one. The saiyan was no expert but he knew enough to bet that the experience had left his son with major trust issues.
He sighed and pinched the bride of his nose between his finger and thumb. He sat back down in his previous position just as the youngest Son member entered the room. He carried two CD wallets full of DVD’s. He stood for a moment, bewildered at the absence of his brother.
“Has Van Gogh gone to cut off his ear?”
It never ceased to amaze Chi Chi how much saiyans could put away but she been finding it easier and easier to feed herself and her 3 men lately. Goku still ate ‘healthy’ sized portions for a man of his size and race and, although Gohan wasn’t eating the same as what he used to, he still could put away a fair amount. It was Goten that raised any cause for concern. His eating habits had become none existent and some would even go as far to say that he had developed an eating disorder. But Chi Chi knew just to look at her son that this was not the case. For starters she knew when he said that he wasn’t hungry, that he really wasn’t hungry because his stomach never protested and nor did he seem to be interested in the food at all. Call it mother’s intuition; she just knew.
She had stopped pestering her youngest son to join them at the table and instead she settled for making him soup and strong coffee. Soup seemed to be the only thing he tried to eat but even as he lifted the spoon she could see a distant look in his eyes. More than once she had thought of taking him to the doctor but it never came to anything; to be honest she didn’t want to know.
She had gotten so used to sitting with just her husband and eldest that she barely seemed to care anymore. This morning she would kill to have Goten ; he was always great at breaking tension.
Goku ate his food with less haste than usual, his face pulled into a concentrated scowl and his eyes remaining firmly on the plate of food. Gohan also kept his eyes averted but he only pushed his toast and egg around his plate and his expression was almost heartbreaking. Chi Chi glanced anxiously from one to the other.
“Have you any plans for today Gohan?” Chi Chi asked, trying desperately to break the ice.
“Going to view a loft.” Gohan replied bluntly without even looking up from his breakfast plate.
Chi Chi frowned, “I thought you were going to stay with us for a while?”
“I’ve been here long enough.”
“It’s been a few months. I told you that we are happy to have you around.”
“Speak for yourself.” Goku muttered, “Let him go if he wants.”
“Goku! I thought you had cleared this all up with each other? Why the sudden resentment?”
“His attitude!”
Gohan didn’t look up as his father continued to complain about his son’s obsession with privacy and ‘snappy attitude’, he just pushed his food around his plate.
“He’s 19 now Goku!” His mother shouted, “Of course he wants privacy.”
“Exactally Chi. He wants privacy. The only reason he hasn’t cleared off to get his own place is because he’s using us like a hostel and a bank!”
“I’ve wanted to move out for months,“ Gohan snapped, “ but Mom would be heartbroken if I did. And I don’t need your money or ‘hospitality’. I am more than capable of looking after myself.”
“Wow. You’re actually thinking of someone outside your own bubble.”
“Fuck you Goku.” Gohan growled.
He stood up violently from his chair.
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that you runt?!” Goku stood also.
He pushed his chair back with such force that it fell with a crash to the tiles. They glared at each other through the awkward silence, each standing at opposite ends of the table. Chi Chi stared both bewildered and frightened; her breakfast was long forgotten.
“I’ll be gone by the weekend.” Gohan snapped, he then turned on his heel and left the room.
Goku picked up his chair and sat back down at the table. He looked to his wife.
“Chi?”
“No. Don’t!” She growled, tears ran down her rosy cheeks, “You’ve drove him away again Goku. You’ve drove my baby away.”
Goku sighed as his wife dashed from the room. He couldn’t win.
“Hello you’ve reached my cell phone. I’m not here right now but leave me a message. Bye.”
Trunks snapped the phone shut. Her cheery, sweet voice rung in his ears; it was his 4th call to her phone tonight. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew it was impossible for her to answer but as long as her cell existed he was going to keep calling it.
He was seated on the couch nearest the window, dressed for work but not at all ready to face society after so long. There was no way around it though; he needed to put his life back together, piece by piece.
Upon checking his watch he decided to leave so that he had time to mentally prepare himself. He locked his wing door before leaving and sauntered casually down the hall way. He bid good bye to his father, whom was in the kitchen watching Bulma cook, and he kissed his mother on the cheek.
“Good luck.” She beamed.
His black Aston Martin DB9 was parked at the furthest point in the large garage between one of his mothers many vehicles and his father’s royal blue Chevrolet Camaro. It still had its new car smell and the interior was chilled.
Trunks sighed and took in the scent and the feel of the leather against his back. It was unfamiliar after so long. He fitted the key into the slot, switched on the engine and gently slid the palm of his hands over the steering wheel. Kami, he was nervous.
However, he needn’t have been. The people in work welcomed him back with open arms, taking time to talk to him and ask him how he was doing. He replied and even held up a decent conversation. He even found that he had missed working.
There had been talk circulating about Goten, why he had d been laid off and the like. Trunks found that during his six hour shift that drugs or alcohol seemed to be particularly popular rumours. He had even been asked about it but, truthfully, he knew nothing.
Shift change rolled round at six that evening and Trunks can honestly say he could have stayed for another six hours.
Posted by
0 comments:
Post a Comment