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Some days had passed and Frank had not shown up again yet. On the third day after Jackie’s and Frank’s date Brian walked in on his mother talking to someone on the phone. Judged by the look on her face and the girlish way she talked, Frank was on the opponent.

Brian greeted his mom while he walked by to his room. He shut the door and laid down on his already made bed.

His mother had always been very religious. They used to went to church almost every Sunday if Jackie did not have to work at the dentist who had an emergency service running some Sundays a month. Brian used to sing in the choir, but stopped since some bullies at school living in this odd neighbourhood he lived in had shown him that it was better to stop. Life was hard enough in Junior High.

His mother had told him that if it wasn’t for God, he might have been dead. HE saved him. HE worked that miracle. A miracle. That was what Brian needed to have Frank leaving his mother and him alone without being hurt. Maybe praying would do.

He closed his eyes a said a silent prayer pleading to God to make Frank stay away from his mother and him and that, if Frank was really the man to make his mother happy again, for the strength he needed to endure whatever Frank did to him. As usual his last wish to God was to keep his real father and brother save.

No, he did not really know them. He wasn’t sure if he really cared about them. But they were relatives. His father, who had once loved his mother. And his brother. The son he knew his mother missed much. And he was sure it was as hard to grow up without a mother to his brother as it was to grow up without a father to him.


“Hey Dad! Guess what?” eleven years old Harry shouted as he entered the kitchen of the nice one family house he and his father lived in.

“Harry, boy. You gave me a shock here. I did not hear you coming” Harold Littrell turned around from the cooker.

“Sorry. What’s for lunch?” Harry sat down at the already set table.

“Pancakes!”

“Why did I even ask?” Harry rolled his eyes at the back of his father when he had turned back to his pan. “Why don’t you do some cooking classes?”

“Harry! If you want to eat something that I can’t cook you might have to do some cooking classes yourself!” his father turned around once again facing his son. His oldest son. He watched him sitting there, at the table on his favourite place next to the window, legs stretched out and crossed, his hands behind his head with the dark brown hair smirking at him and his inability to cook something more than pancakes, sausages or steaks.

“How will Brian be looking now?” Five years had passed since he and his wife divorced. Jackie. Brian. God he missed them. Every day.

Harold turned back to the pan.
“Dad? You know I was just kidding? I love your pancakes!” Harry had noticed his fathers eyes narrows while he looked at him.

“Yeah I know.”



“Brian? Come eat. Lunch is ready!” Jackie called from the kitchen towards the door of her sons room.

“Brian!” still no response from the boy.

Jackie set the last plate down to the small kitchen table wondering what took Brian so long to obey.

She knocked softly at his door and opened it slightly when she got no response.

What she saw made her smile. Brian laid on his bed fast asleep. Some of his blond hair hat fallen to his face. Carefully she sat down and brushed the strand away eying her sons lovely face. He was cute. Sure, she was his mother. But even when she looked at Brian though the eyes of a woman, she knew he would be a handsome man someday. Just like his father had.

Silently Jackie stood up and left her son sleeping to his bed. The pancakes she had prepared for lunch would have to wait.