Cream Crackered(Annie Frame) Cream Crackered.

Jean had always run her home with military fashion. The stance was quite simple; obey rules and regulations or leave. Her controlling ways had lost many a friend, but the biggest loss was her husband who had walked out years ago. Selfishness had led her further down the spiralling path of self centered origin. There was one person that had been unable to escape the clutches of control, her son Marshal. He’d been too young to leave, so had remained under the thumb until recently. Time changes everything, even elements of control and manipulation. The browbeaten look had left his handsome face and been replaced with a look of excitement, anticipation. The first time he mentioned her name Jean winced and immediately tried to poison love in first flight, but failed miserably. Marshals eyes shot to the ceiling as he told her, “Get over it mother. Daphne is coming to tea today with or without your approval.”

Furious and unable to speak Jean watched her son’s manliness turn from her with disgust and leave the room. All afternoon she battled with her conscience. It was a waste of time and energy as she arrived at the same old conclusion. How dare he speak up, have a voice and court a girl that she hadn’t even laid eyes on. Sniffing back indignation she prepared to do battle. Her best tea set would sit pride of place. The one her husband had tiptoed past while she’d glared graphic warnings. The tea would be light and impressive. Daphne would soon see that she was dealing with class that was way above her. Delightfully impressed with her new fangled inspiration Jean began to set the scene.

Marshal remained in his bedroom, as he always did while his mother deliberately tried to close out his softened tone to the female on the other end of the long intimate phone call. Never mind thought Jean, imagining that her one-up-man-ship light tea with numerous put-downs would lighten her load and bring a wayward son back to heel and secured to the apron strings. Finally there was a light tap at the door. Jean’s mouth formed a tightened line that matched the deep furrows in the brow. The cream crackers she had just festooned lay as she made to answer the door. Too late, Marshal had beaten her to it. Jean could only choke back the heavy cloud of aftershave he’d left behind.

In silence she stood by and watched her sons strong arms wrap around his prized possession. Unexpectedly emotion began to surface as did memories of a man she’d loved and lost. Marshal was the image of his father and for seconds she felt like she was staring into the past. A longing to step back in time and reclaim all she’d lost stole the senses. Feeling her husband pull her to him, nestle into her with delight, with nothing but the moment. Marshal’s voice reached her, “This is Daphne!” Jean wanted to react differently, but couldn’t. How could she? To give up control wasn’t an option. It really was that simple.

Daphne’s blue eyes danced with an air of curiosity and the warmth of her aura filled the dire emptiness in the home. Long red hair and petite to the eye, she held no spite of malice, only delightful charm. Jean desperately tried to fight it and reclaim the stiff upper lip that had served her so well. She hurried to finish off her mission and headed to the fancy table decked with everything but diamonds. Daphne looked bemused and chuckled, “Oh you shouldn’t have gone to all this effort Mrs William.” Without any hesitation she sat down and continued to praise the entire set up. Jean could only sit back and absorb that all her intentions were useless. The sadistic intent to cause discomfort and class status hadn’t worked. “Tea?” enquired Jean crisply to which Daphne nodded with enthusiasm while admiring the perfected spread.

Jean tried to sabotage the atmosphere without success. She also tried in vain to dislike the girl her son was looking at with adoration. Like a delightful melody that never leaves, she touched bitterness with ease and Jean felt a familiar emotion finally return. Inner peace settled within as did panic. She couldn’t soften to the vixen and had to hold the fort. Just as she was about to say something condescending and ruin any future relationship she politely bit into a cream cracker she’d smothered with fine cheese dressing. As she did horror descended. Not a hint of crispiness, just a soggy clump dumped on the tongue. The cream crackers were disgusting! Why on earth hadn’t she checked the date? She managed to gulp down the offending mouthful and prepared to defend her corner, but didn’t need to. Daphne had just finished the same, held eye contact and smiled warmly.

Annie Frame Copyright August 2013

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