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    quokka
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Uncertain Future - 2. UF Chapter 2

When I arrived at home with Toby and the groceries, it was almost 6pm, so I quickly put the groceries away, I got Toby into the shower and into his pyjamas, just as Mum walked into the apartment. Seeing and smelling no dinner being ready, she dumped her brief case and headed straight to the kitchen, where she quickly started to prepare a simple dinner, of tuna & pasta bake.

While Mum was preparing dinner, Toby played in the lounge and I began doing homework. After a while Mum asked how my day was and I informed her that it was best if she didn't know apart from having to work two hours at the store this morning, along with a further two and a half hours after school, including closing up the store again as Mr Schwartz is still not well enough to work, and that was why I was home late having contacted Mrs Denning to let her also know.

My mum smiled and said that I was turning into a very responsible young man, and that she loved me very much, “and I do you love me that much too?" Toby asked and both mum and I laughed before mum went to Toby and giving him a big hug, she said she loved both of her son's very much. I had completed my homework by the time dinner was ready, and I retired to my room after helping clean the dishes. The next morning, I had another early start at the shop, and Mrs Jorgen arrived when it was time for me to head off to school, Mr Schwartz was once again in the lounge room, and he was looking a lot better this morning.

At school, when I arrived and was surprised to see that there was no sign of Natasha or Mitch waiting for me as I was expecting, and when I arrived at my locker, I found a note inside, "Wes, we are both sorry for blaming you for last Sunday, we know now from what Nicole told us that you couldn't make it, and I am terribly sorry for punching you yesterday, please forgive me, Natasha. P.S. We are still keen on going on a ride, but not this Sunday as we are both away for the first week of holidays, please let me know if we can join you in a ride soon."

I was glad that I had received an apology, but I was still not happy with them, and I decided to avoid them for the rest of the week, and then I could have a whole week to think about it, so I remained sitting at the back of the class away from Mitch and Natasha, and I spent my morning and lunch breaks staying out of sight away from them. At the end of the school day I rushed off to get to work as soon as possible, and after I picked up Toby from Mrs Denning’s. When I arrived home from school and work on Friday, I was glad that I wouldn't be seeing anyone from school for a whole week at least, but I still had a busy week ahead with work.

Mr Schwartz had asked me to work from 7am till 11am and 2pm to 4pm on week days and normal hours on Saturdays during the school holidays, which I happily agreed to so I went to work as normal the following day, dropping off Toby at Mrs Denning's, and I arrived at the shop to see that it was not open, so I went around to the back, where I found Mrs Jorgen sitting outside in the yard and it looked like she had been crying. "Oh good, you’ve arrived young Wes. Mr Schwartz is really ill and an ambulance took him to hospital over an hour ago, when I went to bring him his breakfast he was gasping for air.

Here are the shop keys, I need to go to the hospital to see how he is going, and I will let you know as soon as I hear any news," she said and dashed off. I opened up the back door and made my way to the office, where I called Mum to let her know what was happening and that I would be at the shop all day, and she was pleased that I was helping Mr Schwartz, by keeping the store running.

Ten minutes later I had the store open, and customers started coming in asking why the store was late open, and if Mr Schwartz was ok. By the end of the day, I was once again exhausted, Mrs Jorgen had telephoned to let me know that Mr Schwartz was resting comfortably, and had asked if I minded running the store till he returns. Once again, I slept in due to the long day yesterday, but this time I was not worried about missing an arranged meeting with Natasha and Mitch. Mum had left a note to say she had taken Toby to work with her, and that she would be home at about 4pm. After making myself some brunch, I packed my backpack with water and snacks as I decided that I needed to go for a ride to get out of town and enjoy some of the fresh open air, and I returned home at about the same time as Mum and Toby shortly after 4pm feeling a lot happier. For the next six days, I was at the store each morning at 6am, and I didn’t need to worry about Toby as Mum had made arrangements with Mrs Denning, once I had opened the store and served the first few early morning regular customers, I received an update phone call from Mrs Jorgen, to let me know how Mr Schwartz was recovering.

By the time I arrived home at 6pm, I was exhausted, but mum had dinner ready for me, and afterwards I would read a short story to Toby before I headed to bed, at the end of the week, Mrs Jorgen informed me that Mr Schwartz would be remaining in hospital for a longer period, as he had suffered a stroke over night. She informed me that she had been in contact with Mr Schwartz’s lawyer, and they had instructed me to continue running the store for another week, but not to order any new stock, until it was determined if he would recover or not.

On Thursday afternoon, just half an hour before closing the shop for the day, a gentleman in a suit walked in, and he had a good look around the store before he approached me at the counter, where I was busy doing a stock-take of all remaining items ion the store. “Mr Wesley Devonport, I presume” he asked, and I looked up and smiled before saying, “Well I’m definitely not Sherlock Holmes”, and the gentleman laughed at my little joke, before he stretched out his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Sherlock, I mean Wesley, my name is definitely not Watson, it’s actually David Fythe, I’m the lawyer representing Mr Alfred Schwartz. I’m sorry to inform you that Mr Schwartz passed away in late hours of last night”.

I began to cry, and the lawyer turned and put the “Store Closed” sign up and locked the shop door, before returning to the counter where I was trying to recover from the shock of the news. “I have asked Mrs Jorgen to come by shortly to help us to close down the store, I see you have a started a stock-take, which is great news, as it will speed the process up” the lawyer said to me. When Mrs Jorgen arrived, we worked out how much stock was perishable, and I began callings some independent stores, informing them of Mr Schwartz death, and ask them if they are interested in buying any remaining stock at 7% above cost price, which they accepted.

When I arrived home that evening, I began crying again as I broke the news to Mum of Mr Schwartz death; and that the lawyer was helping me and Mrs Jorgen to sell all remaining stock to local independent stores, and that night I had great difficulties sleeping. The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed at the usual time, and after showering and eating, I made my way to the store, where I was busy packing away all the stock into boxes ready to be taken away. By 1pm that afternoon all of the stock had gone, leaving a very empty shop. A sign had been placed in the windows – “Due to the death of the owner, this store is now closed”.

When Mrs Jorgen headed home, leaving just me and Mr Fythe remaining, we went into the office to discuss what to do with all the administration of the store, this is when Mr Fythe pulled out a folder from his brief case, and he read out the terms of the will of the late Mr Albert Schwartz. To my total shock, he had no family and everything had been left to me, that being the little car parked in the back yard, the building that contains the shop and the two-bedroom apartment upstairs, plus the two bank accounts, one his personal account containing $3,372, and the shop account containing $9,927.

There is no mortgage or debts to worry about and all council, water and rates where up to date. Mr Fythe said that after a quick look at the books, he could see they were all in order, and said that I was to withdraw my earnings for the remainder of the week, as it is usually done, before it is all finalised. When I deposited my last pay into my bank account, I had a total of $22,150 which more than double of what Mr Schwartz had in total, the following day Mr Fythe had organised for the sale of all the fridges and freezers, the cash register and any other items that could be sold. Mrs Jorgen had washed all of Mr Schwartz clothes, which were packed and sent to charity shops, along with his shoes and any other items that could be donated.

By the end of the day the store was totally empty, with just the shelving and the counter remaining, in the office all the documents had been taken away, so there was just the empty desk, chair, book case and the basic computer and printer. In the apartment, all that remained was the basic furniture in each of the rooms, all books, linen, crockery, cutlery and personal items had been donated.

Mr Fythe said to me that there was enough money in Mr Schwartz bank account to cover the rates for a few more years, so there was no rush in deciding what to do with the property, I asked him to arrange for the sale of the car and the proceeds to go into that bank account, and Mr Fythe said he would arrange it. When I arrived home that afternoon, I went to my room and promptly fell asleep from exhaustion, as it had been a very trying last few days, especially with packing up the shop and apartment, and it wasn’t over yet, as there was still the funeral to attend on Monday afternoon.

With the store now closed I no longer had a job, so when Saturday morning came around I woke up to the sound of the door closing with Mum heading to work, so I dragged myself out of bed, had a shower, put on some fresh clothes and started to organise Toby for his day with Mrs Denning. Once we had both eaten, and I had packed Toby’s day bag, we headed downstairs to Mrs Denning’s place. Returning to the unit I had no idea what I would do for the rest of the day, so I called Mr Fythe and asked him if he had a spare hour to come down to the shop to discuss future plans for the building, which he agreed to do. We met an hour later in the back yard, where we sat down on the old outdoor table and chairs.

Out of his suitcase Mr Fythe produced some property plans, which he opened up to allow me to see. I looked them over and said, “I was thinking last night just before falling asleep that the place could be divided into two retail shops, with the front shop, main store, bathroom and staff kitchen as one section. Then the office lounge room, kitchen/dining, laundry and upstairs bedrooms and bathroom as the other section,” I said to Mr Fythe as we looked over the plans, and I saw him nodding as I mentioned my ideas.

“This would be possible with very minimal cost. All you need to do is to place a solid wall in the hallway after the bathroom door, before the office, and there you have it. The front shop has the front door, and back delivery door for access, while the back area has the Office door and the laundry door for access.”

We spent the next hour walking around the outside and inside of the property discussing what needs to be done to get it suitable for leasing, and Mr Fythe wrote down each item. Once that was done we said goodbye, I locked up the building and I headed back home, pleased that I had achieved something. For all of Sunday I just stayed in my room except for meals, as I was in no mood to be sociable, a number of times I heard Toby asking Mum if he could see me, but mum explained that I was very sad at the moment, as close friend had died, and gone to heaven, and that maybe tomorrow he can read to him.

Two days later, after having delivered Toby to Mrs Denning, I went back home to relax, as I was in no mood for classes, with a funeral to attend at 2pm. I had sent a text message to the school - “Wesley A Devonport will not be attending school today, due to him attending a Funeral today”, and about twenty minutes later I received a return message from the school - “Thanks for letting us know, Condolences on your loss of family or friend, if Wes doesn't feel up to it, he can have tomorrow off too.” I was surprised by this offer and smiled, pleased to have two days off school.

By 1pm I was showered and dressed in my only suit, which I purchased from a charity shop, along with a tie, and when I felt I was ready, I heard the toot of a car, which I was expecting, as Mr Fythe was collecting me and looking after me for the service and the wake afterwards. I had written a short speech to read out if I was asked to speak. Mr Fythe suggested that I prepare one just in case, so I wrote about how kind he was to all of his customers, always willing to add an extra packet of some kind to the grocery bags that were to be delivered, as well as a few humorous times while I was serving at the counter.

When we arrived at the Presbyterian Church, the same one that Mitch attends, there was a huge crowd there, a lot more than I expected, and a lot more than what would fit into the church which has a total of 150 seats. Spaces had been reserved for Mr Fythe and myself, right at the front, and an usher directed us to our seats. Just when I thought the service was about to start, a side door opened, and out came a large group of members of the choir, and one of those was Mitch, who spotted me in the front row, and he nodded his head gently to indicate he saw me.

Next the minister came out and indicated for us to stand, as the coffin was brought forward, as soon as I saw it I started to quietly cry, and Mr Fythe put his arm around my shoulders in comfort and support, When I looked up and looked around, I noticed Mitch looking at me in shock, and he looked down at his feet again, feeling ashamed for blaming me for being rude to him.

When the service began with a hymn to be sung by everyone I strained my ears to try and hear what Mitch's singing sound like, but with Mr Fythe singing flat, it was just too hard. Nearly an hour later, I was drained out of energy, having delivered the main eulogy, which I was surprised lasted for nearly fifteen minutes, and people briefly laughed at my little bit of humour, and as I said at the end of my little speech, Mr Schwartz treated me very kindly, and he was like a granddad to me in many ways, and I said that I would miss him very much.

When I sat down from the eulogy with tears in my eyes, I was looking down when a single voice started to sing, and when I looked up, it was Mitch who was singing. It was just beautiful as he sung Ave Maria in its entirety on his own. I was deeply moved by his singing that it was impossible to not cry. As Mitch sung his last few notes, he looked directly at me and I mouthed the words “thank you” to him, and he just nodded with a hint of a smile as he finished the song and sat down.

When the service was completed, Mr Fythe led me out of the church, and everything was just a blur as we climbed into the car and drove to the cemetery for the final internment part of the funeral, which I was battling to cope with. I remember very little of it, just when I bent down and picked up a handful of dirt and holding my hand above the grave I slowly let the dirt flow out of my hands.

I was not coping very well, so Mr Fythe took me home before he went to the wake, promising to call later to check on me, but as I entered my home, Toby and Mum were there and wrapped me in a big hug of comfort, which was just want I needed. Mum made me eat a little bit of food, before I retreated to my room, changing out of my good clothes, and climbing into bed. For the next few days I stayed at home, feeling totally miserable, Mum made sure that Toby was looked after by Mrs Denning, while she was at work, and she came to my room to bring some dinner, which I ate a little bit of before giving up, and putting the plate aside. On the Friday afternoon, shortly before 4 pm, there was a knock on my bedroom door, and it was Mrs Denning with Toby, she informed me that there are three very concerned school friends down stairs, who want to come and visit me, since I hadn't been to school all week.

She mentioned that she had received a call from my mum, to say that she had been called by the school counsellor, to see if I was alright, as the teachers and some students had expressed concern for my welfare, especially after one student informed the school that he had seen me at the funeral on Monday afternoon, and that I had not dealt with the situation very well.

I said that I wasn't up for having visitors, and asked Mr Denning to ask them not to come back, before I slowly closed the door and returned to my room. When Mum returned at the end of the day she came storming into my room demanding to know why I had made Toby cry for the past two hours, and that poor Mrs Denning was not able to settle him down once he had started, and that eventually he cried himself to sleep just before she’d arrived. I screamed for her to get out of my room, and she remained where she stood even more furious at me for shouting at her, which probably the first time ever that I had done that.

When she saw me bury my head under the pillow and blankets, she stormed out of the room, making sure not to slam the door as Toby had just got back to sleep again, and I lay there for some time listening to my mum talking to someone on the phone, and I heard the words counselling and maybe shock therapy, which I did not like the sound of at all. I must have drifted to sleep soon after that, as next time I woke it was dark and very quiet. Looking at my bedside clock, it read 3:18am and I thought about what I had heard mum saying in the telephone conversation earlier, and decided that I didn't want any part of that.

So, I grabbed my hiking back pack, and grabbed three sets of clothes, my two pairs of casual shoes and thongs, my sleeping bag, small dome tent, my camping-mattress, and torch, which mum was unaware that I had purchased about a month ago, as I was planning to do some more long-distance bike riding, also my bank book, birth certificate, wallet and keys to the shop. Very quietly I left the house with my bike and I rode to the shop at a steady pace, not really concerned about how long it would take me, once inside.

I place the bike in the small store room, and locked the door, before entering the residence part of the shop, and locking the door behind me, I made my way upstairs, to the rear bedroom, which still has a bed, and mattress, bedside table in it and I laid out my sleeping bag on the bed, climbed in and went to sleep. When I woke up next, it was daylight, and I could hear the sound of vehicle and pedestrian traffic in the streets surrounding the shop, which is on a corner block, and I lay there for a while just listening to the sounds, it just sounded like a normal week day and I was too tired to do anything, but had an urgent need to use the bathroom, so I dragged myself out of bed to go to the bathroom, stopping for a moment to get my directions to the semi unfamiliar surroundings.

Back in bed I just dozed on and off for the remainder of the day, sometimes laying on the bed wondering about my uncertain future. Eventually sometime during the day I decided that I needed to get out of town, and go somewhere where I was not known. When I woke up again after it was dark, my small cheap watch told me that it was just after 8:20pm, and I quickly jumped up feeling the strain of the past week of just laying around, stiff and sore. I jumped into the shower, not worrying about it being icy cold.

Once I was feeling refreshed and dressed in new clothes, I packed up all of my belonging into my back pack and went down stairs, leaving the residence door unlocked I went to the store room, and retrieved my bike, leaving the store room door slightly open I stepped outside locked up the main door, and jumping on my bike I started heading toward the middle of town, not sure where I was going. As I approached the railway station, I stopped at the main platform, and looked at the train time table. “Train to the City – departing at 9:05pm, arriving at 10:25pm.” I decided then that this was my destination, and I sat on the chair and waited the ten minutes before the train arrived.

The train came to a stop, and a few people stepped off, I kept my head down in case someone might have recognised me, and once they were all gone, the train guard approached me and asked if I have a ticket. I told him that I didn't and I didn't have any cash on hand, just an Eftpos card, and that I was on my way to the city to see my Grandpa. The guard mentioned that there was an Eftpos machine in the cafe' on the train, and that I could purchase a ticket from there. He helped me to bring the bike on and store it in the luggage area.

Once I had found a seat, I sat back and was eventually rocked to sleep with the steady motion of the train travelling through the countryside. I woke up when I felt the train slowing down, and it took me a moment to remember where I was before I straightened up in the seat and waited for the train to stop at the city station platform, where the train guard helped me with my bike. I thanked him and wished him a good night, as I walked down the platform with my bike, towards the exit. I had no idea where I was going or where I was going to spend the night. It was the first time I had been in the city, and I was amazed at the size of some of the buildings as I slowly rode through the streets until I suddenly felt very tired.

Copyright October 2015 Preston Wigglesworth All Rights Reserved
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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My first impression was that the chapter felt a little rushed. Wes is a kid who spent his teen years helping his family and making few if any real friends. The sudden loss of a supportive adult on his life must have been devastating. The chapter had me there. Concern would happen after a week of Wes' behavior. Counseling would be an expected suggestion. Where I feel rushed is his mom's reaction. It felt a little over reactive.  I understand that Toby doesn't understand and is upset but going in and yelling at Wes was never going to help. Wes running away wasn't good but he isn't in the right frame of mind to think through every thing he is doing.

 

I feel bad for Toby, poor kid just wants to be with his brother.  I know most of this gets us to the new beginning part but rushing the story will lose some people. I look forward to the next chapter. 

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