Renaissance Man - Part 1

Scene 06 _ Breakfast with Nessie

Scene 06 Rev G

Scene 06 “Breakfast with Nessie”

Torey Campbell – Protagonist
Nessie Campbell – Torey’s mother

         Coffee's cold.
         Nessie sipped her cold coffee as she idly watched Mrs. Bernardo, her neighbor across the alley, making breakfast. Nessie had dutifully made breakfast and a lunch for Brodey and seen him off to work. Hardly a word was spoken this morning. She also made a lunch for Torey and now waited for him to come downstairs. Sitting at her kitchen table in her nightgown and robe, the view out her back-door window was unobstructed – just a short distance across her back porch, her yard, the shared alley, then the neighbor's yard and porch. Thirty yards at the most.
         Nessie was a small woman, almost frail. Just a shade over five feet tall and 100 pounds, today her long stringy reddish blonde hair was disheveled — unusual for her for she was quite proper. Nessie always deferred to Brodey, that’s how she was raised. But last night’s attack on her son brought out her ‘mother lion’ in a way rarely seen in this household. Brodey had been careful to avoid further confrontation with her as he ate his breakfast.
         Her hand, in the pocket of her robe, tumbled the folded bills Brodey had given her before he left for work. At first, she didn't notice the extra twenty-dollar bill. She counted twice. Yes, there was the forty Brodey promised plus an extra twenty. He hadn't said a word. Did he miscount? I sure doubt that. Is this twenty to replace the twenty I offered or do I now have eighty to work with?
         Morning noises upstairs told Nessie that Torey would be down shortly. She moved from table to stove and lit two of the four gas burners – one under the now cold pot of coffee, the other under a frying pan with three bacon strips. Quickly the room filled with breakfast smells and the sound of bacon frying in the skillet.
         "Mornin' Mom." Torey loved this kitchen. The white and yellow color pattern on the cabinets, the yellow Formica table with double chrome legs, and yellow vinyl chairs, were home to Torey. He didn't think the yellow was overdone or garish. Truth be told, he never thought about it nor would he know the meaning of the word "garish" if he was ever asked. After his bedroom, the kitchen was his favorite room; especially when it was filled with breakfast smells as it was now.
         Nessie straightened up, wiped away her tears, and put on her game face. That wasn't going to work this morning. She had been crying most of the night, and her tearful red eyes couldn't be hidden by wipes of her hand. She tried to engage Torey without looking at him.
         "Good morning son,” she said cheerily, “Breakfast is just about ready."
         "Thanks Mom," Torey replied, making no attempt to hide his grumpy mood. Torey was now fully into the room. They looked at each other, both slightly startled. Torey at his mother's red eyes; Nessie at the highly polished black church shoes protruding from under the legs of Torey's jeans.
         Nessie spoke first, "Torey … about last night."
         But Torey quickly broke in, "Mom … It's not your fault. Why is Dad so mean? Does he hate us?"
         He remained quiet, allowing Nessie to answer. "No Torey, he doesn't hate us. He grew up with nothing, and he is afraid that what we have can be taken away at any time."
         "How? By who?" Torey asked, a tone of exasperation in his voice.
         "He talks big about his factory job, but it really isn't that big a job, and he is afraid he could lose it any day. His skill is a dying skill, and if that job goes away, he has nothing to offer the job market here in Allerford."
         "But Mom … I'm not asking for a fancy car or expensive jewelry. I'm just asking for two pairs of shoes."
         "I know that Torey. Here's your breakfast." Nessie slid the plate in front of him, and resumed her seat.
         No matter his mood, a teenage boy needs to eat. Torey began devouring the eggs, bacon, toast, and juice Nessie had put before him. After a few bites, he continued. "It's one thing if we can't afford it, but he talks like I'm some bum trying to steal his money. Why does there have to be so much anger and disrespect? I'm his son! Why is everything so hard?"
         "That's just his way," Nessie said, weakly trying to defend her husband.
         After a long pause, Torey picked up again. "I have to get a job or something. I'm only thirteen years old. Going through high school having a big family fight every time I need some little thing — I can't do it, Mom!"
         He's right, she thought, idly running her index finger around the rim of her coffee cup.
         "Mom. You said you would give me twenty dollars from your stash. How can you possibly have a stash? He watches you like a hawk and makes you fight for every nickel.”
         "It's hard, Torey, but I manage a little here and there."
         This perplexed Torey. It must have taken years to stash twenty bucks – nickels and dimes at a time. I shouldn’t take that money … but I need shoes!
         Torey returned his attention to his breakfast. After the last few bites, he spoke again. "Mom, today is Thursday. Tomorrow is my next soccer practice. I'll ask coach about places to buy soccer shoes and prices. Then Saturday, I'll go shoe shopping."
         "I think that will be fine, Torey."
         "Can't wear these shoes for very long, or soon I'll have no church shoes. Besides, I'll get laughed out of school," he replied.
         Nessie smiled. "Yes. You do look kind of silly."
         Torey pushed back his chair and got up. "Okay. I have to go. Today is my first science class. I never had science before. I think I'll like it."
         "I'm sure you will. Your lunch is on the counter."
         "Thanks, Mom. Love you. Bye," Torey said, as he gave Nessie a hug, grabbed his lunch bag, and headed out the door.
         "Have a nice day. Love you too."
         Nessie cleared the dishes, then warmed her coffee from the now hot pot. The aroma filled the small kitchen. Returning to her chair, sipping her coffee, she reflected on the shoe dilemma.
         I’m sure he can get a decent pair of school shoes for fifty dollars, but I know nothing about soccer shoes. Will he have enough? And oh yes, there will be sales tax.
         After a bit, she headed upstairs to dress for the day. This will be a learning experience for Torey. How do I tell him about the extra twenty?

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Word Count: 1,119
Readability Consensus (based on 8 readability formulas)
         Grade Level: 4
         Reading Level: easy to read.
         Reader's Age: 8-9 yrs. old (Fourth and Fifth graders)