Love & Cherish

Edward Love sat in the back seat of the car, shaking uncontrollably. His breathing was erratic, and his chest was tight with fear. The car’s motion and every bump on the road made him nauseous. The tightness of his blindfold was painful. The sound of the two security men talking and laughing as they drove him away from his home made him want to scream, but he remained silent, fearing reprisals. He was terrified of what the coming month would hold for him; he truly believed he wouldn’t survive. As he tried to slide his finger under the blindfold to relieve some pressure, his thoughts drifted to earlier in the evening when his parents summoned him and his brother to their office.

The two tall, dark-haired figures of nineteen-year-old Edward and his eighteen-year-old brother, Peter, stood in the dimly lit hallway, waiting for their father to call them in.

“What do you think father wants us for?” Edward quietly asked, uneasily rubbing his forehead.

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, “you’ve probably done something wrong again,” he grinned.

Edward shuddered. He always believed he was to blame if something went wrong in the house. Whenever their father screamed and shouted at them, he always looked at him.

“Enter,” their father gruffly called.

Edward took a deep breath as he and Peter entered the office. Their overweight, grey-haired father, Arthur, sat in his black leather chair at the dark wood desk, glaring at them. The thin, dark-haired figure of their mother, Patricia, stood beside him, looking at the ground.

“I guess you are wondering what I have called you here for,” their father growled.

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison and nodding.

Arthur Love leaned toward his desk and rested his arms on it. “In all my years, I have never known two people so ungrateful and lazy. I have paid for your education, clothed you, fed you, and what have I had in return?” he paused, balling his fists. “NOTHING!” he bellowed, banging his fists on the desk. Edward and Peter stepped back in fright, quickly composed themselves, and stood straight. Their father slyly chuckled, looking from one son to the other. “So, now I want you two useless good-for-nothings to prove to me that you are worthy of being named in my will.”

Edward glanced at his mother, who still wasn’t looking at them.

“Edward!” Arthur snapped. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, sir,” Edward mumbled, turning to face him.

Arthur opened the desk drawer, reached inside, and took out a small pile of twenty-pound notes. “At six this evening, you will both be blindfolded, driven to different locations, and left to survive on your own for one month,” he paused, placing the money into two piles on the desk. “There is one hundred pounds each for you, and you can thank your mother for it. If it were left up to me, you would be leaving here with nothing!” he growled. “And when you leave this house, do not contact me, your mother, or anyone for help. If you run out of money and are hungry, you will have to find work. If you’re cold and tired, find a doorway to sleep in. I don’t care what you do to survive. Steal if you have to, but we won’t bail you out if you get caught. Then, in one month, you will be picked up from the location you were left and return home.

Both boys gasped in disbelief and looked towards their mother. Their father had said it was her idea for them to have money. If she had found it in her heart to suggest that, they hoped she would defend them to stop this madness, but she still wouldn’t look at them.

Edward began to shake with nerves. “Mom, why are you allowing this to happen?” he asked.

His mother didn’t answer.

Arthur closed the desk drawer and stood. “This will teach you a life lesson and maybe make you appreciate what I have done for you,” he smirked, “and boys, before you leave, there’s one more thing: don’t tell anyone who you are. Your surname isn’t Love, it’s Smith. This arrangement is just between us; it’s not for the world to read about in grubby newspapers.”

In disbelief, Edward slowly shook his head as he watched Peter grab his money off the desk and run out of the office. He jumped a little at the door banging shut behind him; he could hear Peter thundering up the stairs. Edward glanced at the clock on the wall; it was five thirty pm. He glared at his father as he slid his one hundred pounds off the desk. He knew his father wasn’t bothered about his son’s; he was only worried about people finding out how evil he was. Sighing deeply, he glanced at his mother, who was still looking at the floor; he knew why she had suggested giving him and his brother money. It was to try to soften them to stay quiet; he knew she, too, would worry about people finding out how she treated her children. Edward turned to walk away and paused; he breathed deeply and exhaled. “You may have provided for us, but I would have swapped all of that for just one bit of affection,” he said, looking at his mother, “are you seriously going to do this to us?” he asked, watching his mother walk across the office without making eye contact with him.

Edward’s heart sank as he watched his mother exit the office. Their mother always stood by their father. No matter the misery Arthur Love inflicted on his children. Edward had often wondered why Arthur and Patricia had bothered to have children. Their surname may have been Love, but they weren’t loving parents.

In all their lives, Edward and Peter had never felt loved.

When Edward and Peter were old enough to attend school, they were sent to live in different boarding schools. When it was term breaks, they would return home and were made to stay out of the way in their rooms. Their parents had no interest in them; they only cared about their social life, and that they looked like the perfect couple. Their parents only showed interest in them when their guests brought their children. Edward and Peter were then used as showpieces to make Arthur and Patricia look like doting parents.

Edward and Peter had lived an unhappy, lonely life, and they had no bond. They may have been brothers, but they were strangers.

Edward’s head was spinning as he exited the office; he’d never had an allowance from his parents, so he had no idea about the value of money. He also hadn’t a clue about how to look after himself. Gripping the banister as he walked up the stairs, he wondered what he should take with him. It was winter, and it was cold outside. Suddenly, survival mode kicked in. Edward rushed up the stairs to his bedroom to find his winter coat. He prayed that he still had his old school rucksack to pack as many warm clothes as possible.

…………

Peter’s cries for help and begging the security men not to take him away echoed in Edward’s head; he was worried for his brother and wondered if he would ever see him again. Slipping his hand into his thick winter coat to check if his money was still in his pocket, it was. He divided the one hundred pounds by the days in November and figured he would have three pounds thirty-three pence a day to live on. Surely that was possible to do.

Wrapping an arm around his old school rucksack, he held it tightly. He’d managed to pack a few pairs of socks, underwear, a couple of t-shirts and jumpers, a toothbrush and toothpaste, some deodorant, and body wash; he planned on using public toilets to wash in. Shaking with nerves, he rested his head on the back of the seat and puffed his cheeks; confusion had set in. He didn’t know how long they had been driving for; it could have been an hour, maybe it was two, but he didn’t know. It felt like forever. Tears welled in his eyes; he knew his parents were cruel and unkind, but never in a million years did he think that they would put him and his brother in such a situation.

The car came to a halt. He gripped his rucksack tighter, scared his father’s security men would take it off him. He heard the front passenger car door open and then felt the cold winter breeze when his door opened. “Get out,” he heard the security man, Graham, say. Edward stepped out of the car and shuddered. Graham untied the blindfold and removed it. Edward blinked hard to clear his vision. Gentle snow fell around him as he looked up and down the street with a few people dressed in warm coats and huddled into woolly scarves, protecting them from the cold winter breeze. “Where am I?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter where you are,” Graham huffed, “you need to meet me here on the first of December so I can take you home,” he ordered, glancing at his watch. “If you’re not here for nine pm, I’ll leave without you,” he grinned, sliding back into the car and shutting the door.

“Hey!” Edward called, banging the back of the car with his fist, “I haven’t got a watch!” he cried, watching the black Mercedes driving away. Pulling his coat hood over his head, he swung his rucksack over his shoulder and watched the car drive to the bottom of the road and turn left. Already feeling the cold winter air stinging his face, he pulled his scarf up, rested it on his nose, and slid his hands into his pockets.

Hearing shouting and laughing in the distance, he glanced up the road and saw several youths walking towards him. Not feeling safe and wanting to avoid them, he quickly walked across the road and down an alley between the shops.

Edward sat huddled in a dark doorway at the back of the shops, trying to make himself as small as possible. He had never been out alone so late in the night before. He was praying the youths hadn’t seen him. Thoughts of him being mugged flashed through his mind. His heart painfully thudded at the thought. Would he be brave enough to fight them to stop them from taking his money? He doubted he would. He’d never had a fight in his life, not even with his brother.

Beginning to feel the cold of the tiled doorstep through his jeans, Edward sat on the rucksack and blew warm breath into his cupped hands. The sound of a man’s voice and children’s laughter from an open window above the shops caught his attention. Gazing up at the warm lights glowing through the window, he guessed a family lived there. He could hear the happiness coming from the small apartment. Sadness and confusion consumed him; he didn’t understand how a family could be happy living in such a small place. Edward choked a little laugh as he rested against the door; all of his life, he’d lived in a ten-bedroomed three-story mansion and had never been happy. He wondered if working-class families were happier; it sounded like they were.

The sound of noisy youths echoing through the alley broke Edward from his thoughts. Scared of what would happen if the youths came down the alley and saw him, he quickly moved to another doorway closer to the corner and curled behind his rucksack, praying he would be safe for the night.