As the day progresses, the bright blue sky dims as the sun begins to set. Time passes by in a flash, and by the time Claude pulls over to the driveway, the sun has already set, replaced by a luminous crescent moon that has risen to take its place.
It took Claude a dozen trips to various different stores across the entire city to find the groceries he needed to bring back. So, most of his time on the job was spent inside of the car, driving across the entire city just to find one item. Though it was draining, Claude got to see some parts of Chicago in person.
After Claude parks the car, he turns off the engine and opens the trunk. As the trunk door swings up, it exposes the dozen plastic bags filled with various items sitting in the back. Claude grabs 4 of these bags, 2 in each hand, and walks towards the front door.
As he enters the house, his ears catch a strange mumbling sound, echoing throughout the halls of the home. It was sharp enough to be identified as a woman's voice, not belonging to his mother or aunt, but muffled just enough for the contents that were spewed out to be fuzzy and unintelligible.
Claude quickly deduced that the sound originated from the TV, which was currently being occupied by his mother or aunt, or maybe both. They might have turned it on while they were waiting for him to get back home.
Regardless of the reason, Claude shrugged it off and made his way to the kitchen. There, he places the bags on the kitchen counter before heading back to the car. He grabs another 4 bags and repeats the trip until the trunk is emptied.
Once all the bags have been unloaded from the trunk and placed on the kitchen countertop, Claude heads to the TV room to find his aunt to tell the news. Just as suspected, she was sitting on the couch with her eyes glued to the TV. Claude finds his mother there too, sitting right beside his aunt on the plush sofa.
"Hey, I am home," Claude speaks out, trying his best to grab their attention. His mother immediately turns her head the moment she recognizes her son's voice.
"You are back!" she replies.
"Where were you? Why didn't you take my calls?" She inquires her son with a very authoritative tone, one she often used to grill him for answers when he was a kid.
"What calls?" a clueless Claude responds without a second thought, unaware that she had made any calls at all. Bella gasps in response, before quickly frowning in anger.
"What do you mean, what calls?" she snaps.
"I called you 37 times, and you didn't answer a single one! What is wrong with you?" She yells at Claude for his unacceptable behavior.
"I was driving all over the city to find the stuff on the list. My phone was on Do Not Disturb," Claude answered calmly, trying to defend himself while being respectful to his mother.
"Oh what, you expect me to believe you didn't use your phone every now and then?" she queried, skeptical of his excuse.
"I used the car's GPS. I didn't need to," he replies, still keeping that calm tone.
"Well, you should have checked anyway, and you should have answered," Bella asserts. Claude blood started to warm up.
"And what, get yelled at for being distracted while driving?" Claude retorts, his anger slightly seeping up to the surface.
"Don't you dare talk back to me like that! Did you have any idea how worried I was?" Bella talks back before quickly softening her tone.
"Here I was, wondering whether my son got into an accident or, worse, been killed by some thugs on the street! And here you are, yelling at me for worrying about you!" His mother claims.
"Have you no sympathy, Claude? Have you no sympathy for the mother who loves and cares for you?" She questions her son, acting as if she were the victim here.
"Alright. Alright. I get it! I am sorry! I'll try to call next time," Claude apologizes, quickly caving in. He was unwilling to spend any more energy arguing with his mother, especially when his body felt a lingering sense of drowsiness beginning to set in. He then turns to his aunt, whose eyes were still glued to the TV.
"Hey aunt, I brought all the stuff you wanted. It's in the kitchen," Claude informs his aunt. Carrol finally moves her eyes away from the TV and throws a glance at Claude.
"Everything?" Claude nods to her question.
"Yes, everything," he adds.
"Aw. Thanks, Claude. I appreciate it," she thanks him with a warm smile, greatly contrasting his mother's reaction when he talked to her. Carrol was glad that she didn't have to take those extensive trips around the city herself. Instead, she got to sit around in her home office all day, do some work, and then relax for the rest of the day.
"Say, what did you get for yourself? I hope it isn't too expensive," she asks her nephew, curious to know how much he had spent on himself.
"Nothing, actually," Claude shrugs his shoulders and replies truthfully. His aunt Carrol raises her eyebrows in surprise.
"Really? Nothing?" She repeats.
"Why?" Carrol asks, confused as to why he didn't when he was given explicit permission to be able to.
"I don't know. The stores didn't have anything I wanted, I guess. Plus, I didn't feel that comfortable getting something for myself on your dime," he answered Carrol's answer truthfully. She leans back on her couch, and thinks.
"Hm, alright then," she speaks up after a brief pause. She then stands up and turns to Claude.
"Wait here. I'll get you something," she instructs, before leaving the room. Claude and Bella are now all alone, at least for the time being.
"Hey, I think you might want to sit down until she comes," Bella spoke up in a soothing voice.
"No, I am good," Claude politely declines.
"Sit," she lowers her voice and speaks again. Sensing that he didn't have much of a choice, Claude reluctantly complied.
"Claude," she switches back to her soft tone again, trying to get him to listen.
"I know that I might be a little too much sometimes, but I can't help it. I was so worried for you when you didn't answer your phone. That's why I am doing this," she asserts with that comforting tone, trying to get Claude to accept it.
"I don't want you to be like those other boys, like those who risk their lives for nothing! Like those kids who joined the army to fight the demons in Houston and New York," she continues.
"Wait, wait. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on," Claude interjects.
"Houston? Did you say Houston?" he inquires.
"Yes, Houston. Didn't you hear the news on the car radio?" she asks.
"Ma, you know I don't use the radio. I always keep it off," Claude responds.
"Oh. Well, um, there have been reports of two new portals opening up in Los Angeles and Houston. They opened up around 10 minutes ago," Bella explains, filling him in on the current news cycle.
"Since when?" he inquires, wanting to know more.
"I just told you; 10 minutes ago! Jesus, were you not listening?" She snaps back in anger, scolding her son for asking a little stupid question.
"Calm down, sis. He's probably tired after all that driving. Give him a break," Carrol jumps in, defending Claude. She had finally returned to them after being gone for a few minutes. She sits down right next to Claude and hands him a dozen hundred-dollar bills as a reward for getting the groceries for her.
"Here's your compensation for the job, Claude. You did well," she states as she hands him the money.
"Oh wow. Thanks Aunt. How much is in here?" Claude takes the money, and starts immediately counting.
"There should be twelve hundred in there. Enjoy it. You deserve it," she answers. Claude smiles and looks at her.
"Thanks, Aunt. I appreciate it," he says, before sliding the money into his pocket. He then glanced at Bella, who was still watching him closely, and then at Carrol, who had already shifted her attention back to the TV. He realizes that there was nothing left to say.
"Alright. I got to go take a shower now," he mutters, getting up from his seat.
"Before I go, when can I expect dinner to be ready?"
"Dinner should be ready at around 8," Carrol answers.
"We were waiting for you before we could get started," She adds.
"Alright, thank you. I'll be there," Claude responds before walking right out of the room.
He quickly heads upstairs and makes a short trip to his room. There, he opens his closet and picks out two articles of clothing to change into afterwards. Once he is done, he grabs a fresh new towel and heads to the nearby bathroom.
Once he locks the door, he takes off his clothes and enters the shower. Upon turning the shower handle over, cool water starts pouring out of the showerhead and hits his body. It makes contact with his hair before quickly making its way down his body.
The cold water rejuvenates his senses, as his nerves are hit with a cascade of stimulation all over his body. His mind begins to clear, and he is able to process all that happened throughout the day. He first thinks back to all the driving he did today, just to get to all these different stores around the city to find all the items on the grocery list.
He did a lot today. Some of them were memorable, while other parts were boring. He liked looking around the city of Chicago but hated having to search through all those empty stores.
But the event that stuck out to Claude the most was the interaction he had with that military recruiter earlier today. Their conversation had them exchange personal information about themselves, as well as the trade of unsolicited but necessary advice.
William had diagnosed the excessive fear and cowardice within Claude's personality as stemming from something external. His remedy to this problem was to locate the source feeding this fear and sever it from his life. Though Claude was skeptical of William's solution, he was willing to give it a try.
He starts skimming through all his memories, dating all the way back to his early childhood, to find the culprit William had outlined. At first, Claude couldn't find anything that was wrong. On paper, he had a wonderful childhood. He had a loving mother who took care of every one of his needs and a social circle filled with like-minded people with shared interests.
But as he dug deeper into his childhood memories, a strange pattern began to emerge. He noticed that these people, the same ones that he had surrounded himself with his entire life, exhibited excess traits of fear and cowardice. That when a seemingly insurmountable object appeared before them, they preferred to retreat to the comfort of a strong guardian.
The constant exposure to these types of behaviors over the years might have influenced him and essentially enabled him to become an artificial part of his personality. It was like an excessive cancer cell that had somehow tricked the body to believe that it was meant to be there. It was a compelling theory, one that explained his current behavior.
"No. No, that's ridiculous. I am just trying to put the blame on everyone else. It's not their fault. It's mine," he told himself. But no matter how hard he tried to bury the thought; it refused to leave. It lingered at the edges of his mind, a quiet, persistent whisper, nudging him to think about it—just a little more—before casting it aside.