Silver Fork

In deep| Andrew 🍋

For Ross!!!! (This isn't my best work I swear I can do better)

Outside thunder and lighting rolled across the clouds as the hurricane rattled the window pains.

Andrew sat up, hyper aware at how easily this old beat-up place he called a home could blow away. It was already leaking and falling apart.

He looked at all the clothing you had packed up. It was so bad that water had already begun to flood the shack a bit. It was nothing too alarming, but still, it worried him.

It was times like this where he wished he could provide a better life. The same run down hut of a 'house' that he'd lived in most of his life. Now held the love of his life. How could he call himself a man if there were days where they had to choose between shoes and food? Nights where he was tempted to eat grass because he was so hungry?

"What's wrong?" She asked, sitting up in her old 'wedding dress'. It was nothing more than a,mostly, solid, white gown from the hospital with lace on the ends from an old curtain. Even your ring was nothing more than wood that he'd smoothed out into a thin ring.

"Nothing, go back to bed."

Instead, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Scotting closer to him, she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I forgot to tell you, but I'm picking up more hours at the manor."

"I thought you got rid of one of your off days?"

"I did, but we need the money."

"____, you'll work yourself to death."

"Money is money, Drew."

He sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to change her mind. Laying down, he took her with him. Holding her ring hand up to look at it. Even though he could hardly see anything in the dark.

"One day,I'll get you a proper ring," He promised, "I'll make you happy."

Scotting closer, she laid her head on his chest, "I am happy. I wouldn't be happier anywhere else,It's just a rough patch right now. We'll be ok." She tucked herself into his side. Thin as a stick and shivering from the cold.

Rolling over on his side, Andrew pulled her closer, chin resting on her head.

'We won't live like peasants, I won't allow it.'

He refused to let what happened this his mother happen to her or him. No matter the price.

The following day was spent cleaning up the seemingly endless rubble that had gotten tossed around.

"Andrew! Have you seen the saw?" You yelled," One of the tree branches, the big ones. Had landed on the gate.

"Coming!" He brought the cemeteries tool kit with him. Together, you'd both spent a good chunk of the day getting rid of branches and any other random item that had blown away in the wind.

With you on one side and him on the other, together, you pushed and pulled on the saw till the branch was cut in half. Cutting it down into more manageable sizes, you went to grab the wheel barrel and loaded it up.

"We can get some pretty good firewood to sell!" Or find some artesian to sell it too.

"Maybe," it was a nice thought to have,"I'm going to check on her grave, I'll be back." He said, tying his shoe laces.

"Ok, be careful of any sharp nails hiding in the mud!" You warned.

"I will."

Waving good by Andrew left for his mother's grave. A little ways away from the shack he called home. Away and hidden from those who'd try and desecrate such a pure soul final resting place.