More Than Politics {Book 1}: Editing

42

It was a quiet Saturday morning at the Banks Family house. The sun shone brightly over the garden, bringing the brush to life with its insect inhabitants.

The fountain, that of which Cynthia-May sculpted herself, stood majestically in the centre, spraying water in glistening ropes to the pond below.

Bees buzzed, birds sang, and if you listened carefully, the soft snoring of Graham could also be heard from his bedroom window. Well... That was until his mother poured a bucket of water over him.

"RISE AND SHINE SWEETIE, WE HAVE A BUSY DAY AHEAD OF US!" She sang angrily.

Graham coughed and spluttered, trying and failing to get up off the floor. "Mom! What the fuck was that for."

SMACK!

"Don't you dare speak to me like that when I'm angry." She hissed after sending a back hand to her sons cheek. "Ungreatful swine."

She stormed out of the door, clutching her night gown in one fist and the empty bucket in the other. Graham stood stunned, holding his stinging cheek with both hands.

"I honestly don't know what to say son. I thought we raised you better than this." Vincent said from the door.

"Huh... Oh shit." Graham hissed as pain shot through his head.

Vincent let out an audible sigh. "Go take a shower, I don't want you stinking of alcohol when you meet our guests."

"Guests?" Graham questioned, trudging along to the bathroom.

He did as told, taking a long shower and an aspirin for his headache. It was only when he smelt the alcohol from his clothes did he remember what happened the previous night.

He groaned deep in his chest, he couldn't believe he'd done that, he was probably going to be heavily fined. That probably what the whole guest thing was about.

His parents were right, they had raised him better than this, he should've known better than to get so drunk. Never in his life had he shown such violence, not even when Eva died and his accident.

He put on a T-shirt and sweat pants before sucking it up and going downstairs. The smell of muffins guided him to the kitchen, where his mother had apparently been baking.

The counter was topped with what looked like mango muffins, it was an odd choice, but Graham was hungry. But before he could grab one, a wooden spoon landed over his knuckles.

"Those are not for you!" His mother scowled. For all her grace and elegance in the public eye, it did not directly translate when it came down to being a wife and mother.

Cynthia-May and her older sister Albany, were born of Latino father and a Sicilian mother. Of cause, Graham's mother had to tone it down to run the family company, but was not afraid to let loose when at home.

"But Mom, I'm hungry." Graham whined, feeling like a twelve year old.

"You really think I care about that right now. I thought I had raised you to keep yourself in check no matter how hard the situation. But what do I get huh... My son comes running home in the middle of the night, only for me to wake up with police at my door saying he'd gotten drunk and hospitalised a guy over a girl he can't admit that he wants!"

"Mom..."

"No I don't want to hear it. Now hurry on the guests are waiting. And crying out loud BE A MAN!!"

He'd seen it coming, he was sure there was a weeping mother in the sitting room, eyes bloodshot and claiming compensation for Graham's actions. He would never stoop so low again, from here on out, he swore not to let anything like that happen again. Not even because of Ama.