The Bear

[Chucklemonkey]

Only a small one part story this time, I promise.

Not too much else to do when you can't sleep in the middle of the night.

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General Stanley T Kowalski considered the operation a huge success. Despite his initial fear about the odds he would have to overcome, he had deployed the right resources in the right positions at perfectly allotted times, ensured that all those under his command for the day had been provided with sufficient knowledge of their role in the greater drama, and that they had been equipped adequately for the tasks that had befallen them. There was no doubt in his mind that he had given his boy a perfect sixth birthday party and that this time even his biggest critic, his wife Julie, would have to give him the credit he deserved. He felt sure that if the same high quality of organisation and success could be taken forward in his career then he would surely garner another one or two medals to add to his already glittering collection.

He sat alone now on the leather couch of his drawing room, positioned perfectly in front of the glass wall he had demanded from the Architect years before when having the house designed. It afforded him a perfect view of the Chicago skyline; a skyline lit only by the windows of others at this time in the evening.

He looked down to the glass in his right hand before raising it to his lips and draining the last remaining brandy it had contained in a long solitary gulp. General Kowalski did not believe in the merits of alcohol generally, he thought it a refuge of the weak. It had been a long held tradition of his however, to enjoy a single brandy when a plan had been carried out precisely to his orders.

He let his mind wander back to earlier in the day and enjoyed the memory of Christopher, his only son, and one he had long thought he would be unable to sire, smiling at the selection gifts brought by family and friends alike. He had ensured a good turn-out of his military colleagues too, together with the one or two politicos Stanley knew had to be schmoozed along the way. Everyone had been impressed with the entertainment, a troupe of renowned French acrobats. The boy had initially asked for a $$$$$$$$$$ but Stanley hated them with a vengeance and could hardly even bring himself to call them by name. What an absolute waste of time he considered them to be, they had no practical merit.

A crease formed in his brow, he had almost forgotten that one moment in the day he was unsure of. At the time he had told himself to ask Julie about it later but it was too late now, her having long retired to the bedroom. Still, he felt sure that he had never seen the woman before. She had possessed long flowing brown hair, with hazel eyes and had certainly walked directly enough amongst and through the other guess to suggest that she was perfectly at ease in her surroundings at the time. He knew she wasn’t Corporal Hightowers new girlfriend and he thought that he had managed to control Julie’s attempts to add to the guest-list to the point that only her friends he considered to be of sufficient social worth were invited. Well, in any event, the day had passed without incident, so what was the point of worrying about it now.

He used the right arm of the couch to raise himself and felt the familiar ache in his muscles, his body telling him that it would not be long now before he had to retire. Still, his plans for a cushy political role at that time were well under way.

He wandered through the house and in a moment of weakness decided to step into Christopher’s bedroom. Stepping towards the bed, the feelings of doubt washed over him anew. The boy was a wimp. Stanley knew this even at Christopher’s early age. The blond hair and blue eyes also troubled him. Given the length of time it had taken Julie to conceive surely the doubts as to the boys heritage were justified? He had heard the whispers of others proclaiming similar and in the days of Stanley’s youth he would have reacted violently to their sniping. Now though as he looked down at the sleeping boy, he truly didn’t care.

What was that?

He had told Julie a hundred times that no son of his would have such frivolous toys, and yet there it was bold as brass, held tightly within Christopher’s embrace. If someone at the party had given it as a gift he would have known about it, surely? He carefully lifted the toy bear from the bed and retreated from the child’s room. He headed towards the granite floored kitchen and with a mere three steps had cross the room and placed the bear next to the bin. Julie had better remove it from his house completely in the morning.

Turning back towards the door, he turned off the kitchen lamp and decided it was time for him too to hit the hay. He took a final look towards the bear before making the journey to his bedroom. He could have sworn he felt the bear's glass eyes follow him from the room and felt a chill pass through him as he took his final steps of a long day.

Edited July 28, 2011 by Chucklemonkey