Running away

Johnathan jumped into his car and drove. He didn't know quite where he was going to go, but right now that didn't matter so much as getting away from James.

James had been right, it was best of him to leave before he embarrassed himself. He had wanted to smack James in the mouth he'd been so angry. Everything just seemed to fall into place for James. Always, James had been the successful one, the one with a beautiful wife, the one with the big, well-paying job. The one to benefit most from the will. The one to get the house without any arguments from anyone.

He pulled over into a layby, switched off the engine and screamed at his steering wheel for a moment. He felt a little better then, a little calmer, more composed. Hands still shaking from the adrenaline, he pulled out the crumpled letter from his pocket and looked at once more.

Why did you do this Dad? Didn't you know this would happen? What did James do to deserve your love so much more than me?

A tear formed in Johnathan's eye and he blinked it back, refusing to cry. It so was so frustrating, always being second to James' first. Reading through the letter again gave him some comfort though. Dad hadn't trusted James with these, couldn't trust him. For once, he'd been chosen. That realisation spurred him to action.

He still had a few days off of work, for the funeral, he could go down to Shropshire now, find this friend of his fathers. He could go now. He began to turn to key in the ignition but stopped himself just before the engine burst into life. It felt too much like running away, running away from James and mum and the house and all the problems that entailed on some wild goose chase his father had put him on.

Damn it, so be it. It doesn't matter. It's something I've got to do.

The key turned in the ignition and soon Johnathan was well on his way to Shropshire. As he drove, the odd poem he had found on his father's computer came to mind and he hummed the tune over and over as he drove on through the evening light.


The End

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