Scarecrow and Mrs. King
"Duty"
Written by Anne Riener
"Duty"
Written by Anne Riener
A young boy sat on the edge of a wooden chair in the hallway, his hands resting on the seat. His little legs could not reach the floor, so his feet swung back and forth. He was facing the office door, that had a frosted window, with painted black letters on it. He could hear the conversation going on behind the closed door.
“I just wish I knew what to do with the boy,” he heard the man with a deep baritone voice say. “When it comes to raising children, I have to admit I’m as naked as a babe in the woods. Why couldn't they come with instruction manuals?”
“Major Clayton, you are the last living relative Lee has, but if you feel you cannot raise him, he could become a ward of the State,” he heard the sweet alto-voiced woman he had met this morning say.
“No, Major Robert Clayton always does his duty. There has not been a challenge I have not be able to lick, and I will meet this one head on. After all, he is my half-brother’s son. And like you said, I am the only one left.”
“Would you like to meet Lee? He really is a sweet child. I don’t think you've any problems with him at all,” she stated simply.
“Okay. I’m ready,” he heard the man say.
The social worker opened the door, and walked out into the hallway. Taking Lee’s hand, she smiled, and led him into the Major’s office. Lee glanced around the room, noticing the photographs of jet airplanes and maps on the walls, and model planes on the desk and file cabinets. Standing behind the desk, looking out the window was his uncle, dressed in dress-blues.
“Lee, this is your uncle, Robert Clayton. Major Robert Clayton, your nephew, Lee.” She gave Lee a reassuring squeeze of his hand. He looked up at the social worker and she smiled back at him. “It’s okay,” she had told him, before leaving the room and closing the door. The window shook as the door latched.
His uncle turned around and was suddenly startled. “Boy, you sure do look like your father.” He slowly shook his head. “Well, now. How about I take you down to the mess hall, and then when I’m finished here, I’ll show you where we bunk.”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No,” Lee said defiantly a second time.
“Lee, stand up straight, and the correct way to address me is 'Sir'." His uncle, just inches from his face, punctuated each word, “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”
Lee stared at his uncle for a moment, before conceding defeat. There would be other arguments he would win, but not today. He swallowed hard, before answering in barely a whisper, “Yes, Sir.”
“I can’t hear you. What do you say?”
“Yes, Sir,” Lee said much louder. He then glared at his uncle, crossly, and folded his arms in from of him, defensively.
“Good. Now, let’s go find Sergeant Dorsey, and see if he has any work for you to do, to keep you out of my hair until I am through.” His uncle then opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.
Lee stood behind his uncle and stuck out his tongue before following him out the door.
“I just wish I knew what to do with the boy,” he heard the man with a deep baritone voice say. “When it comes to raising children, I have to admit I’m as naked as a babe in the woods. Why couldn't they come with instruction manuals?”
“Major Clayton, you are the last living relative Lee has, but if you feel you cannot raise him, he could become a ward of the State,” he heard the sweet alto-voiced woman he had met this morning say.
“No, Major Robert Clayton always does his duty. There has not been a challenge I have not be able to lick, and I will meet this one head on. After all, he is my half-brother’s son. And like you said, I am the only one left.”
“Would you like to meet Lee? He really is a sweet child. I don’t think you've any problems with him at all,” she stated simply.
“Okay. I’m ready,” he heard the man say.
The social worker opened the door, and walked out into the hallway. Taking Lee’s hand, she smiled, and led him into the Major’s office. Lee glanced around the room, noticing the photographs of jet airplanes and maps on the walls, and model planes on the desk and file cabinets. Standing behind the desk, looking out the window was his uncle, dressed in dress-blues.
“Lee, this is your uncle, Robert Clayton. Major Robert Clayton, your nephew, Lee.” She gave Lee a reassuring squeeze of his hand. He looked up at the social worker and she smiled back at him. “It’s okay,” she had told him, before leaving the room and closing the door. The window shook as the door latched.
His uncle turned around and was suddenly startled. “Boy, you sure do look like your father.” He slowly shook his head. “Well, now. How about I take you down to the mess hall, and then when I’m finished here, I’ll show you where we bunk.”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No,” Lee said defiantly a second time.
“Lee, stand up straight, and the correct way to address me is 'Sir'." His uncle, just inches from his face, punctuated each word, “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”
Lee stared at his uncle for a moment, before conceding defeat. There would be other arguments he would win, but not today. He swallowed hard, before answering in barely a whisper, “Yes, Sir.”
“I can’t hear you. What do you say?”
“Yes, Sir,” Lee said much louder. He then glared at his uncle, crossly, and folded his arms in from of him, defensively.
“Good. Now, let’s go find Sergeant Dorsey, and see if he has any work for you to do, to keep you out of my hair until I am through.” His uncle then opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.
Lee stood behind his uncle and stuck out his tongue before following him out the door.
