His Muse

"Where the fuck have you been?"

Beth looked at him, slightly shocked by his outburst.

"I went for a walk," she replied, turning away from him to hang up her coat. Hooking the hood over the rack, she let it go leaving the coat hanging like a black version of a Ku Klux Klan costume.

"For three days?" Jake snapped. Beth chuckled and walked to the kettle.

"It was a long walk."

Flicking the kettle on, she turned and leaned against the counter. Jake was standing in his pyjamas, his feet bare against the linoleum kitchen floor. His hair was still messy from bed, and he had his arms crossed over his chest defensively.

"You've not worked today yet, have you?" she asked.

"I've been waiting for you," he answered.

Beth shook her head and turned back to the counter, opening up the cupboard and pulling out a mug and the teabags. Dropping a teabag into the mug, she replaced the teabags in the cupboard and pushed past Jake to get to the fridge.

"You can't just go wandering off." Jake snapped, grabbing Beth's arm as she tried to return to the counter and the boiling kettle. "I need you!"

As Beth geared up for a witty retort a loud knock came at the front door. Jake glared at Beth, who had turned back to the kettle and had begun pouring water into her mug. He sighed and padded across the kitchen to open the front door.

Pulling it open, he groaned inwardly at the sight of his mother on the front step.

"Hello darling!" she cooed, stepping into the house and handing him a Sainsburys plastic bag. Jake pulled the handles apart and stared inside. Cluttered in the bag was a bottle of milk, a small bag of bagels and various other food items, some mundane, and some that Jake knew he'd never use. Like oregano. When in the world would he use oregano? Pulling the offensive small tub out of the bag, he held it up to his mother.

"Mum?" he asked, knowing he wouldn't have to finish the sentence.

"Oh, half price, sweetheart." she replied cheerfully. "Thought you might like it for when you cook spaghetti or something."

Jake threw a glance at Beth and raised an eyebrow. She hid a giggle from behind her hand and shook her head with amusement. Jake never cooked. His definition of cooking was the ready meals he brought at the local corner shop. He threw the tub of oregano back into the bag and closed the front door, walking back to the counter in the kitchen. Beth had disappeared. Probably off drinking her tea somewhere.

"Do you want tea, mum?" Jake asked, dumping the bag of shopping next to the sink to be packed away later.

"Yes please," she replied, following him and standing awkwardly in the centre of the kitchen. Jake stepped around her as he opened the fridge and pulled out the milk.

"So, everything alright?" he asked, flicking on the kettle and opening the cupboard for the mugs and teabags.

"Oh, everything's fine," she answered, "just thought I'd see how you were." She looked at his pyjamas and bare feet, his messy hair and slight dark circles under his eyes. "Have you just woken up?"

"Been up for a while," Jake replied quickly. "Just pottering around, y'know."

"Haven't you been writing?"

Jake rolled his eyes, 'typical mum', he thought wryly. 'She's only been here five minutes and she's already berating me'.

"Not yet," he answered quietly.

"You haven't been writing much recently."

"I did some yesterday!" Jake answered sharply. It was a lie. He hadn't written yesterday. He hadn't actually written anything for three days. He'd been worried about Beth.

"Yesterday was yesterday sweetheart. I thought you were meant to write every day."

He knew she meant well, but Jake couldn't stand it when his mum started on his writing. It was his work after all. It wasn't like a normal job where you got up every day at the same time and went to work. He had to be in the mood.

"I've just not started yet," he replied defensively.

"Well, you know what they say... the early bird catches the worm."

Jake rolled his eyes.

"If I wanted to catch worms I'd be a sparrow, mum. I'm trying to write a best seller."

As the kettle boiled, Jake picked it up and poured out two cups of tea, adding sugar to his own before removing the teabags and dumping them into the bin. Carrying the tea through to the living room, he placed them on the table and fell into his favourite seat on the sofa. His mother took the armchair, picking up her tea and blowing daintily on it.

Almost immediately, she began her usual monologue about what had been going on in her life. Seeing as Jake didn't know half the people she talked about, he soon found himself drifting into his own thoughts, wondering where Beth had gone. She often disappeared without notice, leaving him in a gloom of boredom and restless thoughts.

He made the right noises of agreement when needed, he nodded along to his mother's news, but he wasn't listening. It was only when she placed her empty mug back onto the table and stood up that he snapped himself out of it.

"Well, I should get going. Let you do some writing," she commented, smiling down at him. Jake placed his half drunk tea on the table and pushed himself up, stepping over to his mother to give her a quick hug.

"It was nice to see you," he said as he pulled away.

"You too, sweetheart."

She walked to the door and opened it, turning around at the last second.

"You should go out more, darling," she stated confidently. "Meet a nice girl. Maybe she can be your muse." She giggled at her own joke and shrugged happily.

"Bye mum," Jake replied with a grin. He had Beth. He didn't need another muse.

"Bye darling," she answered, stepping out onto the steps and pulling the door closed.

Jake rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation and walked back into the hallway. Looking down into the kitchen, he wondered where Beth had gotten to. Wandering up the stairs, he checked the bedroom with no luck. The bathroom door was flung open so he knew she wasn't up there.

"Beth?" he called, looking over the banister and back down the stairs.

No reply.

"HEY, BETH!" he yelled, wondering if she'd gone out into the back garden.

Ten minutes of looking later, and he still couldn't find her. Shaking his head, he went back to the living room and fell into the sofa. He picked up the remote and flipped on the TV. Beth had gone again. No use in writing now.