Crossover With Non-anime Series Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Dark Side of the Moon ❯ The Wind Cries Mary ( Chapter 23 )

The Wind Cries Mary

*Matt*

My childhood was an interesting one. I never did have a normal life. My parents were always on the rood. My mother was a famous singer and my father was her manager. Sure, they had rough times. But they loved each other as much as they loved me.

 

*Flashback*

My father met mother when he was looking for fresh young talent for his record label. So far, he had no luck. Desperate, my father went to a junior talent show in New Orleans to try his luck. Fate smiled upon him there. A young lovely girl of fifteen was singing in the show. She was singing “Respect” by Aretha Franklin. When she finished the whole song, my father fell in love with her strong and sweet voice. Right then, he just knew he had to have her! My father instantly slipped back stage to greet the girl. She won first prize in the show as expected of the neighbors of her community. When the girl was about to go home near the show's end, she was greeted back stage with a huge bouquet of red roses. Pleasantly surprised, she looked to see who her admirer was. A man dressed in a rich suit was smiling at her. His was a very charming site to see. He smelt of expensive wine. Instantly, the young girl fell head over heels for the man.

“Hi there.” my father greeted her. “Are those… for me?” she managed to ask at last. My father nodded with a charming smiling. The girl took them blushing. “T-Thank you!” she said at last in shock. My father could tell she had never gotten something so beautiful like that before. He just kept smiling like a saint. Now to reel her in. “Congrats on winning first prize.” he complemented her. “Thanks!” the girl chirped. Then he looked around slyly. “I have a better prize for you.” he went on. The girl froze and looked up at him. “What is it?” he asked. My father than pulled out his business card. “A record deal.” he replied. The girl's eyes grew big in a flash. “Really?” she asked. The man nodded again. “Think of it my girl,” he went on. “Great travel, fame, and all the wealth you like!” The girl didn't know what to say. Such an opportunity had never spilled into her lap before. But she was too stunned to answer. My father just kept smiling. “Here,” he said as he handed her his business card. “I'll give you three days to think it over.” The girl just nodded. My father leaned into her china doll face. “Bye now.” he said. Then, the man walked away.

Despite having a few problems with her grandmother, (her parents were hippies, so they didn't care. She was practically raised but her old-fashioned grandmother.), my mother got her chance of fame. My father signed her to his record label, Dark Gold, in July tenth 1982. Records were smooth as silk. My father was proud of his latest decision. On December twenty-third, my mother's first album, Strawberry Dream, came out. It was a top-seller. For once, my mother was actually noticed.

But along with my mother's newfound fame, something else happened. My father had developed an attraction to his new show pony. Soon, he wanted her more than a star. So my father began seducing my mother. She was already charmed by him and didn't even bother trying to resist his passes. The two soon became lovers. When they weren't working, my parents were screwing each other. Sometimes when it was late, they do it standing up in the studio with my mother's panties around her soft ankles. All was passionate and sweet, until my mother became pregnant with me. This created a few problems. My mother was only fifteen and my father was twenty! Of course, my mother's grandmother was outraged. Her parents didn't really care, because they were hippies and for pro-creation. In order for her grandmother not to take him to the police as she threatened, my father agreed to marry my mother. They wed in 1983 on Valentine's Day in a small church and ceremony. Things were slightly bitter but they managed to pull through. On August twentieth, I was born in a busy hospital. From what I was I told, I pretty held the pretty together between my parents.

My mother balanced her career and parenthood quite nicely. She took me with her to her gigs when she couldn't find a baby-sitter. I had to stay back stage out of sight to keep her from getting in trouble for bringing a child to a club. For a time, I was blind by innocence and didn't know my surroundings too well. I got my first hint when I was six years old. It was a hot July night in Tommy's in New Orleans. I was bored and restless. (That's how little kids tend to get at times.) I wandered near the curtains to see why everyone was cheering. And that's when I saw her. My mother was dressed up in a short red and gold dress with a yellow flower in her long cinnamon brown hair. Her skin was lightly coated in shiny glitter. I heard her lovely bird like voice as clear as a bell for once. She was singing. “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?” by Culture Club was the song. I was intrigued. I thought my mother was an angel from heaven. I wanted to run and hug her legs tightly. But I didn't, I was being a good little boy at the time and she told me not to.

My mother managed to make time for me in between recordings and gigs. After her shows, she took me to the pancake house to breakfast for dinner. She always ordered me pecan pancakes. There, she taught me some proper etiquette. When I wanted more syrup, I had to ask politely for it. It took while for me to learn how to ask first hand. But then, it became second nature. When I got the right amount of syrup on my pancakes, I would always try to grab my fork. My mother would always clear her throat loudly. I would stop and look up confused. “What do you say, young man?” she would question. “Thank you…” I reply in a small voice. “Thank you, what?” she asked. “Thank you, mama.” I would say clearly. Then, she would smile and say, “Very good.” I always got to eat afterwards. I would eat while I watched her smoke her thin cigarettes at the table. When my parents and I were in a different city, my mother managed to take me out to eat between her gigs. I had tried many foods, but nothing could ever beat cuisine from New Orleans. She even took me to eat dinner with her family on Saturdays and Sundays. Yep, I was very close to my mother. But what about my father you ask? Well, we clashed all of the time. I think it was always a competition of who would be the man of the house. I always ended up losing, but my mother always came to my aid.

I also became aware of the fights my parents constantly had pretty quickly. I always tried to stay out of sight and not get involved. One night in Ohio when I was ten, their fight got so bad that my mother stormed out of the house in tears. But before she left, she grabbed and hugged her tight to me. She just cried on my shoulder the whole time. I just stood there and let her do so. I don't think she relied on me to know her problems. She just wanted me there to hold onto. Finally, she let go of me and walked out the door with a packed suitcase. I stood still and watched her leave. I came back to leave when I heard footsteps behind me. My father stood on the stairs staring at the door and me. I kept looking at him as if to ask, “Is mama coming back?” My father just looked at me coldly and barked, “What?” I said nothing and kept staring at him. My father just went back in his room and slammed the door so violently that it almost fell off of its hinges.

At thirteen however, I realized that my innocence was no one. I could no longer call my parents “mama” and “papa” anymore. I discovered this one October night in California when my parents were leaving for a business dinner. I was standing alone in are old den. I felt uneasy like I had been feeling through the whole summer. I heard my mother walk past me. I shut my eyes tightly in discomfort. I couldn't stand it much longer. “Moon Fuji!” I called out at last. My mother stopped and turned to me. She walked up to me and asked, “What do you want boy?” I opened my heavy brown and saw her close up in adult eyes. And right, I felt a strong wave of relief. I smiled and said, “I love you.” She just smiled and hugged me. “I love you too Matt.” she replied. “Come on let's go!” my father called out. “Coming!” Moon Fuji called out. Then she turned and went with him out the door.

From then on, I called my parents by their first names. Moon Fuji didn't seem to mind at all. (I know her name seems strange. But it's because her parents were hippies. So don't blame her.) But my father, Rolo, was still not used to the idea yet. He thought it was a threat to his title of Man of the House. Other than that, my childhood and life with them was great.

 

*Present Day*

I finally sighed, sat up and opened Rolo's stereo. Cheap bastard, just like me.

Somewhere, a King has No Wife