5 word challenge: the con

"It's not about trust, it's about rhythm," Henry said but the looks he was getting suggested that he was the one off-beat.

That's okay, he thought but kept to himself. Despite the strongest urge to look up, out, away, he maintained eye contact. They stared back at him. The lack of verbal reaction fortified his resolve.

"Look, all I'm saying is everything ain't for everyone all time time," he said. They nodded in agreement. He thought they might have detected his smirk as he mentally completed the sentence ...and  sometimes I can't stand you motherfuckers.

"But, right now, you need us," his father said.

"I don't need shit."

"What you need is God," his mother replied. The frustration in her voice seemed to sting him, she thought. She watched him try to pull away but get denied by his chains.  She continued, "The absence of God is what got you here in your little orange jumpsuit and shackles. You can try to pin that shit on us --"

"Mother," his father interrupted.

"No, let me say this to the boy, John. He needs to hear it. You can talk about beats and rhythms and about what you will or won't do and try to come at us with your jail house philosophy but you can't bullshit us. You put yourself here. You're the one with the master plan and complicated schemes and look what it's got you."

"...Mom..."

"Shut up, boy, for a minute and listen. You can't con me like one of your marks. I know God's grand design and it wasn't for you to become a thief and a criminal and a wannabe bad ass. You're so smart -- but not as smart as you think -- and so charming that you could've been anything. Instead, though, every obstacle was too difficult, every challenge too hard. You always needed the easy way out."

Henry's head was down now. That hint of a smirk gone. His mother softened. She worried he wouldn't look at them again.

"Henry, you're my boy. I begin and end with you and this family will always be here for you."

"Leave," he said, cutting her off.

"What," she asked.

He looked up now, his jaw set, his eyes ablaze, "I said, 'leave.' You think you can come in here and tell me who I am and who I'm not and  talk about god's plans and all that? This is my time. I have to do it. Not you, not dad, not your god. Maybe you're right about me. Maybe you are but, truth be told, if I'm going to change it's not going to be with you two coming up here once a week for the next three to five and preaching. So, I'm saying," he looked down again as if choked up. He looked up again with tears in his eyes, "I'm saying, we're not on the same frequency right now. We're not even speaking the same language, mom. So, leave. Don't come back here. You too, dad. Leave me be. I need to find myself."

"You need Jesus," she said without much conviction.

"You need to get the fuck out, " he said with a ton of it and hung up the phone. He scooted his chair around so that now they only saw his back. As the guard came to uncuff him and take him back to his cell, he imagined his mother crying, his dad holding her by the shoulders. Henry's crocodile tears dried quickly as he envisioned them walking back to their car never to return.

Normally, after a con, he couldn't contain his glee. He'd got one over. He'd again somehow made someone happy to do something that they didn't really want to do. Most of the time, though, his confidence games were for his own benefit.

This one, however, was for them and, so, no smile came.