Mal knew he was in for it even before his unsteady foot hit the first step. The lights were on in the kitchen and that meant that his ma was still awake. He put a booted foot gingerly the step and tried to put his weight on it. The wooden step groaned under the weight of an almost but not quite grown 16 year old, drunk for the first time.

The party had been held at the Carter's, to celebrate the engagement of their daughter Susan, to the Jones boy. Tommy Jones was just 19 and the oldest member of the group that had been friends since childhood. He was also the first of the group to get engaged.

Mal's Ma had left the party early as she had to get up early in the morning to bake some of her amazing pies for the church picnic the next day. Mal had been given permission to stay late, with the promise that he wouldn't get into any trouble.

Trouble came. Tommy spent quite a while behind the barn late in the evening receiving the congratulations and ribald advice of his friends. Several small bottles of home brew appeared and were passed around generously to everyone, despite most of them being under age.

The talk got more and more bawdy as time as the level of the liquid in the bottles went down. Actually, not much was drunk, but the effects hit the inexperienced boys fast and hard. Within an hour all were inebriated to some extent. To top it off, a friendly shoving match had erupted fueled by the alcohol. Mal had gotten about half a bottle poured on his shirt front by Tommy when he tripped over the feet of another of his friends.

Soon after the party ended and Mal was able to hide the fact that he was drunk on the wagon ride home. The bouncing though, over the rutted road between the ranches had made his stomach start to turn flips. He was able to contain things until he got to his own front porch steps.

His head spinning and his stomach rebelling. Mal quickly decided that stocking feet were the way to go. That way he may just be able to sneak by the door of the kitchen without his mother knowing. As he tried to ease himself down on the first step to pull his boots off, he suddenly went down with a thud and sprawled half on and half off the bottom step.

The front door opened with a squeak and then a bang as the door slammed shut. The foot steps of his Ma sounded like thunder to his sensitive head. “You OK?” His mother said as she hurried out of the house the door not closing entirely. Her house coat was flapping in the cool breeze of the evening. She leaned down and looked at her son with concern.

“I'mm OK, jus' fell down. Thought I'd take my boots off befor' I went inside. Didyn't want to wake yah.”

“Whew, what's that smell comin' off of you? You smell like a still. What's goin' on?” Her voice matched the scowl on her face.

“Just a little celebratin'. You know. Tommy's getting' married”

“I think more than a little celebratin' went on from what I can smell. First of all got to get ya' in the house. Come on... “

Meg tried to pull her lanky son upright but his dead weight made it almost impossible. Mal tried mightily to help but his legs just wouldn't cooperate.

First she pulled, then she pushed and several attempts later Mal was finally standing.

“That's right, one foot on the step. Hang on to the rail and I'll be on the other side. Pull the other foot up.. just one more to go.”

“I'm OK, Ma.” The silly grin on his face told her that he definitely wasn't feeling any pain and wouldn't for a while.

As they came into the front parlor Meg said. “ Sit down on the sofa, Been a long time since I tried to carry you and you were a mite smaller then too.”

All of a sudden Mal grabbed his Ma with one hand around her waist and the other hand in his large one. He spun her around like they had been dancing all evening. Meg was breathless. She hadn't been swung around like that in years, much less by her son.

All of a sudden he let her go and plopped down on the sofa with a thump. “See, I made it.” His grin even goofier if that was possible. “Made it into the house. Gotta go to bed. Up early in the morning for chorrsss.”

“Yes, you do have chores in the morning. And add weedin' the garden to your list.”

“What? That'll take moft of the day. The picnic's tomorrow. I promised Becky I'd eat her apple pie. She makes the best pie.” he said whistfully. “Pie's so good. So sweet, so nice, so soft.” His voice trailed off.

“Don't think you're talkin' 'bout pie, young man. And you won't be going to any church picnic. You're a bit too big for a whippin' so it's weedin' the garden for you. I think you need a cup of coffee, it'll take bit of the edge off”

Meg left the parlor for the kitchen and put the water on to boil. Right as she poured the coffee, she head a retching sound coming from the front parlor.

“Mal, you OK?” Meg ran into the front parlor to see Mal leaning over, vomiting all over the couch. Don't think you're goin' anywhere. Let me go get a rag to clean you up with.”

All Mal could manage was a weak smile as she went back into the kitchen. His stomach started to revolt again. Right as she returned with a pail and wet rags, his stomach let loose again and he doubled over. As soon as it was over she cleaned him up and he sat back on a clean place on the couch, exhausted from the vomiting and scared to move a muscle, lest it start all over again.

“You're goin' to be OK. You ain't the first young man to get carried away when the bottle gets passed and won't be the last. It just better be the last time 'fore you're of age.” She ran her fingers through the brown hair on his forehead lovingly. “You're growin' up too fast. 'Fore I know it you'll be the one getting' married, then havin' children and makin' me feel way too old. Just take your time. You're only young once.” She was quiet for a few moments, just listening to him. “You a bit better now?”

“I think I can get to my room.” “You need any help?”

“No, I think I can get to my room by myself.” Mal crossed the foyer and put his first foot on the steps to his room. He looked much steadier than when he first entered the house.

“Remember to weed the garden tomorrow. It's big but not too bad. If you get done in time, come on down to the church picnic. You never know. There may be a slice of apple pie left.”