In the end, he lost the battle and burst out laughing, not the least bit surprised when she followed suit.
“Boy, sit down. Silly.” She chuckled. “I am so done with you.” She slapped his arm playfully and pointed towards the living room. “I’m going to check on this food one last time, jump in the shower, and then I’ll be down in no time at all.”
“Take your time. I can just watch a little T.V. while I wait.”
“The remote control is on the coffee table next to that stack of magazines. Help yourself to something to drink in the refrigerator if you want. Make yourself comfortable.”
He sat on the soft cream leather couch, slid his shoes off, and propped his foot up on the coffee table. As he grabbed the remote control, he could hear her shuffling in the kitchen, then the pitter patter of her walking away. Just as he was about to turn on the television, his phone buzzed. It was a text message from Aiden.
Aiden was spending the night over at his friend Darryl’s house. Darryl’s parents were decent people, and the boy was a well-mannered kid. He trusted him to not get Aiden involved in anything crazy.
As he channel-surfed, his mind wandered. Another visit to see Mama… another visit with her not speaking… another visit with me now looking at her different…
Things had changed. Resentment twisted in his gut like some worm, and instead of being nabbed, caught on a hook to dip into the river as bait, the slimy organism grew bigger, and bigger, and bigger – feeding off his torment, his bitterness, his deep seeded rage. I couldn’t imagine not telling my son who his mother was in the case she’d been absent, died, or in some way disappeared right after his birth. What kinda person does some shit like that? It didn’t matter much until now, I guess. It matters though, and that’s all I care about at this moment. Runnin’ all over the gotdamn city tryna figure out what the fuck happened!
He tossed the remote control down on the couch next to him and balled his fist up.
Benjamin, I fucking hate you. You did somethin’ to my mother she can’t even speak of. I bet if she could talk, she’d still not say a word! Both of you are to blame, and I was the one trapped in the middle. This is beyond money, the will, the funeral, those properties. I feel like I’m in some strange parallel universe. Everyone knew him, but no one REALLY knew him. What kinda shit is this?!
As he’d stood smiling at his mother in that nursing home an hour earlier, offering her assorted hard candies and brand new pink socks, it had taken all of him to not let her know just how truly upset he was. Instead, he’d sat at her side, as he’d done so often, patting her soft hand, telling her about his day and all the typical bullshit he did at least once a week. But today, it had all been for show.
A car commercial came on the television, which was mounted to the wall. He blinked. A big man with a cowboy hat was yelling about new Tacomas on the lot, his voice loud and dramatic. Aries swallowed a wad of spit and grunted, disgusted with the world.
Everything was coming to the surface like old stew that refused to stay down, burning his throat, repeating like a re-run in the form of emotional vomit. He hated that inside of his mother’s head were probably all the answers he needed and then some. She was a library, or store full of books, some of which affected his life, and the doors were closed to him, forever. How could she be so selfish? He shook the thoughts out of his mind. It’s not fair to blame her… Don’t do this. She was a good mother. There’s got to be a reason for this. She was open with me about just about everything else so why would this be any different?
The smells from the kitchen got more intense, calling his name. Being as quiet as possible, he stood and walked over to the kitchen, doing his best not to be heard. He washed his hands vigorously in the sink and dried them with a paper towel, then checked to make sure she wasn’t coming.
He made quick work of lifting the lids and taking a peek inside all the pans to assess his choices. His