Author's Note: A short, sweet mother-son story...with a bit of spice. Far from the type of story I would usually write though I thought I would give this a try. Happy Mother's Day.
"James?"
James slunk into his bedsheets with a groan as his mom called his name. She rapped on his bedroom door, anxious to come in but not wanting to overstep her boundaries at the same time. Sheryl Kroger was a great mother, the best any child could ask for. And on a typical day he would let her come in without hesitation. But James didn't want to face her or anyone, not now or anytime soon.
"Honey, I know these last couple of days have been hard but you need fresh air. I haven't seen you come out of your room in a week...?" The rapping on the door got louder, his mom's voice soft and laced with concern. She stopped and hesitated,
"You can't call in sick at school forever. It's perfectly normal what you're going through sweetheart. Everyone your age has acne..."
He rolled over and groaned in agony as his mom slipped into her pity spiel. This must've been the 10th time this school year.
Everyone
gets acne, she says, it's normal. Except everyone doesn't get blistering cystic acne that makes them look like Baby Yoda. It was the first time that not even star pimple patches could quell the deep red lumps throbbing under his skin. He felt like his face was sprouting a new nodule thinking about it. It took everything in him not to touch it. Touching meant picking. Picking meant bleeding. Bleeding meant scabbing. And scabs meant scars, deep rich brown scars that depressed his rich honey complexion. He knew his mom was trying to make him feel better. But nothing felt more humiliating than being pitied. And having cystic acne at 19 while others his age had clear skin was torture. It meant nonstop doctor's trips, medications and other attempts to treat the untreatable. It was one of the worst feelings ever. So as much as James wanted to open his door, he dismissed his mother's pleas.
On the other side of the door, Sheryl felt her heart sinking. She'd never seen her son so broken. She knew he had severe acne. But like most teens his age his acne always came and went. They were always able to get through it. At least that's what she thought. Now she knew how much of an emotional toll it was for him. It must've taken a huge hit on his self esteem. She raised her hand on the door as if to knock again but lowered it and sighed. What good could she do if all she could offer were hopeless words said before that never rang true? As long as they lived in a vain society, he would always feel inadequate with his acne. It reflected in his reserved and limited interactions with people. She never even saw him with a girlfriend before. Despite her encouraging him to put himself out there, he spent his weekends holed up in his room. He would do that for an eternity if she let him.
An idea came to her. With a newfound hope, she walked away from his room and padded downstairs to hatch out her brilliant plan.
~~The Next Morning~~
The next day, after James slept through lunch and dinner on an empty stomach, he woke up. The house was quiet. The feelings of guilt from yesterday rushed back into him as he remembered shutting his mom out. He knew his mom was only trying to help. But he wasn't ready to face her or anyone for that matter until his face looked less Shrek-like. Which by the looks of it would take weeks if not longer.
Sliding his slippers on, James trudged to his door when he froze with his hand on the handle. He realized he didn't actually
hear
his Mom leave. He just slept off. He shut his eyes and prayed that his Mom wasn't on the other side waiting to jump attack him. After all, that sounded like something she would do to try to lift his spirits. But when he opened the door there was no one there. Sighing in relief, he went to the adjacent bathroom and locked the door shut.
He gave himself a good hard look in the mirror. Acne aside, he felt that he was objectively good looking. Curly jet black hair, jade green eyes, and a cut jawline.
Light boyish facial hair framed a honey-dew complexion he owed to his father's good genes. But with his father's good genes were the crappy acne-causing ones. And he felt those washed any attractive features in his body down the drain. White and yellow pus-filled pockets of acne freckled his face and upper chest. Deep brown scars from older acne followed, reminding him of his year-long struggle. He gurgled his mouth with mouthwash, moving onto his skincare routine and mentally cursed his father's side for the
p acne vulgaris
gene passed down to him. What was worse, his father never had acne as far as he knew. His father wasn't even in their lives anymore. He got to live his pimple-free life with the woman he left James's mother for. He got to shatter their world, while James was left to pick up the pieces.
Pinching the skin on his chiseled rib cage he flexed his lean six-pack and sighed. At least he had a good body.
After he finished his elaborate acne routine, took a shower and got dressed, he headed downstairs to the kitchen. There, he walked into a scene straight out of "Legally Blonde". On the counter was a big pink wooden board with beauty products arranged by color, size, and concern. Gels, creams, serums, ointments, scrubs, powders, and lotions were all lined up on the tray. His mother's beaming face greeted him when he walked in. She wore a pink pastel shirt embroidered with "Sheryl K, ST '' and a matching skirt. Her brown curly hair was pinned up in a sleek updo and her makeup and nails were pink and polished. She looked like a black Elle Woods. In the midst of his confusion he couldn't help but marvel at how stunning she looked.
"Surprise!" His mom squealed with joy.
He paused to form the words. "What's all this?"
Sheryl's eyes lit up with pride. "What does it look like? I made a spa deck for you! It has everything the girls at my clinic use to pamper our clientele's skin. I made a few calls and they said everything was free, can you believe it? Don't worry. Since I'm a full time spa technician now, it won't come out of my paycheck. But I thought, instead of bringing you to the spa, why not bring the spa to you?"
"Mom." he sighed. Not this again. It felt like every time he had a horrible breakout his mom was quick to find a new remedy. "No."
Her face dropped. "No?" The sadness in her voice almost crushed him. "Why not?"
"It's ...it's too much, Mom. I appreciate it but all this...stuff," He gestured at the sheet masks, essential oils, and skincare products on the spa board. "is not going to make my acne go away overnight. I'll just have to live with my face like this until it's somewhat decent for school again."
"James Huey Kroger," Sheryl put her hands firmly on her hips. "You will not speak that way to me! You will not stand there and give up on yourself! You are my son and I want what's best for you. And I know you can't see it right now but there is hope, sweetie. There is always something you can do to make things better. But lying in bed and drowning out the world while you sulk will not be it. So please, just try it?"
James was stunned. His mother never looked so distraught. He loved her for caring and making this effort for him. But at the same time he was tired of his acne and of getting tired of it. He no longer wanted it to be his or his mother's burden to try to "solve". It always came and went, and he knew it would always be a part of him. In a few day's time it would go, and he'd be back to the miserable cycle he was always in. This time he wanted to endure the cycle without the delusion of hope.
But her puppy eyes told him another thing. Her words alone could make him melt. He felt like a dork for admitting this but he adored her so much that rejecting her even if he was right hurt him. He felt his mouth forming the words to concede to her but at the last minute he said tightening his jaw, "I'm sorry, Mom. Let me figure this out on my own, ok?"
He grabbed a piece of toast off the counter avoiding the look in his mother's eyes as he walked away. He felt a punch to the gut like he was walking away from the one light in his life. He headed back to his room but when he turned the knob he felt the wind knock out of him and tumbled to the floor.
"What the---!"
"I'm sorry sweetheart, but I'm not accepting your defeat like this!" His mother said, crouching over him. Did she just tackle him to the ground?
"Mom --!"
"No! You're not locking yourself in your room another day. It's Operation Go-Time!"
"What- this is insane! You're insane! I--" James panted, exasperated. It shocked him that his 5'6 150 lb mother Ray Lewis'd him as a last resort. And it hurt. He spit out the now defeated looking slice of toast from his mouth. This was going to be a long day.
~Sometime later~
