"Michael, would you come here for a minute?"
Susanna called to her son from her home office. Michael did not respond at once. He sat slouched on the sofa, on the other side of the house, playing Fortnite on the big-screen TV in the living room. It was late Sunday morning, and Michael didn't have to go to work.
"What is it, mom?" he shouted back, not moving a muscle to get up. He was in the middle of a game, and it was going well. He was keeping up, more or less, with his teammate and recent tournament champion Buttstomper467.
"Can you just come here? It's important," she called.
"Shit," he said out loud. At that moment his character was killed by an assault rifle burst from an unseen enemy. He tossed the game controller on the sofa and stood up. His mom seemed determined to see him, and Fortnite could wait.
Susanna sat at the computer in her office. As usual, the room was cluttered with her paintings and drawings. She swiveled around in her chair as Michael entered the room. She wore a threadbare, tie-dyed shirt, and it was obvious to Michael from the movement under it that she wasn't wearing a bra. For the hundredth time, Michael wished his mom wouldn't dress that way, because it agitated him to stare at her breasts swinging unfettered under the flimsy t-shirt. But Michael knew that going braless fit with his mother's newly adopted carefree, Bohemian image of herself, and he knew she wasn't going to stop. He glanced away from his mom to the computer screen. Susanna didn't appear to notice his agitation.
"I'd like you to see this," she said, pointing at the screen.
Michael stepped closer to see what she was looking at. A masthead with the words "Human Synergy Institute" stretched across the top of the screen. Underneath the heading were pictures of people with hands pressed together and eyes closed, expressions of bliss on their faces. They looked like they were meditating, or maybe achieving orgasm. It was hard to tell. The site looked vaguely Eastern and New Age-ish. Michael wondered what new thing mom was up to.
His eyes wandered to the mess on his mother's desk. His mother was careful about some things, but she was hopeless when dealing with paperwork. A phone bill was spread out next to the computer monitor, with a big number following the boldface words "Late Fee."
That would have to wait. He turned his attention back to the computer screen.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Remember I asked you not to make plans for next weekend?"
"Yeah, I remember. You said you wanted us to spend some 'quality time' together."
"That's right. This is what I want us to do. The Human Synergy Institute. A friend from my painting class told me about it. They put on workshops at a hot springs resort in the hills about two hours away. The workshops help people work out obstacles in their relationships. I want to attend a workshop there with you. We have some issues to work out, and this would be a nice way to do it. My friend said good things about them."
Michael looked at the computer screen, skeptical. This was his mom's kind of thing, but not his. Susanna had a Ph.D. in psychology and had spent most of her career as a clinical psychologist with a successful private practice. Seven years earlier, she'd given all that up to try becoming a full-time painter and poet. She'd had mixed success at her art ever since. But his mom never had shed her habit of thinking like a psychologist or of believing that there was no such thing as too much therapy or too much communication. Over the years Michael had attended several joint sessions with his mom with therapists to discuss his parents' divorce and his feelings about it. He wasn't eager to do more.
"Mom, I don't feel like we really have more issues to discuss. I'm fine with things. We get along well. We're good."
"Getting along doesn't mean there aren't things to work out. I've sensed some distance between us lately. I wonder if you are still angry. But, regardless, this is a great opportunity. Whatever you think about the relationship, it will be good time together for us. And it's not just workshops. The resort has some great pools and the scenery is beautiful. We can go hiking. I know you enjoy that."
Susanna was right about that. Michael always liked getting out in nature, and hiking in the hills was one of his favorite things to do. It was a great time of year for it, too: the summer was in its early days, with the trees full and green with foliage, scattered remnants of spring flowers still abloom in newly sunbaked fields. Michael wasn't so sure about the therapy, but the hiking sounded fun. It would only be one weekend. And he could tell his mom really wanted to do it.
"O.K., mom," he said. "Sure. I'm up for it."
Susanna jumped up and down twice. Her unclad breasts shook under the t-shirt. Michael looked away.
"Yay!" she said. "We'll have fun, Michael. And it will be good for us."
Michael doubted that, but he didn't want to argue with his mom. He already had told her he'd leave the weekend free to spend time with her. He intended to honor his promise, whatever she had in mind.
Michael didn't think there were any issues to work out with mom, though he knew that in the past, that hadn't been true. Seven years earlier, when Michael was thirteen, his mom suddenly quit her job as a psychologist. She had a mid-life crisis. Michael never knew what it was all about. He was just entering his teen years and still trying to navigate his way through the trials of adolescence without having to figure out his parents' problems.
Unfortunately, he couldn't extricate his life from his parents' marital crises. Not long after his mom left her job and started taking painting lessons, she had an affair with an art teacher. Michael's dad found out, and their marriage blew up. Later, he found out his dad had been having an affair with a secretary. So, neither parent was fully innocent and neither one was fully guilty in Michael's eyes. They got divorced. It sucked for Michael, at first. But as time passed, he realized his mom and dad never had been right for each other. They were happier in divorce. His dad married his secretary. His mom pursued her art and poetry. They grew as people. They remained as loving to Michael as ever. But there were scars, and they didn't heal right away.
That was a long time ago, however, and Michael thought he'd moved past it. He was a junior in college now, studying economics. College was several hours away, but he was living at home for the summer, alternating between his parents' houses while he worked as an assistant at a local real estate development company.
Two days after Susanna told Michael about her plans for the weekend, he was hanging out in the kitchen with his friend Connor. He'd just gotten home from work. He told Connor about his mom's plans for the coming weekend.
"So, you're going to this hot spring place with your mom, huh?" Connor asked. "Are you going to be naked?"
"No!" Michael said, offended. "We're not going to be naked. It's not like that. It's some kind of therapy workshop, where people work on relationships."
"If you say so," Connor said. "I thought those hot spring places were clothing optional. Whatever. Not that there's anything wrong spending the weekend naked with your mom."
"Connor!" said Michael, almost shouting.
"Hey, sorry," said Connor. "It's just . . . you know. It's your mom. You know what I mean."
Michael stared at his friend, not blinking.
"No. I don't know what you mean."
Susanna suddenly appeared in the kitchen. She wore a tight t-shirt and cutoff shorts.
