Steven
I'd spent the day personalizing the computer in my apartment, running through the business programs and getting them set up. In the background, I had
CNN
on one monitor with continuous market coverage on another. I was trying to catch up with what had been going on in the world, if only to take my mind off things for a while as I drank, sometimes blasting some tunes.
Nobody rang, not even servants, to disturb my peace and, by about seven o'clock, my parasite was large and in charge, downing a beer moments before his exit to do what he'd set himself to do.
Despite my worry, there was a strange calm as well, a casualness born of reckless confidence as I stepped outside my door. Taking a brief glance both ways, I started down the corridor, dropping my keys into the pocket of my light grey dress pants while smoothing my freshly combed hair, still wet and slicked back. This was a new style for me but, while creating the sharp part to one side in the mirror a little earlier on, I never thought much about it beyond its efficiency and neat look. My white shirt was buttoned up far enough to allow for a loosely collared, narrow black tie, another first for me and just as naturally accidental as how I did my hair. At the moment, however, the only thing I could think about was my current course of action.
I knocked three times on Mum's door and stood back to wait. I was running the tip of my tongue over my teeth, testing the job I'd done earlier with brush and toothpaste when she answered.
She looked somehow lost, but after a short pause, "Come in."
Her apartment was cool and airy, the large, sliding glass balcony doors opened up to the overcast early evening. She seemed completely over whatever it was that Ashleigh had done to her and I wondered how she'd spent her day.
"Drink?" she quietly asked, her eyes averted.
"Yes, please."
I sat and waited, watching her movements. She'd changed into a rather conservative, royal blue business dress with appropriate black heels. It buttoned up quite far and flared out at her hips just a little to fall almost to her knees. The short sleeves added character, especially with the short sleeved, white blouse underneath that was buttoned up to her neck. This choice of attire looked very good on her.
"How was your day?" she asked with a neutral tone.
"It was alright. Actually, I was wondering how you were. After what Ashleigh did, I mean."
" ... I'm okay."
"Yeah. Uh... I figured we should talk."
Her smile was as neutral as her tone, but I was glad to see it as she returned with our drinks. Every little bit would help. She settled in beside me, neither one of us quite comfortable with the other, but allowing the business between us to overcome that barrier.
She said, "Look... I can see how you'd get carried away in the library and allow what happened with Sheila. As you saw, I... masturbated... to it. But I hope you know that... I'm your mother and that counts above what Ash says, even above her little tricks to get her way. You get that, right?"
I declined answer, looking down at her lap.
"Right?"
"Mum... have you spoken to Sheila yet?"
" ... Oh boy. They've gotten to you."
"Nobody's gotten to me, I'm just asking if you even bothered to get her side."
"Hon, I know her side. I told you all about her side, and I can pretty safely guarantee that nobody else on this planet could better tell you about her side."
"You did miss her, you told me. She misses you, too. She wasn't kidding about what she said this morning, she's told me much the same th-"
"I know exactly what the little whore's told you and everything you told her," Mum leveled, now comfortable enough to bring up just how she'd acquired that information.
" ... Yeah... Look, I'm just saying that maybe you should give her a chance, alright?"
She was looking closer, bolder in her dissatisfaction and was now seeing who she was dealing with. After some hesitation, she came on from a different angle.
"She's not like us, Son. Not at all. I know you see the difference."
"What's your point?"
"She can't be trusted!"
"Don't go thinking our family pet hasn't pissed all over Sheila's leg too, Mum. I'm pretty confident about trusting her where that's concerned."
"You're letting her come between us."
"Never mind, then," I said, getting up from the couch and strolling aimlessly across the floor with my drink, my other hand shoved carelessly into my pocket.
"What do you mean, 'never mind'?" she demanded, put out with my dismissal, but still careful of her other son.
"All I asked is whether or not it might not be wise to give her a chance to talk to you."
"Well, it wouldn't be wise," she tightly ascertained.
"Okay, never mind then. That's that."
I made my way to her kitchenette and grabbed some ice for my drink, even though I like it without. Meanwhile, I could feel her eyes on my back as she silently wrestled with herself over how to handle me.
Finally, she decided on, "Don't think I don't know Ash is all over you about influencing me."
"You're right, she is," I agreed with a light tone. "Like I said, she loves you."
"Oh, puh-
lease.
"Why wouldn't she?"
"Let's just cut through all the crap here," she suggested. "The reason we're having this conversation is because you want to philander with Sheila. Isn't that about it?"
"That's beside the point."
"That's
exactly
the point. The one you can't seem to get. Did I not make it clearly enough the last time,
sweetie
pie?"
Kitten
Things were really good between Gina and I after the ice was broken. We still had to talk, but we were each very relaxed with the other while I was getting myself together, again wondering what had happened to the day.
Our spirits were still good during a late supper in the kitchen. We talked while we sat at the island on the tall stools there, me knowing this to be one of Stevie's haunts and wondering if he'd drop by.
"So, it must've been one hell of a family meeting," she teased.
I frowned before I could stop myself, but replied, "Yeah, it's... complicated."
"Nothing you can talk about?"
" ... Auntie Ashleigh says it's okay for Stevie to be friends with Sheila," I gave her, leaving it at that for fear of where more information would naturally lead.
"Well... people do have the right to pick their own friends. Hell, I've seen them together, too."
"You have?"
