Expect the Unexpected: Discovering His Mother

Notice: Please be aware that this series – ‘Expect the Unexpected’ – is a collection of unrelated stories and narratives. As such, please don’t expect to see characters from any previous entry. I apologize for any disappointment. The popularity of each story will help me gauge if there is enough interest to continue the storyline sometime down the road.

viceofchoice

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Scott was a typical high school senior. His grades were good, though not outstanding. He participated in sports, but was by no means the star player. He had an after-school job, but it wasn’t anything extravagant. Despite this rather average lifestyle, he was comfortable. Perhaps one day he’d step life up a notch, but for now, he was content just balance education and recreation.

The only thing Scott really lacked, he decided, was a girlfriend. Most of his friends were all steadily dating someone, and those that weren’t were only transitioning from one girl to the next. Sure, there were some of his friends who didn’t care to leap into the dating fray, but they were the ones who obsessed over homework, sports, their job or some other aspect in life. Either that, or they just didn’t give a crap. It was one extreme or the other – extremes to which Scott really had no interest in going.

So, there he sat on a Friday night, playing video games like Call of Duty or Assassins Creed without really having his head in the game. As such, his stats tonight were suffering. He couldn’t help it; his thoughts were elsewhere. Earlier that day, he had been hanging out with one of his best friends and felt compelled to listen as he reiterated the date he went on the night before with his girlfriend – complete with a detailed account of just how excellent a blowjob she could give.

Scott was jealous. He knew it, but he also knew that sitting here doing nothing about his situation would result in nothing new being accomplished. When the current multiplayer round ended, Scott shut down his gaming machine and headed back to his room on the main floor.

“Hey, Scott,” his mother addressed him as he walked through the kitchen area. She was busily preparing dinner. “Done down there already?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled.

His frustration must have been evident because his mother looked at him squarely. “Everything alright?”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” His mother’s scrutinizing look ate away at his resistances, though. “Just feeling a little lonely, Mom,” he finally admitted, leaning on the counter.

“Lonely?” she inquired. “How so?”

With a shrug, Scott tried to pass off his feelings as nothing. “Just…a lot of my friends have girlfriends, Mom. Can’t hang out with them, don’t have a girlfriend of my own to spend time with.”

His mother smiled. “Well, don’t worry,” she said comfortingly. “It’ll happen for you, son.” She chopped up a couple more vegetables. “Besides,” she philosophized, adding them to the boiling pot, “relationships are like farts: if you have to force them, they’re probably crap.”

Scott laughed. His mother was affable and had a good sense of humour. He got along much better with her than with his father. He respected his dad, to be sure, but close was something they were not. He had an intense job which kept him late more often than not, and when he did get home, he was usually so exhausted that he really didn’t want to do much other than have dinner, drink a couple beers, watch some TV and go to bed. When weekends rolled around, his father was on the phone a lot of the time, or resolving concerns via email. There really wasn’t much time for the two of them to interact and get to know one another.

Scott often wondered if his father treated his mother just as apathetically. He didn’t see much of the spark between them that they had had when he was younger. His father was usually distant and distracted while they were in the same room, hardly paying much attention to his wife. Did it extend behind closed doors, too?

His mother was still smiling. “Thanks, Mom,” he chuckled again at her joke. “I’ll remember that.”

She turned back to the meal as Scott walked around the corner to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and sat down at his desk, pondering over his current state of affairs. Then, an idea hit him. Quickly, he grabbed a pen and paper and set to work making a list of all the girls he knew who were currently single and available, within his circle of friends (or at least acquaintances) and in whom he could affirm he had at least an identifiable interest. In a school where there were five hundred seniors like him, it couldn’t be that hard to fulfill the criteria.

In a matter of minutes, he had compiled a large list and set to purging it to its most likely candidates. Soon, he had a roster of a dozen girls he knew he could ask out on at least a single date. Scott was convinced that at least one of them would say yes. If things went well, maybe he would ask for another. Certainly out of all of them, it would yield a compatible prospect. He just had to muster the boldness to follow through with this plan.

Just as he pinned the list to his corkboard, Scott heard his mother call him. “Scott, Honey? Time for dinner.”

“Be right there, Mom,” he answered, though his focus was on the list in front of him. He read it over again, taking a deep, reassuring breath that he was bound to have success somewhere, before leaving his room and joining his mother at the dining table.

The first thing he noticed was the predictable absence of his father. “Dad working late again?” he asked needlessly.

Scott’s mother looked up at him. “What was your first clue?” she answered sardonically.

“Yeah…”

She shook her head passively at him. “Don’t get on his case too much, Son. He has an important job,” she complimented her husband. “Health and safety isn’t something to be taken lightly. And it provides well.”

“I kinda liked his old job better,” Scott admitted with a dismissive shrug.

His mother smiled. “Oh, that’s several years ago now,” she remarked. “I doubt it would still be available.”

“I know,” agreed Scott. “I just feel like I knew him better then.”

“You and me both.”

That was his mother; almost always soft spoken. Rarely did Scott ever hear a negative word come out of her mouth about anyone or anything, and even when he did, it was almost always spoken with compassion, a sort of constructive criticism. She didn’t sugarcoat truth or honesty; his mother was blunt, but she just gave her assessment in doses that were easy to handle.

“He could probably get something similar somewhere,” theorized Scott, hoping that, just maybe, the message would be relayed to his father.

The idea was halted in its tracks. “Probably,” admitted his mother. “But he likes what he does. You know that.”

Scott nodded solemnly. “Yeah, I know.”

Sitting down, Scott dished up his meal of a pasta casserole and steamed vegetables. He bit in and instantly loved it. His mother was a fantastic cook, and regularly produced meals without any recipe in front of her at all. She loved to experiment, but always seemed to have a knack for the perfect balance of spices, salt or sweetness. It was a trait that Scott had come to admire.

They made their way slowly through their meals; Scott’s mind was elsewhere whenever his mother tried to initiate a conversation with him about his job or school. Finally, she honed in on his detached concentration and asked what was on his mind.

Scott took a deep breath. “Mom, what’s your first impression of me when you look at me?” he asked, setting his cutlery down more brusquely than he had intended. The frustration he harboured still boiled near the surface from earlier.

His mother smiled wryly and scrutinized him with her eyes. Scott felt like she could see right through him. “You mean, if I was a girl at school, would I find you attractive?” she deduced succinctly.

The precise conclusion threw off Scott’s guard. “Well…I—” he stammered, not knowing how exactly to respond to her appraisal. “Yeah…I guess that’s what I’m asking,” he relented after a brief moment of silence.

“Son, I sure would. Why wouldn’t I?” She leaned in over the table, looking at him intently. “You’ve got a decent physique, or at least an average build. You’re 5’10” yeah?” Scott nodded. “And, what are you, 200lbs?”

“About that, yeah,” he responded.

“See? Nothing to be ashamed of there. You’ve got good arm and leg muscles to show it,” she admired, rubbing one of his arms. “Your sandy-coloured hair curls naturally over your ears. Your blue eyes are rather striking.”

Scott could feel his ears getting warm at all the praise. He wasn’t used to it, though his mother regularly said things like this. It felt like it didn’t have a lot of weight to it; not that it was fake or forced – far from – but it was almost expected. She was his mother, after all. Scott felt that these sorts of things would hold much more meaning from someone who wasn’t related to him, after all.

“You’re a handsome guy, Scott,” his mother finished. “On top of that, you’re thoughtful and caring. I think any girl would be lucky to have you as her boyfriend.”

A puff of a laugh shot out his nostrils. “You have to say that because you’re my mom,” he insisted.

“No, I get to say it because I’m your mom,” she corrected him congenially. “I have to say it because it’s true.”

“Hm.”

“Well,” his mother scoffed with a slight reproach in her voice, “don’t ask a question like that if you’re not willing to accept the compliment.”

A slight smile crossed Scott’s face. “I guess.”

“Do you have a specific girl in mind?” his mother asked him, taking another bite of her food. Scott shrugged. Swallowing, she asked, “What about that girl in your math class, the one you helped to fundraise with last year.”

Scott knew exactly whom his mother was referring to. She had come over from time to time to discuss different aspects of the fundraiser, and had met his mother on several occasions. She was certainly pretty – and, coincidentally, was one of the girls he had put on his list.

“Well, she’s a possibility,” he tried to acknowledge without giving too much emphasis, “but not necessarily.”

His mother narrowed her eyes. “You have more than one in mind?”

Scott tried to suppress the smile coming to his lips. How was his mother so intuitive? “Kinda,” he replied.

“Only one girlfriend at a time, Scott,” his mother admonished. He’d heard this warning before, but humoured his mother and allowed her to say it all once again. “You can play the field, just don’t try and score if you’re not sure she’s the one you want.”

“I know,” he answered, smiling at the analogy. “No, it’s not really like that, though,” he stated. “I just made a list of some girls that I’m thinking of asking out.”

“Oh, I see,” replied his mother. “Well, don’t let them know that.”

Scott frowned. “Why?”

“No girl wants to feel like she’s an afterthought or second place to another girl.”

“Oh,” Scott exclaimed, realizing the possibility of this situation for the first time. He shook his head and explained, “Well, it’s not really in any particular order.”

“They don’t know that,” his mother smiled. “Just be careful with girls’ hearts, Scott.”

“I will, Mom,” he promised. “I’m just looking for a first date at this point. Nothing more.”

“Well, good luck,” she wished him, quickly adding with a wink, “not that you’ll need it.”

Scott chuckled with his mother, and they delved back into their dinner. With his most pressing thoughts alleviated somewhat, the mealtime conversation flowed with much more ease. Scott was grateful for his mother’s listening ear.

True to his form, Scott’s father arrived home from his job nearly two hours later – just in time to go to bed. He took some leftovers and a beer from the fridge and had dinner before watching some television and then retired to his room, presumably to watch some more television before falling asleep.

Scott had been in his room the whole time, watching from afar, working on some homework due Monday. Before he got himself ready for bed, he happened to catch his mother’s eye as she headed for the master bedroom upstairs. For an instant, he could see a weary, forlorn look, the kind someone would exhibit when feeling lonely and ignored. It disappeared instantly when their eyes met, and Scott’s mother gave him a loving smile before following her husband to the bedroom.

Scott recounted the evening, and realized that there was hardly a moment where his mother and father had shared together. They’d barely even said two words to one another. It concerned him as he thought of just how unstable their marriage might be. Returning to his room, he shut the door, undressed for bed and crawled into his sheets, trying desperately not to think about the mute conflict he had been a witness to.

The remainder of the weekend passed quickly, soon giving way to Monday morning. The bright, clear dawn filled Scott with vigour and confidence. When he woke up, he jumped out of bed, showered, had breakfast and then hurried to review his list for the millionth time since its inception. He knew off by heart the girls he had selected to try and ask out. He had practiced – in front of the mirror, in the shower and wherever else he was at while no one was watching – what he would say to each girl.

He drew in an invigorating breath. At least one would say yes. He knew it!

School classes were dull and boring in comparison to his quest for female companionship. His fulminating courage convinced him he could not lose, and he couldn’t wait to prove it to himself. His first class, math, seemed to take much longer than usual. Finally when it ended – forty-seven hours later, it seemed – he nearly leaped out of his seat to catch up with the first of the girls he had chosen to ask out.

“Oh, Scott…I’m sorry…” she apologized after he presented his proposition. “I actually just started going out with someone last week.”

“Oh…” responded Scott in surprise. “Well, that’s ok. Don’t worry about it. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Yeah,” she answered him. “If I hadn’t started dating him, I’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

They ended their conversation cordially, and Scott was soon off to his next class. History went marginally faster than math had, but it was still painfully long. The next, English, followed suit with the first two. It was all Scott could do to pay attention in either class. He was insanely anxious to get to lunch where he knew another of his prospects would be. A sister of a friend, she was a couple years younger than him, but still remarkably cute and wonderfully social.

He met with disappointment yet again.

She cringed politely when he asked her out. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Scott,” she answered him. “I’ve actually got plans this weekend. Our family’s getting together with some friends that are in town for the weekend and we’re all going to the zoo and stuff.”

“Oh…” responded Scott to another letdown. “Yeah, I guess that’d be fun, too.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I’m glad you asked, though. Maybe some other time.”

Scott nodded amiably. “That could work.”

After lunch, Scott had a computer class that the girl’s older brother also attended. After a short lecture, they were let loose to practice what they’d been taught on their own.

“Hey, man,” Scott asked his friend during a lull in the class. “Is your family going to the zoo this weekend?”

His friend’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No! Not that I’ve heard,” he laughed heartily.

“No friends of the family coming into town?”

“No,” he laughed again. “Where did you hear that?”

“Just the rumour on the street,” deflected Scott. “Thought I’d heard it.”

“I don’t even think it’s open for the season yet, is it?”

The painful truth added insult to injury. “You might be right,” agreed Scott, trying not to demonstrate how glum he was feeling.

Scott promised himself that he’d try one more time that day before going home. The conversation was derailed almost instantly, much to his dismay. He’d no sooner hinted at the possibility of going out the coming weekend when, without missing a beat, the girl shot his efforts right out of the sky.

“That would be a great idea! This is why I love being friends with you, Scott! You come up with the best things for everyone to do together.” There had been a subtle, but unmasked emphasis on that dreaded F-word: friends.

Scott didn’t push the issue after that remark.

After getting home, Scott retired to his room almost instantly. He took the sheet with the girls’ names on it down from his board and scratched off the three names. One taken, one liar and one friendzone. It hadn’t been a good day, but he wasn’t done yet. Looking over the names again, he began mentally preparing for another bout. There was plenty of opportunity left.

Unfortunately, Tuesday’s efforts went down in flames, just like Monday’s, then Wednesday’s. By the time Thursday morning rolled around, Scott had started thinking that there was some giant conspiracy meant to keep him from getting a girlfriend. By Friday afternoon, he was as good as convinced.

Twelve girls asked, and twelve times declined. Scott made it home with a heart feeling like lead. He didn’t care how ‘macho’ he was supposed to be as a guy. The constant rejection hurt, and he had to let the pain out. He had no sooner closed his door than he threw himself on his bed and released his frustrations into his pillow. He cried, knowing he had done his best and failed miserably. All it would have taken was a single yes, but the cascade of nos brought his emotions to their knees. In the privacy of his own room, he wept something fierce. His only solace was that he was home alone.

Or so he thought.

There was a light knock on the door. “Scott, Honey?” he heard his mother appeal through the door. “Is that you?”

Scott cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he answered, trying to keep his voice from wavering. “Didn’t know you were home, Mom.”

“Can I come in?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he invited.

The door opened slowly. Scott’s mother poked her head in, an inquisitive, concerned look on her face. “Scott,” she addressed him, seeing his swollen, red eyes. “What’s wrong?”

His manly countermeasures kicked into gear. “Nothing,” he blocked her out. “Just a bad day at school.”

She looked at him sideways. He knew she was trying to analyze him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered, coming over to sit on the end of his bed.