Leaving the Nest Ch. 01

This is a work of pure fiction – all characters are over 18.

Please read Leaving the Nest – Prologue before this chapter.

"I've decided that if I get the contract at Trefallen, I'm going to look for a place of my own."

I had gone over exactly how I was going to announce my intention to my family at least a hundred times in my head last night. I had even written down a few ideas so I could read them back to myself and judge the best, but in the end I decided to just come out with it. The next bit was choosing the time. You see, when you live in a close-knit family like I do, making earth-shattering (for us, at least) decisions without discussion is a kind of a no-no. The only problem is, being so close-knit its hard sometimes to get that little bit of drive, that independence you need to get on in life. I mean, I'm nineteen and unless I get up before dawn, I won't even get chance to empty my clothes hamper as my mother will have already beaten me to it. I know, I know, trivial concerns, but for a young man about to strike out on his own, knowing how to work a washing machine is a pretty good bit of knowledge to have.

Anyway, I digress, so I made the announcement just after everyone had finished eating a wonderful roast gammon meal and were picking bits of it out of their teeth, well, Jennifer was. My father was patting his belly and refilling his glass of orange and my mother had taken our plates to the sink. After my announcement, the dishes stopped banging, the air seemed to deaden and the silence was almost deafening.

"Dan's got a brochure," I went on, referring to my team mate and good friend Daniel Goddard. "You know those new apartments on Ronson Street?" I didn't wait for an answer, I needed to justify my announcement and show it wasn't just a rash decision. "Well, apparently they're renting out the smallest block at reduced rates, fully furnished and ideal for students or people on scholarships." There, that was pretty much it. Looking up from a pea I had left on the table I noticed my sister was looking at me with an odd expression, like she had a funny taste in her mouth. My Dad was just staring at me, a slight frown marring the front part of the smooth dome of his head. My Mum on the other hand hadn't turned around, but her arms were still in the sink, so I know she heard me.

"Are you sure?"

Finally, someone spoke after what seemed like fucking hours. Jeez, talk about tense. I exhaled and turned to the speaker. "Dad, I think it's time I branched out a bit. I've been thinking about it for a while, now." Okay, that's not strictly true and maybe the fact that Dan had asked about sharing an apartment had kind of swayed me, but itwasa good idea. "It's closer to the training ground and there's even a gym being fitted out on site."

More silence followed. Uncomfortable, numbing silence. I had no idea why I was so nervous, but I almost felt sick waiting for a response. I saw Dad's shoulders lift and fall quickly before he spoke again.

"Have you got that brochure? I'll take a look and..."

BANG!

One of the large roasting tins crashed onto the counter top and Mum turned and stormed out of the kitchen. I could see Dad's face fall and Jen was near-panting, recovering from the shock.

Dad's chair slid back from the table and he stood up. "Go and get the brochure, Bruno. I'll talk to your mother."

"Thanks, Dad," I muttered and slid my own chair back. I was just about to stand up when slim fingers caught my wrist.

"Kept that one a secret, didn't you," Jen said with a twinge of annoyance. "I knew something was eating at you other than this contract."

I sighed and eased my arm out of her grip. "It wasn't eating at me and I needed to make sure I was certain before I said anything." Standing up I picked up the pea I had left and threw it towards the bin, Naturally it missed by a mile. "Dan told me about it a few weeks back," I offered and went to hunt for the rogue legume.

"Still could have said something to me," she countered, hurt. "I could have prepared Mum."

That made me think for a second. "You think Mum's really that upset?"

"I'm not sure. Not like her to get like that, is it? Scared me half to death."

I turned as Jen leaned beside me and picked up the errant pea. "I wonder why she got so pissed?" I mused aloud. "It's not as though its set in stone."

She shrugged and dropped the pea in the bin. "Go get that brochure and finish the dishes off." She pointed to the sink. "That'll soften Mum up."

"Good idea." I flashed her a smile and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Jen."

"Uh-huh."

Mum and Dad were sat in the lounge when I brought the brochure. Neither of them were speaking, but they were both seemingly watching the news on the TV. "Um... here Dad," I said, handing him the booklet. "I'll um..." God, this was just so awkward. Mum wasn't even looking at me, a bad sign. Luckily Dad gave me a smile as he took the brochure and made a motion with his other hand, nodding at my mother. I got it! "Oh, I'll put the kettle on... Cup of tea, Mum?"

"Coffee," she replied, her voice even and rather emotionless.

Both me and Dad looked at her in surprise. She never drank coffee. "Okay," I said slowly. "How many sugars?" I looked to Dad for help, but he looked as lost as I felt.

"One and not much milk, I want it strong." She turned then. "Please."

You know that feeling you get when you're in trouble for something you think you may have done, but don't actually know if you've been found out? Well, that's exactly how I felt right then. Nodding, I turned to head back to the kitchen.

"Where's your sister?" Mum asked.

"In her room," I replied. "On Facebook, probably."

She nodded. "Are you going out tonight?"

"Not tonight. There's a film on at eight I fancy watching."

Mum nodded again. "What are you doing tonight, Charlie?"

Looking up from the brochure, Dad shrugged. "I might do some of the pre-order work and I have to e-mail that company in Portsmouth. I forgot to do it earlier."

Mum nodded a third time, apparently satisfied before turning to me. "I'll watch your film with you," she told me with a smile.

That threw me a bit, but I wasn't going to ruin the first parley since my announcement. "Sure, Mum, but it's Sci-Fi."

"It'll do," she returned, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. "We can watch it down here."

Dad looked at her then, possibly surprised by her interest. She liked period dramas and cop shows, not fantasy or Sci-Fi. He gave me a 'humour her' look and went back to his reading.

Walking back to the kitchen I knew right then that there was something not quite right with my mother.

Bringing the drinks in on a tray I put Dad's huge mug of tea (Jen and I got it for Father's Day last month, it had an elephant farting with the caption 'Leave me alone, it's Fart-er's Day!") on the table beside his recliner and turned Mum's cup of coffee in my hand so I could offer her the cool handle. "I hope it's okay," I said, looking at the dark caramel liquid inside. "Where's Dad?"

"Getting his files from the car." She took the cup and sipped before wincing. "Ah, that's hot."

"Came from a hot place," I said, smiling and hoping things were back to normal.

"Funny," she muttered, putting her cup on the end table beside her. "You serious about this?"

I saw her recently-trimmed fore-fingernail tap the brochure beside her on the couch. I didn't notice it there when I came in and she couldn't have read through it properly in the time it took me to make the drinks. "I think it's a step I have to take if I want to get on in life, Mum. I have to leave the nest at..."

"No you don't," she said simply, now running her finger up and down the glossy cover, stopping on the 'Bardon Housing' logo. She looked up at me and her eyes looked large and luminous, like two chestnuts. "You don't ever have to leave me."

"I..." But I stopped. Leave her? What was she on about?

"You might think you want this, but you don't."

We just stared at each other for a minute. I hadn't a clue what she meant by that or the thing about leaving her and I didn't want to risk an argument or worse by questioning it, so I chose to say nothing. I watched her expression, like she watched mine. Her eyes were searching my face, almost like she was committing me to memory and for some reason I felt compelled to just stare right back at her. A sudden rogue and completely random thought entered my mind right then, just as we heard Dad bang something in the hallway that led from the garage. I blushed and sat down at the other end of the couch, where I usually park myself, trying to push that particular thought out of my head. I mean, why all of a sudden would I think my Mum was pretty? Maybe I'm stressed and I don't know it.

"Jen are you coming down to watch the film?" I asked, nudging my sister's door open with my foot after knocking yet again. "Jen?"

She was in there sat at her computer desk, ear buds in, air-guitaring to whatever band was rattling her eardrums at the time while some update or download was progressing across her monitor. Chuckling, I backed out and left her to it before grabbing my towel from the airing cupboard and heading to the bathroom. There were twenty minutes or so before the film started and after the minor staring competition, things seemed okay between me and Mum again. She had just had her shower and was on the phone to one of her friends when I left her. Dad had just moved to the kitchen with his laptop where he was no doubt listening to all the smooth and laid-back hits of the seventies and eighties on the radio while doing his paperwork. All-in-all it was just another Tuesday evening in the Martinez household and as I stepped into the steaming spray I decided to just let the evening progress without mentioning moving out unless of course Mum mentioned it first. I mean, it has to be coming, she has to be at least thinking about it rationally. Mum's practicality is near legendary, nothing fazes her and she's always level-headed, hence why the storm-out after dinner seemed so out of character. Maybe Dad has seen her crack under pressure more times than us, but you have to admit that even he seemed at a bit of a loss. Anyway, that was then and I'm determined to enjoy my film and probably get an early night. Wednesdays were vigorous on the training ground, midweek practice matches included and a good rest the night before was a must. So I washed away the toil of the day, dressed in my trusty old grey cotton pyjama bottoms and a faded black wrestling T-shirt and headed back down to the lounge feeling fresh and relaxed.

"You're just in time," Mum said, curled up in her corner of the couch. Like me, she was dressed in her finest evening wear. Pink and white striped pyjama bottoms that always reminded me of toothpaste and her favourite long, white cardigan that she seemed to have over her shoulders at least once a day, or she had about twenty of the same thing, who knows. Under it would either be the pyjama top, or a vest or something. I noticed that the brochure had gone, too, her feet were now it its place. "What's this film about?"

Realising I was just stood there staring at her, I sat down and drew my feet up under myself in a kind of mirror image to Mum. "It's about this bloke who betrays his captain and tries to take their ship into a black hole in the hope of gaining immortality." I chuckled, wondering if there was a future for me as an announcer on a TV channel if the football career didn't pan out. I noticed Mum was looking at me incredulously.

"Seriously?" she asked, her fine eyebrows making a dash north on her forehead. "Immortality in a black hole?"

I shrugged defensively. "The trailer for it looked good and its a big..."

"Who's in it?" She asked, smiling.

"Um..." Strange how its then you realise there are no major stars in it. I gasped as a cushion hit me square in the chest.

"That's for making me watch a load of crap."

I gave her the most astonished and mockingly hurt look I could muster. "It might be the next big thing."

She poked her tongue out at me. "It might also be the next big pile of shit."

I frowned then, realising something. "Hey, I didn't make you watch this, you decided..." I stopped when her hand went up.

"You made me watch it by coming out with that crap at dinner." She opened her cardigan and began shrugging it off. "Like it or not, mister, I'm going to prove to you that everything you need is right here in front of you." She turned then, looking for the other cushion. "Where's the..."

My eyes widened and I couldn't help but stare. Under her cardigan she wore a simple plain vest, fairly loose fitting and stark white in colour. With her turned as she was, slightly away from me, arms stretched to the side reaching for what I assumed to be the other cushion, her right breast was displayed in full profile straining against the fabric. That in itself was enough to force a double-take, but most surprisingly was the clear-cut evidence that the vest was all she was wearing. Cresting the very front of the taut fabric was a rather prominent lump of a hard nipple. A strained groan brought me out of my reverie and my eyes flicked off her tit just as she flounced back into place, face flushed and hair slight dishevelled. "You okay?" I managed to ask, forcing my calm. I couldn't believe I was just ogling my own mother.

"Yeah, the cushion had fallen." She dropped in on her lap and proceeded to reach behind her head to fix her loosened ponytail.

Once again I found myself looking at her tits just as a burst of strange orchestral music blasted out of the TV.

"Film's starting," she said, tightening her bobble before turning to me and smiling.

Blushing profusely, I settled myself and turned to the screen. What a fucking moron, staring at her tits, then probably getting caught doing so. Fuck the fact that she didn't seem maddened by it, or if she even had caught me. The fact I was actually doing it was just... well, just wrong. Well, what a great start to the relaxing evening that was, I ended up so angry with myself, that I missed the 'Captain's Log'-style narration at the start of the film.

An hour in and I hated to say that Mum was right. The film was shit. Both of us had groaned at the cheesy script on a number of occasions, the fight scenes had some of the worst 'play fights' ever and the plot pretty much made no sense at all. Apparently the mutineer could only attain immortality if he let his dead wife go, or some such horeshit. Honestly, it was that bad.

"Turn it off or over," I suggested as the film stopped for a break. "Please, before I try to find my own black hole to jump in."

Mum grinned like the cat that got the cream. "Told you so," she said, leaning over the cushion on her lap to pick the remote up off the coffee table. "Just for that I should make you watch an hour of my programs on catch-up."

"You wouldn't," I said, pretending to be shocked. I can deal with the cop ones, some of them are pretty good, but not the period crap. The look she gave me right then was just plain strange. If I can sum it up in words it was an: 'I would happily resort to torture to get my own way' kind of look.

"You doubt me?" she asked, dropping the remote and moving the cushion off her lap with deliberate slowness. All the while her eyes never left mine. "Do you?"

"Um..." I began, seriously at a loss. I watched her turn and move into a crawling position right beside me, trying not to notice that her vest was now gaping wide open at the neck. Stay focused on her face, I kept telling myself. Her face, her eyes, her face, her tits. Shit... It happened, I dropped my gaze and saw both big globes just hanging there with the gold chain she always wears dangling in front of them. Damn they were huge in that position.

"You won't find solace in there, kiddo."

That floored me. Fucking Hell, she knew where I was looking. She caught me looking down her front. Of course I turned the darkest shade of crimson known to man and of course I lifted my eyes from the obvious only to find she was smiling, actually fucking smiling at me. Suddenly her hands shot out into my sides and she started tickling me. I was too mortified by getting caught and too embarrassed to react so she got a full on grip of my ticklish spot and made an absolute meal of it.

"That's... for... making... me... watch... an... hour... of ... shit..."

Every word brought a fresh dig into my ribs, making me howl with laughter so hard I couldn't even find to pleas to make her stop. Even the strangeness of the whole tickling thing was lost me at that point. She wasn't a very affectionate type as a rule and I can't honestly remember the last time I had even a hug from her, but here she was, so far out of her usual character that if I was observing I probably would have thought I was dreaming. But I wasn't, the digs were very real. She knew exactly where to get me and if she didn't stop soon I was going to end up choking.

"Yield?" she asked, basically throwing herself over my hastily tightening defensive-ball posture.

"Yes," I wheezed, but it was barely above a whisper and cut short by another peal of uncontrollable gasping laughter. She dug in afresh, caught a nerve and I kicked out, sending my empty my mug clattering off the table and thankfully onto the soft pile rug instead of the hardwood floor.

"Mum!" I managed to gasp, but she was relentless. How the Hell I managed to stay alive, I'll never know, but she was in her element it seemed and her hands were everywhere. My ribs, my sides, my belly, she even dug her fingers into the tops of my thighs, a weak spot I didn't even know I had. Looking back I realise she's deceitfully strong and if there were tickling competitions, she could take the prize in a heartbeat.

"Payback," was all she kept replying to my wheezing pleas.

"What on earth is going on in here?" Dad's voice was laced with amusement. "Gabbi, what are you doing to the poor boy?"

"He made me watch the shittiest film ever, so I'm..." She grabbed both my thighs making me yelp hoarsely. "I'm making him suffer."

Dad just burst out laughing. "You might want to make him breathe, babe, his face is redder than a slapped arse."

I could hardly hear anything, what with the blood pounding in my head, probably from the lack of oxygen. Eventually, she let up, sitting back with a look of absolute joy on her heat-flushed face.

"I got you good, mister," she said in a comically bad American accent.

I was gulping in breaths like there was no tomorrow, grabbing my aching sides and moaning. "I ache all over."

"You're own fault," she chided with a grin.

I opened my eyes to see that Dad was gone and Mum was just sat there with her hands folded in her lap, looking at me with such a pleased expression I had to smile back. "I don't think I deserved that much tickling, Mum."

"Oh, you're going to get a lot more than you deserve, baby-boy." She slid off the couch and picked up my cup. "I'm going to make us a hot chocolate and then you have to have an hour of whatever I decide to watch."

I looked at the clock and saw that it was nearly twenty-past nine. "Okay," I relented, fearing another tickling if I didn't. She had a very odd glint in her eye.

Mum nodded and then did something so surprising, I almost fell of the couch. Picking up her own cup, she eased back past and leaned over me, giving me a kiss on the cheek before departing. I watched her go, mouth agape and starting wondering what the Hell was going on. Tickling, kissing... so not my Mum at all.

She came back with Dad, who was sporting his own cup of hot chocolate which he took to his recliner and settled in.

"Glad I'm done for the night," he said, shifting his chair into the lounge position. "So, what are we watching?"

"You'll see," Mum said, mysteriously as she carefully put my cup down on the table.