Sudden Trouble

I flinched when Charles opened the door almost immediately after. "By the way, honey—thanks for having Finn put my desk together, it looks great." He said.

"Huh?" I grunted.

He pointed somewhere. "The desk in my office. Finn put it together for me didn't he? I know you didn't do it."

I nodded, mouth hanging open. "Yeah. No problem."

He smiled before closing the door again and I darted to the room in question. Pushing the door open enough so that I could pop my head in, I gasped when I spotted the brand new mahogany desk sitting in the middle of the room looking shiny and freshly assembled. His old tacky blue desk was in the corner, looking as hideous as it did when he bought it a few years ago. I pulled the door shut slowly and took a few calming breaths.

"Okay..." I mumbled to myself. Apparently Finn was here yesterday and he was here long enough to assemble that desk perfectly. Only problem is...I don't remember that happening at all.

In the kitchen, I began chopping up the vegetables that I washed, all the while thinking of how I was going to explain this entire situation to my husband. "You see the thing is..." I said aloud to the empty kitchen. "I...was under the influence for the past couple of days...doped up on some very heavy narcotics that our son brought into our home." I shook my head, holding up my hand which had a death grip on the knife I was chopping with. "No, no. It was my mistake for eating something in his room without asking him first...but on the other hand why the fuck does a 19-year-old boy practically have a drug den underneath his bed? Argh!" I groaned. No matter how I spun this...it was not going to turn out well.

"Darling I think our son may be a drug dealer." I tried again, stomping my foot when my words finally sank in. "Damn it!" I threw the carrots and asparagus into the pot with the rest of my vegetables and turned the heat low.

I went back upstairs and started changing out of my work clothes and into some workout ones. I slipped on a pair of my spandex jogging pants and the blue tank top that matched before pulling my hair into a high ponytail. Charles was singing in the shower and rolled my eyes as I popped the ear buds to my iPod in and turned it on. "I'm going for a jog, Charles." I called out.

"Alright." He replied merrily and continued on to the second verse of Sweet Caroline.

The sun wasn't beating down as hard this evening so it was a perfect time for a run. After stretching every which way on my doorstep I took off down the street.

I couldn't believe what I'd done. My poor boy must be so traumatized. He can't be nearly as much as I am while I silently contemplate death for the 6^th time this week. I really, really needed to give him a call and speak with him. I needed to make sure he was alright. I just wasn't going to do it any time soon. Or possibly ever.

Perhaps it could go this way: I never speak of this again and he, being the passive obedient son that he is, plays along! It's just so dodgy and twisted that it could actually work, right?

A new song began to blast in my eardrums as the idea slowly became more and more ludicrous in my head.

I am a horrible, horrible wife and an even worse mother.

I stopped abruptly and pressed my palm against a light post as I attempted to catch my breath, not even noticing how far away from my home I'd gotten—almost 5 blocks. I groaned and moaned for a little while longer before pushing away from the post and continuing back in the direction I came from.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been almost 2 weeks since the incident and I was growing more paranoid with each passing, silent day. I hadn't seen or even heard from Finn since the Friday before last. No calls, no visits, no news. Since moving out of the house for college Charles and I would sometimes go months without seeing him but no less than a week without hearing from him. He was a busy person with the difficult classes he had, added to the fact that he worked part-time at a sportswear store downtown. The events of that night didn't deter my worry, either.

What if he never speaks to me again? Could I even blame him if he did?

I was curled onto my couch in the living room with a fluffy blanket draped across my legs while the television played re-runs of Law & Order. My attention was elsewhere, though, as I glued my eyes to the cellular device in my hand. I'd had Finn's contact information open and was staring at it for the longest time, battling with whether I should call him or not.

'This was not a conversation that was wisest to engage in over the phone' was the fuel keeping me from hitting the call button just beneath my shaky thumb.

My phone glinted to life as I stared down and Bev's picture splayed across my screen. I connected the call immediately. "Hey," I said tiredly.

"Hey Eve, what are your plans looking like for this Saturday?" She asked.

I had no work this weekend, my hands were empty. "Pretty much what I'm doing now... Nothing. Why?"

"That's fantastic. Joaquin and I are having a cookout and you have to drop by. We're having all of my friends and his friends over so it'll be a rather chatty affair."

"Isn't it a bit too hot for a barbeque, Eve?" I said sullenly. If at all possible, it was getting hotter every day.

She giggled, "That's what makes it perfect, don't you think?"

"Alright then, I'll see if Charles can make it. He's been swamped with work lately. I think his hair is beginning to fall out." I said as I picked my nails.

"Spectacular! Oh—don't forget to bring Finlay as well. The twins have been asking about him like all the time."

I blanched at the sound of my sons name, felt my lips pull into a thin line. "Of course," I said, dryly.

Finn used to babysit the twins ages ago, when he was in high school. They took more than a liking to him and more or less adopted the boy as their older brother. Since Finn has no siblings he was more than willing to adopt them right back.

"You alright, Eve? You sound morbid." She asked, and I could hear the sound of pots clanking around in the background from her maybe cooking dinner.

"Right as rain." I lied, forcing a smile through my voice.

"You do know that rain can fall in all kinds of directions, right?"

I sighed and said before ending the call, "I'll see you Saturday, Bev."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hadn't been to my son's residence hall at his school since we moved him in last year and even then—it was awkward. This is why I felt an enormous amount of discomfort as I weaved my way through the loud and boisterous young men and women moving through the entrance to the corridor that my son lived in.

Most of them paid me no mind; a lot of the young men gave me a double take as they looked me up and down. I wasn't exactly dressed very conservatively today. I had court earlier this morning and decided to dress as nicely as I could, considering my client was going to jail no matter what. He was a master thief and didn't necessarily deny it, case closed in less than 2 hours.

When I thought I'd have a fighting chance, I'd dress a lot more dully and in much tanner colors. Today I had a white blouse with one of the tightest black pencil skirts I owned, it came just above my knees. The skirt was silky and had nice pocket flaps because I loved putting things in my pockets...mostly my hands. On my feet was a pair of agreeable black Louboutin's, not too high but high enough to gouge an eye out with.

Seeing all of these shameless glances from children half my age makes me think I probably should have went home and changed first. Coming here was on complete impulse. Right after I got out of court I got in my car and without realizing it drove straight here. It was going on 10 a.m. and it was a Thursday, so there was a good chance he might not be here. If so, I'd try again tomorrow at a more reasonable time.

What are you thinking, Yvonne? Is what I thought to myself as I approached room 47A, my son's dorm room, and held my hand out to knock. I hesitated, but only for a second, and then began rapping at the wooden surface. I fiddled with my car keys in hand as I waited, growing anxious and preparing myself mentally.

When the door pulled open I was not greeted with my son but instead a boy with jet black hair that was clearly dyed by someone who doesn't know anything about hair and wide, blood shot brown eyes. The boy had silver loops all the way up his left ear, another one in his nose, and a barbell through his left eyebrow.

Jeez...

"Holy shit," He gasped and his eyes raked my form up and down. "You are disgustingly gorgeous, ma'am. Please tell me that there is a possibility of you having sex with me in the immediate future."

"There isn't." I said swiftly and unfazed, tilting my head to look over his shoulder. "Is Finlay Scott here? I need to speak with him."

"He's asleep."

I pushed the door open with my forearm and he backed away. "What's going on? Are you a debt collector or something?"

The room was like day and night. One side was a complete pigsty with clothes spread all over the floor, empty beer cans and other junk littered it. The other side was clean and spotless, not a book was out of place, and the carpet was stark white. It was imperceptibly split down the middle. Where the junk began, a line to the spotless floor contrasted.

On the clean side, I spotted my son in bed with his face buried into his pillow, one arm hanging off the side of the mattress and nearly touching the floor—his breathing slow and even as his shirtless back moved up and down.

I moved over to him and pulled the comforter off of his body and bunched it at his feet. "Get up." I prodded, none too subtlety, and nudged his side.

He groaned, pushing his head deeper into the pillow and refusing to even look up. "Finlay Adler Scott you get your ass up now!" I seethed, pinching the skin on his shoulder between my skin-tone painted fingertips. He jolted to life at the pain, grunting and sitting up straight with his eyes still squeezed shut and his brows furrowed.

"Wait a second...are you Finn's mom?" The black-haired boy asked disbelievingly. I ignored him, focusing only on my son.

Finn's eyes popped open almost instantaneously when he heard that. He looked up at me with those clear blue orbs that looked just like my husband's. "Mom?" His voice was scratchy, barely audible, and distant. "What...what's...?" He struggled, his eyes fluttering shut as he attempted to collect his thoughts. He swayed softly, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

"No classes today?" I asked eagerly, wondering why he was still in bed at 10 in the afternoon.

Finn didn't really make an effort to respond to that question so I didn't bother pressing it. His attendance was not the reason I was here right now. "Get dressed. We have some catching up to do."

I waited outside of the door and 10 minutes later Finn emerged, fully dressed and groomed but still looking half asleep. He pulled the door shut and locked it with a key before looking over to me and shrugging in a 'what the heck is going on' kind of way.

My mouth pulled into a frown and I turned away, "Let's get you some coffee first." I mumbled and began walking to the exit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slid into the car and passed a steaming hot cup of coffee over to Finn. He took it gratefully, thanking me under his breath. I didn't really drink coffee...didn't like the way it tasted no matter how much cream and sugar I put inside. I was more of a tea person.

Finn drank his black, though, like Charles...so it was easy to run into the café and fetch for him while he sit silently in the car looking half-dead. "When you were little, I used to think that you might be hypoglycemic. You're just not a morning person, are you?" I sighed, looking at him apologetically. "Sorry for the rude awakening."

He'd popped the lid off of his coffee and was slowly gulping it without reprimand. "What's up, Mom?" He asked quietly, looking down into his cup as he drank.

I puffed my cheeks out and blew air through them. "First of all—thanks for putting your father's desk together like I asked, it looks nice."

He froze for a moment, but then seemed to recover offering only, "Don't worry about it." I contemplated asking him what that huge pause was for but didn't want to get too off topic.

I righted myself, clearing my throat. "Now, to the weird part of this conversation."

Finn didn't seem fazed at all by that statement and only continued to stare down into his cup with a blank, unreadable expression on his face. "I haven't seen or heard from you in weeks..."

"Mom I've gone longer than that without visiting home, I don't see what that big deal is—"

I cut him off rather abruptly, "The big deal is you're avoiding me. Of course I know why, I'd avoid me too if I were you, but damn it Finlay—I'm your mother. How long do you intend to go without speaking to me?"

"I'm speaking to you now..." He grumbled.

"No you're not, you're just robotically replying to everything statement I make. This is hardly a conversation."

"If you wanted to talk to me you could have just called."

"Called? Called?! You really wanted to have this conversation over the phone?!" I scoffed.

His brows pulled in as he shrugged. "I...didn't want to have this conversation period."

"Well that's too damn bad because we're having it. Since when have you been afraid of confrontation? You've always been bull-headed and eager to talk about everything bothering you. Now you're shying away all of a sudden? You're turning into your father." I said annoyed, slamming my fist on the centerpiece between us.

He finally looked at me then, and I looked back with fire dancing in my heart. I didn't enjoy yelling at my son. He has always been the calmest, quietest, and well behaved child I've ever seen. It was incredibly difficult to be upset with him, but he was making it very easy right now.

He looked sad then, tortured almost. "What do want me to say? I'm sorry I brought drugs into the house, and I'm sorry you got wasted and lost your marbles?"

"That's my first question. Why did you have those drugs, Finn?" I tried to keep my voice steady but found it quivering anyway.

He leaned back into the car seat, placing the now-empty cup of coffee in one of the holders between us. "They're Doug's. He put them in my backpack by accident and I didn't notice they were in there until I got home and saw them."

"Doug?"

"My roommate? The pasty guy who answered the door earlier." I blinked then. I could completely believe that that strange looking boy was a druggie. What I couldn't believe was that he 'accidentally' put a bag with candy-laced drugs inside of something that didn't belong to him.

"How do you accidentally do something like that?"

He looked flabbergasted and uncaring. "Maybe he was high, I don't know?!"

I waited for a minute, mulling over whether I should ask or not. It slipped out before I even knew what I was doing. "Do you do them?"

He sighed, but surprised me when he answered, "Not frequently—no." Which meant that he has done drugs before?

"You're doing drugs?" I asked sadly, my tone laced with disappointment.

"Mom—do I look like a drug addict? No, I'm not 'doing' drugs." He air quoted.

"Why are you upset with me?" I asked incredulously.

"Did you seriously only come to my place to scold me about drugs? Because if that's all this is about, I feel like this conversation could have came and been done with weeks ago." He said and stared me down, his eyes piercing through me.

I felt my heart drop into my stomach and my skin grew cold. He was absolutely correct, but I was never going to admit that. It's been nearly two weeks and I've been dreading speaking to him, not because of what he'd done wrong...but what I'd done wrong...and he clearly knew this. Finn was not stupid by any stretch of the imagination.

My throat was dry, but I managed to croak out a "Fine. Let's talk about what happened that night, then."

The small space of my car began to swell with the silence that fell between us. Finn hadn't taken his eyes off of me for a long time and it was making my veins run icy. "I said and did some highly inappropriate things to you, sweetie...things that I'm sure have scarred you so badly that you may never be able to look at me the same way again. But let me assure you, right here and right now that I am still your mother and I love you very much."

"I don't want this to come between us...okay? If you want to yell at me, you may. If you want to cry, I'll hold you. If you want to talk about it, I will listen. Just tell me what I need to do in order to make you feel comfortable again."

It was quiet again for a while. Finn had one of two moods. Either one or the other, he was looking at me without shame or he was avoiding eye contact with me like his life depended on it. Right now he was the first one.

After a moment he laughed under his breath, shaking his head. A half smile began to pull across his face as he continued to stare me down. "You just don't get it, do you?"

I blinked once, my face emotionless. "I don't get what, Finlay?"

"Do you actually think that I refused to see you because that whole ordeal made me uncomfortable?"

I was so confused. "If that's not the case then what is? You need to explain it so that I can understand."

"How could any man be averse with a woman as beautiful as you on top of them?" His voice was even, and dead serious.

I felt my jaw drop. How am I supposed to respond to that? I scrambled my brain as I searched for the appropriate response to that ridiculously inappropriate statement. "I...uh..."

He continued on, and my stomach hit the floor at what he said next. "But it wouldn't be fucked up enough to admit that my own inebriated mother gave me a sexual rise that's ruined me for any other woman for the rest of my life, would it?"

I held up my hand, urging...begging him to stop. "Finlay—"

"Would you like to hear about how you've been the star of every single one of my sexual fantasies since that night?"

"FINLAY!"

"How about the fact that I've jerked off while thinking about you grinding against my cock fully clothed and then coming like you haven't in years? Would that satisfy your motherly ego?" His voice was calm and dark.

"Would it satisfy you to know that I've been killing myself for not taking advantage of you that night and fucking the living shit out of you against the bed that you share with my father?"

I brought my hand to my mouth and felt myself begin to dry heave. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My skin was cold and I felt as if I were suffocating. My eyes were going blurry and my mind was a haze as if this whole thing were a dream I was close to coming out of.

He began talking again but I could only just barely hear what he was saying because my ears were ringing as if something had exploded beside them. His words were being translated to me as muffled hums.

"Yes, you're my mother, and that's never going to change. But honestly? I don't think I can be your son anymore. I can't look at you the same way and please believe me when I tell you that I have tried. I've tried to push it all back, forget about how you made me feel. But sitting here with you now...looking at you..." He paused.

"I want you in every way imaginable and it's driving me crazy, mom."

I turned to him with pleading eyes. "We can fix this. We can get you therapy." I said. My voice was desperate and bargaining. What Finn had was nothing more than a very severe case Oedipus complex. I've seen it before in my cases at work.