(FREE TO READ) Bad Moon

chapter 4; boys

There was something about fresh-cut grass that turned Jaylin's stomach.

He powered off the lawn mower and shed his shirt from his sweaty chest. He wasn't quite sure if it was the smell or the summer sun, but he couldn't go a second longer without a break.

He lunged inside, where his mother sat on the couch, playing a farm game on her phone and watching trashy daytime television.

"So what is it today?" he asked, fetching a glass of water and dumping far too much lemonade mix inside.

"He,"—she pointed with her phone—"is cheating on that woman right there with her own mother. A woman older than me. Can you believe that?" She giggled the way she always does on a good day—the whimsical titter that Jaylin so loved the sound of. He wished he could capture it from the air and bottle it. Then he wished he didn't have to wish for things like that.

"Well, would you?" She was flashing her powder blue eyes over her shoulder at him, and it took Jaylin a moment to realize he'd missed her question entirely.

"Sorry, what?"

"Would you sleep with an older woman, Jaylin?"

He choked on his lemonade, wiping the cold river from his chin.

She's caught his expression and giggled again, that effervescence bubbling out of her like a good champagne. "I just want to make sure I'm not leaving you here with some strange Oedipus complex. Or was it Electra? I never paid much attention in psychology."

"Mom. There are no... 'complexes'. Nothing's complex."

"Oh, don't be so embarrassed. Age is nothing but numbers. And gender too, you know. All just a bunch of hooey."

"What is up with you today?" He grinned at her from behind his glass of lemonade. "Hoping I'll get laid this summer? Want to set me up on a blind date with one of your friends from your quilting club?"

"Oh heavens no," Julia said. "Not those sluts."

Jaylin laughed, then choked, the lemonade burning at his his nose.

"I'm just saying, it would be nice to see my only child find the love of his life," his mother said. "Whether that love is a girl your own age, or a man in his forties. So long as you're happy, dear."

Jaylin stopped pinching his searing sinuses and turned to her, those words a brazen breeze on his face. "You think the love of my life could be a man?"

"Oh, honey." She pushed herself up off of the couch the way a decrepit old woman rises from a bus bench. She was only forty—too young to be moving like this. At first, she wobbled a bit and Jaylin felt himself flinch, ready to hurdle his body over the couch and catch her at a moment's notice. But she balanced herself with a smile and shuffled slowly on her little pink slippers to meet him.

"There ain't no such thing as straight." Her hips knocked into him as she took the counter at his side. "Especially with you. Now hand me a mug, will you?"

Jaylin stood on his toes to reach the cupboard. "The hell does that mean?" he asked, fetching the creamer from the fridge while his mother filled the cup with stale, reheated coffee. "With me?"

"You've always been a bit different when it came to boys, that's all I'm saying." He watched her pour a disgusting amount of creamer into her cup. She always liked things sickeningly sweet. "Anyway, I remember the way you used to watch them during soccer. That one boy, Brian—"

"Brian Delgato." Jaylin scratched his had as he recalled the foreign exchange student from Sophomore year with the straight teeth and knee-quivering accent. "Yeah, I remember him."