Bates

21

   "Hey, it's alright. It's not like anyone's spying on us."

   Norma rapped the door with a closed fist. "Norman, breakfast is ready!"

   "Okay, Mother!" Upon hearing her leave, he turned to the empty space beside him, whispering. "You have to hide until my mother goes down to the motel-- the closet. She won't see you there," he then threw the his sheets off, letting them drop to the floor. He walked over to the closet, opened the sliding panel of a door, and closed it, satisfied. "I'll come and get you after she leaves."

   "NORMAN!"

   "I'm coming!" he nearly tripped over an upturned board on his way to the door.

   He went downstairs, not at all surprised to be the first one at the table. "Did you tell Alex yet?" he asked.

   Norman turned to him with the hot frying pan in her hand. She scooped eggs onto his plate. "I haven't told him," she admitted.

   "Well, what are you waiting for? If he really loves you, the news won't bother him at all."

   "I just-- he's been busy lately, and I don't want to drop it on him out of nowhere. You know how serious he is about his work."

   "Well, I think you should tell him--"

   "Tell 'him' what?" Neither of them heard Dylan's silent footsteps.

   Norma smiled. "Oh, it's nothing, just...something broke in the motel and I've been waiting to have Alex fix it."

   "I can fix it. What is it?"

   "Well, I--"

   "You're lying to me, aren't you?"

   Norma stood there, with a frying pan in one had and a spatula in the other, silently watching her oldest son.

   He cursed. "I wish you'd quit lying to me, Norma!" he yelled, shoving the chair back under the table, "This is crap. If you can tell Norman, you can tell me. Come on, tell me."

   "Dylan--"

   "Tell me!"

   Norman grabbed his brother by the shoulders, slamming him up against the wall. Norma cried out, shocked by his sudden outburst. "She doesn't have to tell you anything," he said, holding his face directly in front of Dylan's. At first, the older man looked angry, then, his expression faded as he noticed the distant mist of Norman's eyes.

   "Norman, let him go," Norma called. Her breathing was rapid and her eyes wide. Norman looked ready to strangle his brother to death.

   Dylan felt Norman's grip loosen. At first, he thought the younger man had calmed down, until he realized that his eyes were rolling back in his head. He stood there, wide-eyed, watching as Norma caught her youngest son in her arms. She cried for him to help her move Norman out to the car. "I can't carry him," she told him.

   He could feel the sweat trickling from his darker, sandy-colored hair as he lifted his lanky brother and carried him out to the car. Norma insisted on following, and Dylan knew he wouldn't be able to argue. She got in the back, holding Norman's head in her lap. He watched as she cradled his head, running a hand through his hair. If she noticed him watching, then she didn't seem to care.

   "I'm sorry about earlier," she said, about half-ways through their ride. "It's not that I didn't want to tell you, I really just-- wanted to wait until Alex knew."

   A fresh wave of dread filled his chest. "Is something wrong?"

   She rolled her eyes. "You know, your brother asked the same thing..."

   "Norma!"

   "I'm pregnant."

   Dylan was startlingly quiet.

   "Well. Are you going to say something, anything?"

   "That's what you didn't want to tell Alex? Mom, this is great for you two...why would you--"

   "It's not that I didn't want to tell him. I just...I'm worried, that's all. I've never had an annoucement like this go well, in case you're wondering."

   Dylan brought his hand over his face, laughing as he pulled into a parking space. "Yeah, and Alex isn't a jerk like your other husbands were."

   She bit back a haughty remark, ignoring her son's laughter and following him into the emergency room.

~                                                                                                                                                                                                ~

   Alex pulled into the drive, puzzling over why his wife wasn't at the motel, and why it's sign wasn't lit. He quickly came to the conclusion that something must've been wrong when he saw that only one car was sitting in the motel's parking lot.

   He stomped up to the old Chevy, then knocked on the man's window. A gust of familiarity hit him, and he stepped back, away from the pistol that was pointed at his face. "Take me into the house, or I'll blow your brains out."

   "Listen to me--"

   "No. No, that's not how this works, see, I'm the one with the gun," he waved the weapon around mockingly. "I'll be the one in charge here, if you want yourself and your family to live..."

   Alex's hand drifted down to his sidearm.

   "Don't you dare think about pulling out that thing. I'll drop you before you can blink, and your pretty wife, too."

   "What is it that you want?" he asked, trying hard to ignore the man's less-than-casual threats.

   "I want the money, and I believe you might know exactly where it is..."

~                                                                                                                                                                                                 ~

   Emma stopped herself short of the motel's gravelly lot.

   If I do this, it would be just as bad as admitting I was wrong, she sighed. After all, he's the one that should be apologizing to me. She stifled those thoughts, knowing that Norman wasn't completely in the wrong. After all, why should she expect him to suddenly think of her like a girlfriend, when they had been friends for so long?

   "Come on, feet," she said, gathering her bearings to get out of the car. She paused. Stared through the glass windsheild and out towards the gargantuan, old house. It's stained-white door was hanging ajar, moving with the wind every now-and-then. Emma thought it odd, yet she had no idea that, in such a welcoming home as the Romeros lived in, something could be going terribly wrong.