You're a Mind Fuck, Babe

Chapter 42: What a Catch

The week goes by in agonizing slow motion. It’s finally thanksgiving and my mom is expecting us. Mikey called a couple hours ago and told us he was stuck in traffic. Gerard and I decided that we would wait for him before heading to my mom’s. I let her know we would be late and we wouldn’t be alone and then I hung up before she could protest. It’s a dick move but I never said I was a good person. My head hurts from having to deal with all the homework and shit I’ve had recently. Thank God I have tomorrow off. I get to fucking relax all fucking day. I don’t have to deal with bullshit for the next 80 hours. Gerard and I are going shopping for a fucking table; I mean a table, not necessarily for fucking. Anxiety is bubbling inside of me as we wait for Mikey and Pete to arrive. I want this night to be over with and the awkwardness to pass quickly but I know that probably won’t happen because it’s my life we’re talking about, not some fucking fairy-tale. I desperately wanted to cancel so badly but Gerard urged me to go forward with our plans. I feel like everything I’m going to do tonight is going to be criticized by my mom because I haven’t stopped by to see her in a while. I barely live there anymore. I practically moved into Gerard’s place.

Eventually, after an eternity, there’s a knock on Gerard’s door and when he opens it and sees Mikey, he grabs his coat, throwing me mine and we go. It’s a little later than we wanted to leave but it’s still reasonable. The drive to my mom’s place is silent, Gerard and I saying nothing. He reaches for my hand and laces his fingers through mine while he drives us there; making sure that Mikey is always in the car behind us so that he can follow us efficiently. We get closer and closer to my childhood home and the butterflies in my stomach start flying around, overlapping each other and combatting in the walls inside of me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying not to let the anxiety get the better of me as we pull into my mother’s driveway. Mikey is forced to park on the sidewalk due to the lack of room in the driveway. We all walk up to the door together, Mikey and Fletcher with Pete and his two kids. It was the first time either Gerard or I had met Pete and we had less than a minute to greet them before my mom swung open the door as we walked up the staircase to the door. Pete seems like an okay dude. I don’t hate his guts, which is good but then again, you don’t get to learn much from a ten seconds exchange of hellos. My mom strips my coat off of me and does the same to Gerard. She lets Mikey take his own off and Pete as well. She looks down at the kids and takes a deep breath. She forces a smile and looks up to the kids’ fathers.

“So what are these little angels’ names?” she asks, batting her eyelashes way too much.

“Uh, this is Fletcher. That’s Bronx, and this one here is Saint Lazslo,” Mikey says, displaying the kids. My mom plants awkward and loud kisses on each of the kids’ foreheads. I can already tell it’s going to be a long night.

Having lived with my mom for almost 18 years, only some of them that I was able to remember, I know when she’s being exceptionally fake and forcing herself way too hard and tonight is one of those nights. Like a good host, she escorts us into the kitchen and offers us something to drink before disappearing back into the kitchen and returning with food. She sets the tofurky in the middle of the table with diverse side dishes around it. She starts plating it for all those who can eat solid food like that. I dig in and stuff it down my throat as fast as I can with the mentality that the faster I eat, the faster I can leave. Gerard seems to be just moving his food around on his plate, not really tasting anything as though it’s disgusting and a disgrace. I’m just glad my mom doesn’t force us to say Grace like his does. The silence doesn’t last long as I knew it wouldn’t as my mom starts up an interrogation.

“So Mikey, how did you not know that you had a son until he was born?” She asks, as though it’s not something insensitive and crude.

“It was just a fluke, I guess. I didn’t know the girl that well and she never told me until she was in the hospital,” he answers, trying to keep his calm and his nerves to a minimum, his voice still wavering slightly. The awkwardness and tension in the air is thick enough to be cut with a knife and I wish I could disappear because I know that eventually the interrogation will be pointed at Gerard and me. Who knows what kind of questions she has planned for us? I look down at my fingers, glad the promise ring is at least slightly covered by my gloves, until she notices and makes me take them off. Gerard is chewing his thumb nail, his ring very obvious. I feel the blood drain from my face and I look away from his hand.