Chapter 18: Blacking Out
Anxiety tastes like copper pennies in my mouth as I stand outside our front door at 12:22 AM, my QuickMart name tag still pinned to my shirt. The weight of what I'm about to do makes my hand tremble as I fit the key into the lock.
I'd rehearsed this conversation a dozen times on the way home. But now that I'm here, all my carefully prepared words feel like sand slipping through my fingers.
"Fuck it," I mutter, pushing the door open with more force than necessary.
The familiar glow of our living room TV casts Mom in silhouette on the couch. She's wearing another silk night gown, her white hair loose around her shoulders, looking so normal it makes my chest ache. For a split second, I can almost pretend we're just a regular mother and son, that the past week has been some fever dream.
"How was work, honey?" she asks, her smile warm and genuine as she mutes the TV. There's no predatory gleam in her eyes tonight, no suggestive undertone to her words. Just Mom, asking about my day like she's done a thousand times before.
Something inside me cracks at the normalcy of it.
"Mom, look..." I begin, my voice rougher than I intended. I drop my backpack by the door and step into the living room, keeping the coffee table between us like a shield. "I'm exhausted by our new... relationship. Can we please just go back to how things were?"
Her smile freezes, then slowly fades. She blinks rapidly, those blue eyes I've known my entire life suddenly unreadable. The silence stretches between us like a rubber band pulled too tight.
"No," she says finally, the single syllable falling like a stone. "I'm not going to stop flirting with you, Gabriel."
My heart sinks, but before I can respond, she continues, her voice softening slightly.
"But I'm willing to tone it down for now."