Waking Up to Ellen Ch. 02

The table fell silent again.

"So, what now?" He dreaded her response.

"I need to see where things are going with your father," she answered softly, "If he is going to be more attentive, more present, I need to give him a chance. We did love each other, and on some level, I still love him. Somewhere along the line we just stopped being in love. We fell into our own deep ruts and didn't make any effort to get out of them. He's been making an effort the last couple days; we've got a chance to reconnect. Meeting him halfway is the least I can do."

"And what about us? Am I supposed to just forget about you?" he asked, his voice rising.

"Michael, please don't tell me you want me to yourself. I'm married. I can't deny him just because things have been rough for a while."

"Fuck, mom, of course I want you to myself!" he said, struggling to contain his frustration, "You know how I feel about you! But that wasn't part of the deal, was it? This is just a fling, right? In the long run, we're going to have to go our separate ways, and I'll marry someone who will never live up to my ideal woman, and she and I will grow apart, and we'll find solace in other things and other people, but she'll still sleep with me once in a while because that's what married people do."

"Michael, you're being unfair!"

"Of course, I'm being unfair! I'm in love with the one person I can't ever be with! How is that fucking fair?"

"You say that like you're the only one suffering here! What do you think will happen if I start pushing your father away whenever he comes close to me? You don't think that will make him wonder what's going on? I have to try and rebuild my relationship with him even though I want to be with you. You don't think that hurts?"

Michael stared at her, wanting to find a weakness in her argument but coming up empty. He put his head in his hands. "No, you're right, mom," he said, before adding quietly, "Why does being in love hurt so much?"

Ellen's features softened and she reached across the table to take his hand. "You just need to find someone who can give you the love you deserve," she said, gently caressing his fingers.

***

The house was quiet by the time they got home. A light had been left on in the kitchen but a quick glance around made clear that Bill had gone to bed. Michael switched off the light and they stood in the darkness at the bottom of the stairs. Leaning forward, he found her cheek with his lips and kissed her lightly.

Ellen pulled him in for a hug, softly saying "I know it's difficult for you. Please just understand that it's difficult for me too."

She brought his face to hers and they kissed tenderly. Michael felt as though his mother was about to board a flight with no idea if she would ever return. Ellen felt overwhelmingly conflicted: Joyful about the love that had possibly been rekindled with her husband and grieving for the love she had found and lost with her son.

***

Midterms were over. Michael was reasonably certain that he had passed all his exams. He was just as certain that his scores would do nothing to help his grades. He told himself he would work harder in the last half of the semester to recover. Without the distraction of his relationship with his mom, it would be easier to concentrate.

Reality, however, had other ideas.

Seeing the woman he loved in the arms of another man every day, even when that other man was his father, was tearing him to pieces. Each laugh, each embrace, each kiss his parents shared cut into him. His mother's avoidances of him were like rubbing alcohol poured into the open wounds.

He found himself lying awake at night, long after his parents had gone to bed, listening to every creak and groan in the house, wondering if they were having sex. He'd never thought about their sex life previously. That they would ever have sex simply never entered his consciousness. Now the thought of it made him ill.

His father, whom he had previously thought of as only uncaring and self-absorbed, became insufferable. Everything he did, from the way he greeted Ellen to the way he chewed his food, was obnoxious and just plain wrong. Every time he greeted Michael with a, 'Hey, Mike!', knowing full well that wasn't his name, made him want to lash out.

Michael's father attributed his sullen and hostile attitude to 'being a teenager', reassuring Ellen that, "He's always been a good kid, he's just finally gotten around to acting out against his parents. He'll grow out of it."

Ellen, of course, knew better but had no way of telling her husband the true nature of Michael's anger. She wanted to console him but feared doing so would only give him false hope that their relationship could continue. Instead, she kept her distance, focusing her attention on her husband, hoping Michael would move on.

Unable to bear being in the house with them, Michael began studying on campus and hanging out with his friends until well into the evening. If he was at home, he was in his room, the door firmly shut to the world outside.

***

"Did you see the text from Mike?" Bill asked, giving Ellen a quick kiss on the cheek and grabbing a beer from the fridge.

She rested her spoon on the edge of the pan and, wiping her hands, reached for her phone. "No, is he skipping dinner again?"

Hearing the distress in her voice, Bill set his bottle on the counter and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay, he's growing up. You knew he would have to leave home sometime, right?"

She nodded and pulled him in for a hug, as much to hide the tears welling in her eyes as for the comfort of being in his arms. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself before pulling away and turning to the stove again. "I just wish he'd give me a little more notice," she deflected, "I made one of his favorites."

"I expect he's out with his girlfriend," her husband replied, smiling knowingly as he removed Michael's place setting from the table, "You remember what it was like. We used to sneak off every chance we got."

"I suppose."

He didn't understand why she sounded so hurt. "Have you met her?"

Ellen's heart skipped a beat. This was not a conversation she was prepared to have. "Just briefly, a couple times."

"What do you think of her?"

"She seems nice enough, but I don't think she's right for Michael."

Bill laughed. "Will you ever think any girl is right for Mike?"

"It's not that," she said making a face, "I just don't see things working out for them over the long term, and I don't want to see him get hurt."

"Well, he's too young to be worried about the 'long term' anyway. He should be out having fun, and, based on what I heard of them that Sunday, he's doing that!" he smirked.

Ellen felt faint and desperately wanted to change the subject but couldn't think of a graceful exit. "I don't know, when I saw them together, he seemed head over heels for her. I just think he's setting himself up for disappointment."

"What makes you say that?"

She could sense her face turning red and was glad she was still facing the stove. She hadn't thought this through. "She's older than him, for one thing."

"So?"

"Well, I think she graduates in December, and she'll probably head back home to find a job, and Michael can't go chasing her all over when he's got three and a half years left in school." The lie sounded so obvious she winced as she said it.

"So, he'll get his heart broken, he'll have to make some adult decisions, and he'll grow from the experience," Bill reasoned, "He'll be better for it in the end. And in the meantime, he's learning a bit about women."

Unable to hold back any longer, Ellen began to cry. Through her tears she managed to quietly ask to change the subject.

Bill took her in his arms again, holding her tight as she sobbed against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ellie. I didn't realize you were so upset about this girl," he said softly, kissing her hair.

She clung to him, nauseated by the whirlwind of emotions twisting inside her, her body shaking as she cried. The pain and fear and guilt that had been building inside her for weeks poured out in her tears. Everything was her fault - she had betrayed her husband and driven her son away from his family - and she was certain Bill would see it the moment he looked into her eyes. She wanted to run and curl up in some dark corner where no one would find her, but her legs felt as though they might give way at any moment, so she just clung to him tighter, keeping her face buried and out of his sight.

Bill rocked Ellen in his arms, whispering, "It's okay," over and over, and stroking her back as she trembled against him. He was perplexed by his wife's sudden breakdown. Clearly this was something more than Mike missing dinner or dating a girl she didn't approve of, but he hadn't a clue as to what.

***

It was after midnight when Michael pulled up in front of the house. The sleepless nights and long days were taking their toll and he was looking forward to collapsing in his bed. He only hoped he would finally be able to get a decent night's sleep. Dragging his backpack from his car, he made his way onto the porch, unlocked the door and quietly stepped inside.

"Mike, we need to talk."

"Fuck!" Michael yelled reflexively, nearly jumping out of his skin.

"Language, Mike!" Bill tried to contain his laughter and sound stern.

"Jesus, dad, you scared the crap out of me! Why are you still up?" Michael asked angrily.

The hint of a smile on his dad's face disappeared. "Because your mother is as upset as I have ever seen her, and I want to know why."

Michael's stomach plummeted to the floor. He leaned onto his anger like a crutch. "How should I know? Did you ask her?"

"She was too upset to talk, but it started after you texted tonight about missing dinner." His dad crossed his arms. "Were you out with your girlfriend?"

Michael wasn't sure where this was going but decided it would be best to stay as close to the truth as he could. "No, I was at the student union working on a paper. Why?"

"Your mom doesn't seem to like your girlfriend very much. She thinks you're going to get hurt."

"Well, she doesn't need to worry about that anymore. We broke up," he said sullenly.

"Seriously?" his dad asked, surprised, "What happened?"

"She went back to her ex, and, yeah, it fucking hurts."

Bill ignored his son's profanity and studied him in silence. His shoulders were sagging, his face was pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and his clothes hung on him as if they were two sizes too big. 'What the hell is going on with my family?'

"You look exhausted, Mike. Go to bed," he said sympathetically, "We'll continue this later."

"Okay, dad." He bent to take off his shoes.

"One more thing: You are to be here on time for dinner every night your mom cooks unless you have a reasonable excuse. You can write a paper at your desk upstairs just as well as you can on campus. Got it?"

"Got it," he answered grimly, nodding his head without looking up.

Bill watched him a moment longer, then turned and headed upstairs.

Michael lay on his bed until the early hours of the morning, staring at his phone. He had started and erased a dozen texts to his mom, each one worse than the last. Cross-eyed, he gave up, put his phone on the nightstand and shut off his light.

***

Tired of feeling angry and sick all the time, and no longer able to stay out late or hide in his room to avoid his parents, Michael decided his only choice was to move out. He would need a job to cover expenses, and he worried what that might do to his already flagging grades, but the torture of being at home and seeing her every day was far worse. He chose not to tell his parents about his plans. It would be easier to deal with them once everything was in place.

The job turned out to be easier than he had expected. Networking with his friends, he found a position with a big box store that was hiring evening and weekend shifts. The pay wasn't great, but it would cover rent near campus and basic groceries. He would have to forego luxuries, like eating out and Netflix, but that felt like a small price to pay. Telling his parents that he wanted to start working to build his savings, his first shift started only a couple weeks after his search began. His dad had been supportive. Ellen fretted over his grades.

Finding someplace to live was much more difficult. Everything near campus had been leased since the beginning of the semester, and no one was moving out until after the school year. Everything further from campus was priced for people with decent jobs. Eventually he stumbled upon a place that had come on the market unexpectedly, the former tenant having dropped out of school. It wasn't great: It was a small third floor walk-up, the appliances were old, and the walls were thin; but it was better than seeing his mom every day and not being able to hold her. Borrowing his dad's truck and promising to pay his buddies in tacos afterwards, he was able to move everything from his house to the apartment in one day. He even found a second-hand couch they were able to haul up the six flights.

His apartment filled with boxes and a few meager pieces of furniture, Michael returned home to drop off the truck, pick up his car and look for any stray items he may have missed. Having scanned all the other likely places in the house, he was now staring at the last few boxes in his bedroom closet.

Until this moment, the day had been exciting. Plodding up three floors laden with boxes and furniture and trash bags full of clothes was physically exhausting, but with each step his mental load lightened. He was moving into his first apartment, with all the freedoms that would bring. No curfews, friends over whenever he wanted, no yardwork, chores when he chose to do them, his own music as loud and late as he wanted...

Now, he stared at a blatant reminder of his real reason for leaving. The first time he had made love with his mother, he had packed away his Legos and action figures and other things that had been meaningful to his younger self, wanting her to see him as the adult he had become. He had willfully ignored the boxes shoved in the back corner of his closet when loading the truck throughout the day. As the last items in his room, he could no longer ignore them.

He could think of no practical reason for bringing them to his apartment. His place was small. Packed or unpacked, they would only take up valuable space. If...when...he started dating again, he wouldn't want anyone he brought back to his place to see them. And he certainly had no interest in playing with anything in those boxes again.

Just the same, leaving them behind felt disingenuous. He had changed over the last couple of months, but that didn't make these things any less a part of him. Maybe by embracing them, he could feel more like himself once more.

Undecided, he turned from his closet and stopped short. Ellen leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed protectively across her chest, tears silently streaming down her face. He wondered how long she had been there, why she hadn't said anything, what she wanted from him. Her mouth opened but she didn't have the words. Shaking her head and looking at the floor, she walked from his room, down the hall and into her bedroom. The door shut with a quiet click behind her.

Michael wanted to run after her, barge into her room, take her in his arms, tell her he loved her, make the world right again, but his friends were calling from the front porch.

"Hey Michael, you ready? We're starving!"

"Yeah, just a sec," he yelled down. He glanced one last time at his mother's door, then trudged down the stairs and out the door.