Ket stood at the door as his girlfriend rushed across the grass to the car, opened up the passenger-back door and jumped in like an FBI agent getting ready to nab a perp. In the lighted cabin he could see her mom was a little peeved, and he felt awful for her as she sped away. He watched until the red lights turned onto Almond Field Road.
"Ket, it's freezing, shut the door already please."
"Oh," he did so, slamming the door a little hard. He locked it. "Sorry, mom."
She sat at the kitchen table, dressed in sweats. "You're all right, it's just freezing outside. Emmy's mom sounded a little mad on the phone earlier, I think she's a little peeved she has to work the holiday tomorrow."
"How's your work going?" He asked as he sat at the table with her.
His mom smiled. "I think I'm getting used to it. The atmosphere is very nice, but it gets boring sometimes when no one really comes in. I don't know what I would do without the waiting room TV."
"They have a TV in the waiting room?"
"Yeah!" She said excitedly, "It's a big one too. I can't see it from my booth, but I can hear it. In fact, just the other day..." she trailed a little, "Well I was listening to this..." She bit her lip and trailed again.
Her son blinked, watching his mother think deeply. "What's wrong?" He asked, giving her a window.
"...Do you...wanna watch a movie with me?"
The question visibly startled him. "What movie?"
"Whatever you want," she replied quickly.
"Um..." He looked away for a second, thinking. This was really sudden...
"I can make popcorn too. And put lots of butter on it." She spoke with energy and a big smile.
"But that'll ruin dinner..." He muttered.
She made a pfff sound with her lips, "Popcorn is okay for dinner every once in a while. It's a holiday tomorrow, I'm off, you can stay up a little later tonight—whaddaya say? Please?" She clasped her hands together and widened her eyelids, looking at her son with quivering whiskers like a little puppy dog.
He rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay," he caved, "We'll watch a movie."
She brightened up. "Yay!" The chair huffed as she straightened, moving toward the stove to turn it on, "I'll get the popcorn ready lickety, you go pick out a movie you wanna watch."
He smiled and hopped out of his chair, taking a dozen steps to get into the living room. It was a quaint room that he rarely went into. It was past the stairs, and really sort of hidden from the rest of the house. To his left was the door that led to his mother's bedroom, and to his right was the long couch that was pressed against the wall of the stairs. The ceiling was sort of low, a small fan with two lights turned on with the flick of a switch. The fan crunched a bit as it started a wobbly spin, throwing a bit of dust. He twisted the dial a tic or two from OFF and it settled down.
A couple weeks ago this room was used to store junk. Much of it was cleaned out and either thrown away or donated. Right before school started, he had helped clean the dust off the furniture Maybe his mom wanted to watch a movie just as an excuse to use the room, outside of sitting in it as a whole family...
He pushed the thoughts out of his mind.
The long couch was very old and worn. Dark red in color, once probably a dozen shades brighter. The lounge chair on the adjacent wall was olive green. It was also old but not as old as the couch. There was an ottoman that matched the couch color, pushed against the door to the closet beneath the stairs. That was where the junk that couldn't be sold or thrown away was put.
On the opposite wall of the couch was the TV set. Fixed into a fancy-looking stand that had lost its fanciness with the turn of the millennium, was a large and heavy CRT TV along with a VCR in the cubbyhole beneath. Emeral made a comment here and there about how the things in Ket's home were practically ancient. His house lacked a microwave. It had for years. They didn't have any new gadgets or gizmos like a DVD player or even a computer.
He never really understood why it was so weird to not have things like that. He didn't know exactly how much a microwave cost, but if they needed one and his mom could afford it she would have gotten one by now. And they didn't need a DVD player because they didn't have any DVDs. It made sense to him.
He moved over to a little hexagonal decor table with a door handle on its outward face. He pulled the handle and it opened with a brass click. Inside were dust-covered boxes with VHS movie-tapes in them. There were two stacks of five movies. He pulled the left stack out. The Little Mermaid, Aladdin and the King of Thieves, Homeward Bound, The Sandlot and Stewart Little were the titles. In the second stack, the only movies that looked fun were Once Upon a Forest and An American Tail: Fievel Goes West. He smiled at the last title.
"Got one picked out?" His mom asked, bare feet plodding across the carpet.
"Yeah," he replied, placing the rejects back into the decor table. "The popcorn smells good." He said, his tongue slobbering just a little.
She picked a kernel up and it disappeared into her maw. "I put extra butter on it," she said, and then licked her fingers; "Maybe a little too extra..." She set the bowl down and picked up the remote on the couch. The TV buzzed when she turned it on, and then the sound of sirens came through the speakers at a low volume. She turned it up a bit, and flipped it to channel 3 while her son put the tape in the VCR and turned it on.
For a little while there was a blue screen, but when he pressed play it turned black for a moment while the electronics whirred to life. He walked backward toward the couch, watching as the black turned into the usual big letters that said WARNING.
"Careful, watch the bowl," his mom warned just in time, placing a hand out to stop him. He looked behind himself and stepped carefully around the bowl to sit on the couch. They got comfortable. She lied down while he sat against her, an afghan draped over his right shoulder and across his lap. The bowl of popcorn was given a place beside Ket, but he had to reach with his left hand in order to get it, which just felt odd.
They sat through the previews. Most of the movies they showed were already two decades old, but to the movie they were 'coming soon to theaters'. At last the main attraction started, and Ket left the afghan to go turn the lights off. As the movie started he thought it was so very strange that they had up and decided to watch it, but half an hour later he was enjoying the time—especially since it didn't involve cleaning of any kind. Very soon his stomach was full of butter and he felt a little queasy.
They laughed at the jokes and felt sad for Fievel, all alone without his family. Ket kept remembering things right before or just as they happened, like he was digging up an old box deep in his brain. It came up to what Ket recalled was his favorite scene; when Fievel meets Wylie Burp. Just as Wylie's hand slammed down in front of the mouse to stay him from walking away with his head down, the video popped and fizzled. Lines of static flashed across the screen, and suddenly the logo of Seinfeld appeared, followed by a pop-string guitar playing the theme song.
They watched the show for almost a full minute before his mom finally got up. She took three large steps over to the stand and pushed stop, and then turned off the TV. A perturbing silence came about the room. Her hand slapped the set-top box, emitting a hollow klonk, and she let out a sigh. There was only one person in their family who watched that show. She had to quell her anger; her son was in the room.
"I'm sorry, Ket." She spoke sadly. "I guess...your dad accidentally recorded over the movie."
"S'okay," he said, fiddling with his fingers, "It was still fun."
"Tell ya what," she said quickly, almost frantically, as she sat back down on the couch, "We'll go to the rental store later and get a copy of it there. And some cotton-candy too—or whatever you want." She reached up to brush his cheek, but was caught by surprise when his hand caught hers.
"Is something wrong, momma?" He asked.
She closed her eyes for a moment, tears welling up in the corners near her nose. She wiped the left one, and then the right. "I'm all right, hun."
"I dunno...you're acting kinda outta character." He pulled the afghan over his shoulders. "Are you sure you like your new job?"
She quietly sniffled. "Yes, I do." She said briefly.
"Then...why did you act all weird when I asked you before?"
She was well aware of her son's ability to tell when people—even adults—were acting differently. It was the first time she'd actually experienced it first-hand. There was no use hiding it from him. He was a big boy. "Honey..." She trailed again, building up courage. "I...when it was slow the other day..." She trailed again. It wasn't until her son's paw rested on her arm, and she stared into his eyes, so golden and so mature, that she managed to find a place to start. "Am I a good mom?"
The question caught him off guard, the second one to do so that night. He blinked several times, but he quickly regained composure and nodded. "Yeah, you're a great mom," he said emphatically.
"I mean...I know I'm not here that often...and when I am I'm always tired or busy..."
"Well that's cuz you're a great dad too, kinda." He moved to lean against her. "I mean...you're not here cuz you have to work. You have to be like a mom and a dad."
"Yeah well," she lifted him up and fell onto her back, laying him beside her and scratching his head. "Things are different now, okay? I'm gonna be home more, whether you like it or not."
He began to purr. The maternal affection was new yet familiar to him. He looked up into his moms eyes, almost the same color as his, and smiled. She smiled back. When he chuckled, she chuckled back. "Does all this...hafta do with what you heard on the TV at work?"
The monkey-see-monkey-do game ended when she let out a weighted sigh. "You just go right to the good stuff don't you?" She muttered, and shifted position so she was lying more comfortably. "It's nothing to worry about. When you get a little older maybe I'll tell you but—"
"Mrs. Oulryk says I've grown." He interrupted.
His mom closed her lips. "She did, did she?" Her son nodded. She was quiet for a moment, and then she suddenly began; "It wasn't busy at all, so I was listening to the TV."
Ket nodded, letting his eyes focus on her tapping finger as he listened to his mom.
"There was this...documentary I guess. It was about...kids growing up with divorced parents."
They glanced at each other for a moment. "And?" He asked.
She looked away, and then back. "Did you...ever think it was your fault? Your father and me...splitting apart?"
He shook his head very calmly.
"It wasn't," she pressed, placing a hand upon his arm. "I promise. We love you, very much—I love you." She reached the arm around her son's head and pulled him to her bosom.
"I love you too, mom," He said into her armpit, returning a one-armed hung. "It wasn't anyone's fault. It was his fault."
She shushed him. "Let's not talk about that." She replied. "But...I was wondering...how would you feel about...having a new dad?"
He looked up at her with a poker-face. Strike three, and this time he was out.
"I mean—" she added hastily, "Not right away...and there are no guarantees but..." She bit her lip.
He blinked, and then pulled the afghan over his shoulder, hiding half of his face.
She stroked the back of his head. "Maybe that's enough talk for one night. But...maybe...think about that a little bit. You don't have to decide right away, take all the time you need...just think about it, okay?"
After a moment, he nodded silently.
She let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "Mrs. Oulryk is right," she commented, cupping his chin and gazing at his half-hidden face. "I think you have grown."
