Beast

The woman behind the counter looks up and up at me. “That’s your son?”

“Yup.”

“You poor woman,” she laughs. “You must’ve cracked open from the pressure.”

Mom smiles along. “Ten pounds, eight ounces, I demanded a C-section.”

They get their full jollies on and I stand there while they laugh at me. “Good lord, he’s a beast,” the woman says. “When he came in with that girl, I was like—”

“What girl?” Mom demands.

I eye-yell at the woman behind the counter to say no more, but she’s Team Mom. “She’s young, tall, and pretty. Think she had a camera?” the woman says, and I’m instantly screwed.

Mom tears away from the counter and storms through the aisles one by one. I catch a glimpse of Jamie trying to make a break for it, but Mom spies her first. “Jamie!” she yells. “Young lady, you and I need to have a talk.”

“Mom,” I interrupt, throwing myself between the two of them. “It’s not what you think! Don’t take it out on her, take it out on me.” If there was any way to bargain, to plead, to steer her another way, I’d do it all, but once she saw Jamie, it was over.

Jamie holds on to a display and grips her heart. “I didn’t mean—”

My mom bucks around me and gets too tight with Jamie. “I don’t know what kind of agenda you have for my son, but you will leave him alone from now on,” she says in a low tone. “Understand me?”

“Mom, it was my idea, not Jamie’s. She’s innocent.”

“You.” She switches her sights to me. “We’re leaving. Go.”

I look over my shoulder and see Jamie holding it in. “I’ll call you,” I mouth.

Jamie nods and lays her head against her clinging hands holding on to the shelf, and that’s the last I see of her as Mom drags me by the arm through the mall, like I’m some belligerent five-year-old. I don’t want her to touch me and I yank my arm away.

“Ow!” she cries, and rubs her wrist.

My gut sinks. I’ve done this before, hurt her by accident. I’ll move too fast or turn a corner too sharp and completely take her out. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”

She pushes back the sleeve of her coat, and underneath her whole forearm is red from where I wrenched her off me. “You’ve got to be more careful,” she mutters.

We find the car in the garage and get in. Our doors slam shut, and I wait for Mom to start in on me. Start tearing me a new one about ditching school and how bad I’m punished. To go off on Jamie, the whole nine yards. But she doesn’t. It’s as quiet as a coffin. The streets slip away and it starts to rain. Blocks tick by and the car wends its way up to the front entrance of the school. The wipers swish back and forth, and we both sit in the car.

“Just…hop out.” A thin layer of tears sits heavy in her eyes. “I’ll see you at home.”

“Mom.”

“You wrecked the basement, you threw your best friend out of the house, and now you’re skipping school to go to the mall with Jamie, and I’m supposed to sit here and take it? What’s next? Drugs?”

“We’re not on drugs.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Her gaze follows the windshield wipers. “I met with my boss this morning. They want to send me to Pittsburgh for a meeting. I’ve been killing myself to get a promotion and if I do well, this could be it. We need the money. College is coming. This is my moment, but I don’t know if I can leave you for two days.”

“I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”

“Not if that girl’s in the picture.”

“She’s a friend. You said there’s nothing wrong with having friends.”

“I don’t think Jamie is a healthy influence.”

“She is.” I’m doing my best to protect her from JP, and if that means having my mom mad at me forever, so be it. “You just don’t like her because she’s trans, is that it?”

“Don’t start with that. Her being trans has nothing to do with it. I’m lying awake at night because you are going through a really hard time right now, and the last thing you need is some confused individual with a complicated history to throw a wrench in the works.”

“You make it sound like I’m a cotton gin.”

She grits her teeth. “You fell off a roof, Dylan. You said it was all an accident and a misunderstanding and you were fine. I’m starting to doubt myself in letting you tell me what you needed.”

“But that’s got nothing to do with Jamie!”

“I’m not fond of Jamie because you, of all people, are skipping school to see her.”

I can’t tell Mom why. She’ll never believe that her precious JP, who said grace with her at every dinner, has turned into a full-blown asshole.

“I’m going to tell work I can’t go,” she says.

“Don’t. You work really hard. Get your promotion.”

“A promotion’s not worth it if my kid is falling apart.”

“Look at me,” I say. She does. “Do I look like I’m falling apart?” Strong like bull, sturdy like ox, ain’t nothing bothering me, nope. Everything is HUNKY-DORY. I add a smile because I’m the only one who can sell it.