The Ex Files

Kryptic Kommando and Sweet Dreams

This is it, Eleanor thought. Time to put my foot down.

She had washed her face to erase any traces of weakness or tears. She had talked to herself sternly. Even if it broke her heart, Patrick had to go back to his father. Jared was a professional. He could afford to pay for counseling, tuition, and anything else Patrick needed to become a responsible, productive citizen. She had nothing to offer but her debt load and spineless compliance.

Tough love. Tough love.

Who am I kidding? I'm bringing Patrick a pillow he doesn't need, and a stupid beach towel because I hope he remembers how close we used to be. Even if I tell him to leave, he knows it's not happening tonight. Actions speak louder than words.

She stood, clutching her burden to her chest, watching Hal and Pat. They were obviously enjoying themselves, keeping up a stream of chatter.

Yeah ... now !  Hurry!

Let's go ... Bogies at eight o'clock!

WHAM! ... See that?

 Gotcha! Good shot! 

 No – not again – NOOO!

The screen exploded. GAME OVER. A perfect time to intervene.

"Time to break it up," Eleanor said, trying to sound like the Voice of Authority. To her own ears, it was more the Voice of Frustrated Motherhood.

Patrick looked up from his controller. "Hi Mom." 

"We're trying to get to the big boss on level 11 of Kryptic Kommando," Hal explained. "That's quite the game."

Eleanor skewered him with her eyes. "Go home, Hal. I'm sure you have appointments tomorrow."

Hal looked at his watch. "Oh my gosh, you're right!  We'll have to finish this some other time, Pat."

"Can I stay over at your place?" Patrick said. "We can continue in the morning."

"I have only one bed," Hal said.

"I'll sleep on the couch."

"You know I'd love to have you, but it would be a lease violation. It takes a lot of paperwork to arrange for an overnight guest."

A lease violation? He doesn't even own his condo? Or is he just lying to get Patrick off his back?

Patrick looked soulful. "We were having so much fun. I don't want to stop."

Hal hauled himself to his feet. "Me neither. But I have to earn a living."

"Good-bye, Hal," Eleanor said pointedly.

Please go away and don't come back.

"Thanks for coffee," Hal said, and headed up the stairs.

"Be careful the cat doesn't get out!" Eleanor called after him.

"Can I sleep in the loft?" Patrick asked. "If that foam pad is still there, all I need is the comforter and a couple of pillows."

"Sorry, not an option. Everything has been cleared out of there. I'm showing the loft to prospective tenants."

Eleanor dumped the pillow and the towel on the couch. She thought of sitting down so she could be eyeball to eyeball with her son, and decided that it would be more impressive if she stayed on her feet and looked down at him.

"This is your last night here. Do you understand?"

Patrick looked stricken. "It's my birthday tomorrow. You can't throw me out on my birthday."

Eleanor felt like she had been punched in the stomach. How could she have forgotten this day of days? The last minutes of Patrick's teenagerhood had ticked away, and she hadn't noticed.

"I wasn't expecting you. I don't have a cake, or presents, or anything."

"The only present I want is for you to let me stay."

"I can't. Go home."

"I am home."

Eleanor's eyes filled with tears again. These were the words she had longed to hear for the past twenty years. Maybe they could make it work. They had to make it work. Somehow. He was her son and she was his mother.

She took two steps forward, leaned over, and kissed his forehead.

"Good night, Pat. Sweet dreams."

She turned away, heading towards the stairs. He stood up and followed her, squeezing her in a bear hug from behind.

"Good night, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too."

She stood perfectly still, enveloped by the warmth of her son's body, remembering the little boy who had thrown himself into her arms with complete abandon. This was her moment. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.