Manhattan

05.

THE SOUND OF heavy metal rock music greeted Aidan when he got home. He immediately clamped his hands over his ears, kicking the door shut quickly behind him.

"Mom!" he shouted, even though he knew there was no point. There was no way he could be heard over this. The sound only got worse as he made his way to the kitchen, and his hands did nothing to muffle the sounds. His ears were surely going to bleed.

"Mom! What-" He stopped short as he was met with a horrifying sight. His mom was on her knees, her red hair flying wild as she rocked her head back and forth, her hands moving in a motion that was probably supposed to be an impersonation of playing an air guitar. For a moment, all Aidan could do was stare at the terrifying scene in front of him, before he came to his senses and lunged for the radio, slamming his hand on the off button, effectively cutting off the terrible screeching.

His mother looked up from her position on the floor while Aidan stared back with wide eyes. Finally, his mom broke the awkward silence.

"Aidan," she said, getting up. "I've got great news!"

Aidan raised an eyebrow. "I can see that."

His mom blushed. "Oh, you know..." she said, gesturing at the radio."I just got excited."

Aidan stared at his mom with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "I can see that."

His mother laughed, then engulfed Aidan with a massive hug that made him feel as though he'd been hit by a tow truck.

"Mom - ow - what -"

When she pulled back she had tears in her eyes.

"Mom?" Aidan said. "Are you -"

"I'm fine, sweetheart," she replied, sniffling. "Just have a seat. I have so much to tell you."

Aidan sat, removing his camera from around his neck while his mother made them coffee (three spoons of sugar each - and yes, Aidan knew it wasn't healthy, but he really couldn't stand the bitter taste of coffee without the three spoons. And besides, that's how his dad had always had his coffee.) She set two mugs on the table, sliding one to Aidan. After a few sips, his mother reached across the table and took his hand.

"Alright," his mother said, getting straight to the point. He was glad his mother was a more straightforward type of person, and not one for small talk. "So, you remember how I used to sell my art online? We ran that website - your father and I - before he, well . . . you know." Aidan flinched at the way his mother's voice still cracked, even after three years, but nodded. Her hands went to fidget with her wedding ring, which Aidan knew meant she was nervous. She cleared her throat.

"Well, a few months back, I started it again." She looked at Aidan nervously; as if afraid she'd done something bad.

Aidan smiled at her. "That's great, Mom," he said, and he meant it too. Aidan knew that his father's passing had been an unexpected curve ball, had thrown them all off track. And he knew his mother had suffered a lot more than she'd let on, and Aidan was glad that she had been getting her life back together again.

"Really? You don't think it's . . . selfish, or - or, an insult to his memory to continue it without him?" she asked.

Aidan shook his head. "No. No, definitely not." He placed his hand over his mother's. "And I think, I think if Dad were here, he'd be proud. And happy."

His mother gave him a watery smile, and squeezed his hand. Then she took a deep breath.

"Right, well. I didn't really have much hope for it, you know. I didn't think I'd get any sales. But." She paused here, and Aidan knew it was for dramatic effect. He rolled his eyes. "This morning, I checked the website again, after you left for class. And I couldn't even believe it - there was an offer, Aidan. Someone wanted me to paint something for them."