Lockers and Boxers (boyxboy)

Chapter XVII - Mrs. West

 Gabe immediately moves back from me. I turn toward the voice, seeing a short woman standing in the hallway with her arms crossed. "Oh, uh," Gabe starts. He's clearly nervous, as am I. "Mom, this is Jake, Jake, this is my mom." I raise my hand in an awkward wave. She only squints at me.

"Is this who I always hear you talking to?" I look down at my pancake, feeling unwelcome to the conversation at hand. I open the bottle of syrup and drizzle it over my plate.

"I don't think we talk all that much, but yeah. We call sometimes. Homework and whatnot." I can feel his mom's eyes on me, burning the back of my head like lasers. I concentrate on my pancake as though it's the most interesting thing I've ever seen.

"I haven't seen Mark in a while. Why's that?" I press my fork down, taking a hunk of syrup-soaked pancake.

"Well... we just haven't been hanging out as much."

"Is this about a girl, Gabriel?" I almost choke on my pancake. Quite the opposite, really, I'm tempted to say. "I miss Grace. She was a good girl — a good, Christian girl." I watch Gabe grip onto the counter, his knuckles turning white.

"No, it's not about a girl. We've grown apart, I guess. It's normal."

"Grown apart? After 17 years?" She questions. 17 years, I think. That really is a long time, especially considering that I've only known him for a solid two months. "I still think this is about a girl. You boys were always competitive."

"It's not about a girl, Mom," Gabe repeats. He tightens his grip on the counter, transferring his anger there instead of into his voice. "I think we both need to see who we are when we're not conjoined at the hip. We've always had the same friend group, been in the same sports, even had the same shoes! I don't want to go into college feeling lost because I've only ever had one really good friend in my life." Put this boy in the speech and debate club! Actually, scratch that; that'd feed his ego too much.

"You shouldn't let your friendships go because you're afraid of college. You can't replace Mark with someone else; he's your best friend." Gabe's knuckles get even whiter. I'm afraid that if he grips any harder, he'll burst a blood vessel.

"I'm not replacing Mark. I just made a new friend. Is that ok with you?" Gabe's mom sighs.

"I'm just looking out for you, Gabriel. It's my job." That's a line straight out of my mom's playbook. My prying is justified because I gave birth to you, is what it really means.

"I appreciate that, Mom, but I can handle this myself."

"Ok, ok," his mom says. "I'll leave you be." She walks around the island, not looking at me, and goes to the coffee pot. She presses the "Start" button, and the machine responds with an affirmative beep! She comes over and sits at the island, leaving a seat between us.

"Well, Jacob, what sports do you play?" Gabe's mom asks, turning to me. It feels odd to be directly acknowledged after being ignored for the past few minutes. Gabe returns to the oven, resuming the pancakes.

"Oh, I don't play any." She furrows her eyebrows at me, looking confused. She actually resembles Gabe quite a bit, with the same wavy black hair, though hers is shoulder-length, and similar tan skin. He must have gotten the amber eyes from her.

"No sports? Then what do you do for fun?" Sleep. Eat. Masturbate. Kiss your son. What am I supposed to say?

"I like to... run." Run away from my problems, more like.

"Hmm, that must be why you're so skinny." I do my best to keep a straight face. Bitch! Gabe turns toward the island.

"Mom! You're being rude. You can't just say that to people." She turns to him.