Teaching Nostalgia [Gumlee]

Chapter 7

"Scared of my own image, scared of my own immaturity, Scared of my own ceiling, scared I'll die of uncertainty, Fear might be the death of me, fear leads to anxiety, Don't know what's inside of me... Don't forget about me..." I reread the lyrics in my head, wishing I had more room to write on the napkin. Maybe I shouldn't write so big. And maybe get more notebooks.

"Marshall, are you even listening to me?" A female voice interrupted me thoughts.

"Huh? What was that?"

"For heavens sake, Marshall," my mom sighed through the phone. "I asked if you wanted to meet for dinner tonight. I haven't seen you in forever and I miss my only son!" She cried.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't know, are you gonna try and force me to work at your stupid job again?" I joked, unamused. Anytime my mom wants to sit down and chat with me, it's always about her wanting me to help run her boring attorney business.

"What, a mother can't have dinner with her son? Who do you think I am?" She asked rhetorically. 'A heartless bitch,' is what I wanted to say. "I'll pick you up in an hour and we can eat and do whatever you want, sound good?" She was definitely up to something... I can't remember the last time she was this nice.

"Whatever, alright," I sighed, switching the phone to the other ear.

"Don't sound so miserable!" She said. "Look, I'm trying to be a good mother. I messed up in the past, I know, but I'm trying to get better at this whole thing... You better be ready in an hour or else I'm gonna beat your ass, got it? Don't keep me waiting."

"Alright alright, I'll be ready, jeez." I hung up the phone. What have I gotten myself into? I ran a hand through my hair, looking at the small white napkin with lyrics written all over it. "I guess I'll have to finish this later," I sighed and sat up from my couch, walking up stairs to get ready.

>>>>><<<<<

I looked at myself in the mirror, setting down the hair dryer on the bathroom counter. "Better get this over with." A car horn blasted outside, signaling that my mother had arrived. Exactly one hour after our phone call. I contemplated whether I should make her wait on purpose or not, but I figured I'd give her a break just this once. I grabbed my keys, wallet, and phone, and headed out the door.

"Marshall! It's good to see you! How are you?" My mom asked, giving me a side hug once I sat down in the car.

"Fine. Good to see you too." I hugged her back.

"You look nice. Are those new jeans? And is that cologne you're wearing? You smell nice." My mom bombarded as she pulled out of my driveway. Before I could answer any of them she started asking more questions. "Who's car is that? Is that yours?" She asked, referencing to the black car in the driveway.

"No, it's... Simone's. She's letting me borrow it for a while," I said awkwardly, not wanting to make her angry. My mom was quiet for a second.

"...oh. I see. How nice of her," she said in a tone that pretended to sound nice, but clearly held deep hatred behind it.

"Yeah..." I said, not really sure what to say next.

The next 20 minutes went by slow and quiet, neither of us saying a word the rest of the trip. The car was filled of tension, like a thick cloud between us.