Control Freak ✔️

06 don't go

Caleb shoved the door open to his mother's house and was immediately greeted by the aroma of warm food emanating from the kitchen stove. He took his shoes off and darted upstairs. He stormed to his bedroom and shut the door behind him, and then he raced to his pillow and embraced it tightly. He couldn't sleep, so instead he lay there, allowing a silent tear to careen across his nose and down his other cheek as he watched the orange bleed into dusk. His mom delicately pressed the door open.

"Sweetie?"

Caleb didn't respond. She glided to his bedside, and let her warm fingers comb through his curls. "Sweetie, who's hurting you?" she softly asked. She heard the tiny hiccup her son made whenever he tried to talk while crying. She didn't press him any further. She pet him on the head and kissed him. She left and returned shortly with a plate of dinner and left it on his nightstand.

From the other room, Caleb could hear his mother arguing with his father about what happened. His mom rarely yelled. It made his stomach hurt. Somehow he had made his parents' relationship worse. Why did she have to get herself involved? he thought. He slammed his pillowcase with his fist as he sobbed. She's always getting in the way. Always. Always, he silently cursed. She was bargaining and pleading with his father like he was some sort of defenseless infant left on his doorstep. He curled himself in a ball and pulled his pillow over his ears to drown it out while everything inside of him screamed for her to stop.

He hated her: this woman his father discarded and left to decay and beg for crumbs of his time and resources. And she was attached, inseparably, to Caleb. He wanted to rip her off of him, the way he wanted to rip the stuffing out of his pillow. But, his tears had drained him, and eventually, he found himself drifting into a deep sleep. As he drifted off, he conjured an inkling of a fancy that grew into a wish: a guilty fantasy to tickle the back of his mind. He imagined all of the people in the world that he hated, and one by one, he erased them. He imagined their smirking faces souring over with looks of horror as they dissipated into the atmosphere, leaving nothing behind but the clothes they were wearing. He hated Max. He hated Ivy. He hated Crystal. He erased them all. With each one, as they evaporated, his smile grew bigger. As the tears dried on his cheeks, he went to sleep smiling.

His dreams were punctuated by the incoming sunlight of a late morning, as the sound of birds chirping permeated the walls of his bedroom. The smell of his mom's cooking invaded his nostrils and made his stomach growl, a reminder that he hadn't eaten last night's meal and instead left it to sit at his bedside. His eyes were still red and glossy from crying, and the salt trails were still present on his cheeks.

"Caleb? Caleb! Are you out of bed! Come down and eat breakfast! " he heard his mom shout from the other side of the wall.

"Coming," he mumbled before trudging down the stairs.

"How are you feeling today, honey?" she asked as she scooped a portion of cheesy scrambled eggs onto his plate, followed by chunks of ground sausage.

"Fine."

"I talked to your father last night."

"I know," he growled.

"He agreed that we should have a talk with the school about the boys who are bullying you."

"Will you just butt out, mom!" he exploded, slamming his fist against the tiny wooden table and nearly tipping over his glass of orange juice. He settled back into his chair and took a deep breath.

"Sorry. I just... can I be excused?" he said, already standing up from his chair. He hadn't touched his food. He rushed to the door and grabbed his jacket.

"Caleb," she whimpered. "I just worry about you, that's all. Is that a crime? I'm your mom."

"You can't help, you just make things worse," he grumbled as he slid his arm through one of the sleeves and rushed upstairs. "I'm goin' to the arcade."

"Be careful. I love you."

He charged up the steps to grab his backpack, while she remained downstairs washing dishes. The cheap plates made a racket as she hand-washed them and racked them. He scoffed as he heard her drop one and it shattered on the floor. He expected to hear the sound of her steps scrambling to the closet for a broom, but didn't. He came down the stairs and slid his heels into his sneakers. As he reached for the door, an impulse caused him to look back at her one last time. His eyes shot wide open.

"Mom!" he cried out.

Caleb sat next to her hospital bed that evening with his head far below his shoulders, paying no attention to everyone that shuffled by in that stuffy hallway. A nurse stopped in front of his father, who was standing next to his new young wife outside, as she clung to his arm and rubbed his chest, as if she could make it any more obvious.

"The cancer is advancing," began the nurse. "At this point, we're not sure if she will ever be able to recover. Right now, I would certainly advise against her living alone or trying to take care of herself. Are the two of you..."

"Divorced."

"I see. Is there anyone in either yours or her immediate family that is living with her now?"

"My son should not be burdened with this. He shouldn't have to see his mother like this, it's not good for him. We will find her a live-in nurse."

"Does her insurance cover that?" blurted the young woman with a fake air of concern.

"We will take care of it, Crystal."

"But... what about Caleb? Will he share the house with a live-in nurse?"

"His mother and I have been discussing allowing me to take full custody of him. I'm sure she will agree that it's in his best interest that I get him out of this environment as soon as possible. He's got some behavioral issues that require treatment and close attention, and she's in no condition to raise a teenage boy."

Caleb reached for his mother's hand as she greeted him with her sleepy eyes. For a while, he sat there, fidgeting with his lips as they wouldn't stop trembling. He dared not look her in the eyes, for fear they would break him.

"Hi, Caleb," she whimpered sweetly. He shuffled his feet as he watched his shoelaces. "My sweet baby boy."

"Hi, mom," Caleb's voice cracked as he finally spoke.

"I'm so sorry. Mom's just not as strong as she used to be. I probably scared you."

"No, mom, it's okay," he sniveled. His face began to scrunch up and he hid his nose in the neck hole of his shirt. "They're going to take me away, though."

"I think that's for the best. Go with your father. He'll be able to provide for you and give you a great life. Better than I could. Your mother's very sick. And I can't protect you—"

"Mom!" He threw himself across her lap. "I'm sorry, Mom! I'm sorry for being bad! I'm sorry for not doing my chores! I'll take care of you! I can do it!"

"Oh, Caleb, it's not your fault," she whispered, petting his curls the way she always did.

"Son, it's time to go," his father commanded as he entered the room. In his dark suit and tall stature, he loomed over the bed like a monolith. He put his hand on Caleb's shoulder.

"It's time to let your mother rest."

Caleb's eyes shot wide. His heart was pounding so loudly he could feel it in his eardrums. He saw his mother's eyelids descending. He clutched her blankets and shook at them.

"Mom? Mom! What if I don't wanna go! Mom! Please! I don't wanna leave you, Mom!"

"Let's hurry up and get out of here, darling, he's causing a scene," he heard Crystal mutter her poisonous venom into his father's ear loud enough for Caleb to discern. "Poor thing, she's probably put him through so much."

It sent him raving. His father scooped him from underneath his armpits but he wouldn't let go of her blankets. There was nothing he could do but watch his mother get smaller and smaller. No matter how much he yelled, his voice could no longer reach her.