Page 27 of Don’t Call Me Son

About ten minutes into the walk, I’m silently counting the paving slabs under my feet… one, two, three… a dumb little distraction to make the journey feel less endless. The sun is still warm on my back, but my chest feels tight and heavy.

A vehicle slows down on the road beside me. I frown at first, worried it might be some creep, until I hear Colt’s voice shout out the window. “Archie! There you are!”

I sigh deeply and keep my eyes glued to the pavement, jaw clenched tight. I don’t look at him.

He keeps the truck rolling slowly beside me. “Archie, get in, please.”

I flip him off without even turning my head; it’s petty as hell, but I can’t be bothered right now. I already feel like absolute shit for my mom. The last thing I need is to look at Colt’s face.

“Oh, real mature, kid…” he calls out. “Come on, let me just talk.”

I inhale sharply and wish more than anything I had my headphones on. I just shake my head and keep walking. Of course, Colt doesn’t give up though. Why would he?

I notice the traffic light up ahead turning red and time it perfectly. The second the truck has to stop behind the line of cars, I bolt; legs pumping hard, using every bit of speed I’ve got from track. I cut down a side street to lose him completely.

I have no right to be this mad, but I can’t help it; so, I let myself feel it. Jay will probably cheer me up later easily.

When I finally get to my street, I take the narrow back path; the little dirt track that cars can’t fit down. It’s mostly used by joggers and cyclists, but right now it’s perfect.

I reach home and open the backyard gate quietly and slip through, heading for the back door that leads straight into the laundry room. I can see Mom moving around in the kitchen through the window, so hopefully I can sneak in and out without her noticing.

I unlock the door as silently as possible and creep inside. As soon as I’m in, I hear the familiar rumble of Colt’s truck pulling into the driveway. Shit. I scramble upstairs as quietly as I can, heart pounding. Mom doesn’t seem to have noticed me.

I get into my room, lock the door behind me with a soft click, and drop to my knees. I yank the duffel bag out from under my bed and start throwing things in… clothes, chargers, my laptop. I even laugh for a second when I remember Jay’s comment about socks and toss a few pairs in. I don’t even know if Jay will let me stay long-term, but I can’t stay here; I just can’t.

A few minutes later I hear Colt’s muffled voice through the floor. “Love, did you leave the back door open?”

Then more murmuring for a minute or so… then footsteps coming up the stairs. Fuck. I zip the bag shut, sling it over my shoulder, and stare at the door handle as it starts to wiggle.

“Archie, you okay, sweetie?” Mom’s voice comes softly through the door.

I run a hand down my face and answer, “Of course, Mom.”

She sighs; probably able to hear it in my voice, that I’m not. “I’m sorry you saw that, sweetheart. We thought you’d still be at college.”

I let out a bitter little laugh. “It’s fine, Mom. I don’t care.”

I brace myself, holding my duffel, then unlock the door and swing it open. Mom’s standing right there, looking worried. Colt is right behind her, jaw tight, eyes burning with everything he clearly wants to say but can’t while she’s here. I push past them both without another word and head for the stairs.

“Archie, where are you going?” Mom asks, following me.

I jog down the stairs, bag bouncing on my shoulder. “I’m off to stay with Jay.”

She catches up to me at the bottom and gently grabs my shoulders, turning me to face her. “What? Why?”

I look at her, trying to keep my voice steady. “Mom, I’m an adult now. I already feel like a guest here. I’m just gonna crash with Jay for a bit and find my own place to live. Maybe look into getting a student loan and moving into a dorm room.”

She shakes her head, frowning. “Because you saw us having sex? That seems a bit drastic, son.”

I know she means well, she really does, but she just doesn’t get it.

“Mom, this is what I want,” I say quietly. “You two should be able to do whatever you want in your home, without worrying about a twenty-year-old being around.”

She lets go of my shoulders, looking hurt but unsure what else to say.

I turn toward the front door; It’s already unlocked from when Colt came in earlier.

“Archie, wait,” Colt says behind me, his voice is layered with a pleading that suggests he’d rather my mom wasn’t standing there right now, but I’m glad she is.