Chapter 15: Which One Am I Supposed to Call Mommy?

Chapter 15: Which One Am I Supposed to Call Mommy?

The echo of our laughter bounced off the school’s brick walls, a carefree symphony to the end of another monotonous day. Erica’s fart had been the punchline to an otherwise dull afternoon, and we reveled in the surprise of it all.

‘Man, it reeks of shit. This is one of the worst farts I’ve ever smelt in my life.’

She was doubled over, her flowing hair dancing with each breathless chuckle, while I clutched my stomach, feeling the strain of laughter in my abs.

“Who knew the school burritos could be so... explosive,” she gasped out, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Everyone!” I snorted, shaking my head at her shitty joke. Moments like this, unfiltered and genuine, made the walk to her car the highlight of my day.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through our laughter. “Hi, guys!”

We turned to see Lindsey Carter standing there, her neon blue hair a stark contrast against the muted brick of the school. She was impeccably dressed as always, her designer blouse and tailored slacks making our school uniforms look downright shabby in comparison.

‘Justine told me she’s rich as fuck. Something about being related to the Koch sisters. No idea what that meant, though, So I just assumed another woman coasting off money from the slave trade, probably.’ I sighed at the ever-growing old money problem in my life.

Erica’s eyes widened in surprise, her laughter dying down to a soft chuckle. “Lindsey? Holy shit, I didn’t know you were back in town!” She straightened up, her tone shifting from playful to something more polite, almost guarded. “We should definitely hang out sometime, catch up, and all that.”

Lindsey’s brown eyes widened, flicking between Erica and me in surprise. Her perfectly manicured hand clutched her designer handbag a little tighter. “Oh, I didn’t realize you two were...” she trailed off, her voice soft and measured. “Together?”

Erica’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me close with a possessive grip that made me almost melt on the spot. I could feel the warmth of her body against mine, smell the faint scent of her cigarettes mixed with the rose smell that followed her from her house.

“Yeah, Jason, here is my boyfriend,” Erica declared proudly, her voice carrying a hint of challenge. Her blue eyes sparkled with a fierce protectiveness as she gazed at Lindsey. “We’ve been together for a while now. Isn’t that right, baby?”

I nodded, feeling happy to have someone so proud to call me hers. “Y-yeah, it’s been for a bit now.” I stammered, hyper-aware of Erica’s fingers digging into my hip and trying to avoid getting a hard.

Lindsey’s smile faltered for a split second before returning, a bit too bright. “That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you both,” she said, her voice maintaining its soft, polite tone. But there was a slight edge to it now.

She glanced at her watch, an expensive-looking piece that probably cost more than my sister’s car. “Oh, would you look at the time? I really should get going. But we should definitely hang out this weekend and catch up properly.”

Erica’s grip on me loosened slightly. “Yeah, for sure. We’ll set something up,” she replied, her tone excited to see an old friend. “Let’s get wasted Saturday.” Erica looked like a kid excited for a sleepover.

Lindsey nodded, her neon blue hair catching the late afternoon sun. “Yeah, that sounds great! I’ll text you later, Erica. It was nice seeing you both.” With a small wave, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking rhythmically on the pavement.

As we watched her retreat, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted in the air around us. Erica’s arm was still around me, but her body had tensed like a coiled spring ready to snap.

I was surprised Erica had a friend who seemed so shy, but since they’re both rich, it made sense.

As we walked to her car, she gave me her ‘fuck me’ eyes, and I immediately had my switch flipped. Half chubbed and excited about what was to come.

But something terrible reared its evil head as we passed the bike racks. Parked alongside the curb, its black and blue paint glinting under the subdued glow of the sun, was my mother’s squad car. A hulking SUV that seemed to exude authority from every polished surface.

“Shit,” Erica muttered under her breath, her posture stiffening. The lightness in her eyes was replaced by a sharp wariness, a stark contrast to the defiant delinquent bravado I’d come to admire.

Mother sat inside, her silhouette rigid and imposing against the leather driver’s seat. Her eyes locked onto us through the tinted window, a silent command for attention that neither of us could ignore. With a sigh that carried the weight of resignation, I watched her roll down the window with a press of a button.

“Erica, Jason, get in. We’re grabbing an early dinner,” she announced, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“Um, why?” I asked, trying to mask the quiver of trepidation in my tone.

“Just get in the fucking car,” Mother replied curtly, her gaze not wavering from Erica’s grimacing face.

There was a beat of silence as Erica and I exchanged a glance. It was one of those looks that said a thousand words. Shared unease and the acknowledgment that we were stepping into uncertain territory. But it was also filled with an unspoken agreement. We were in this together.

“Fine,” Erica conceded, her voice low but steady as she tossed the keys she’d been twirling on her finger back into her bag. I followed her lead, and the two of us approached the vehicle with cautious steps.

As I climbed into the backseat, the scent of leather and faint perfume enveloped me—the signature mark of my mother’s presence. I settled into the familiar embrace of the car’s interior, stealing a glance toward Erica, who now sat beside me. Her usual air of control seemed to wane under my mother’s scrutinizing stare, yet there remained a fierce determination in her posture.

***

The clinking of ceramic and the murmur of conversations surrounded us in Kowloon, a Chinese restaurant that my mother favored for its dim lighting. I fiddled with my fork, trying to avoid the intensity of her gaze, which, like twin searchlights, seemed determined to expose any secrets Erica and I might be harboring.

“Try the chicken wings, Jason. They’re exceptional here,” my mother suggested, her voice cutting through the ambient noise with the precision of a detective interrogating a suspect.

‘She gets take out from here like once a month. I know the chicken wings are good. Maybe other Jason didn’t use to eat with her?’

“Thanks, Mom,” I replied, eager to break the tension that had settled over our table like a thick fog.

Next to me, Erica’s posture was rigid, her hands resting on the edge of the lacquered table. She was never one to back down from a challenge, but I could tell she was weighing her words carefully, trying to navigate the situation with a finesse I hadn’t often seen from her.

“Ma’am, how’s work been treating you?” Erica ventured, her tone polite yet laced with the slightest hint of her usual defiance. It was a delicate dance of respect and self-preservation.

My mother’s lips curled into a tight smile, not quite reaching her eyes. “You don’t care about my job, Erica,” she retorted, her tone sharp as shards of broken glass. The air between them crackled, charged with unspoken conflict.

Erica’s blue eyes flashed with irritation. She held her ground, her expression softening as she sighed, a rare concession to the atmosphere at the table.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” Erica said, her voice low but firm, “But I’m asking, aren’t I?”

I watched as my mother’s eyes narrowed slightly, appraising Erica’s response. She took a slow sip from her glass, the ice clinking against the sides, and finally let out a weary sigh, the kind that spoke of long days and thankless nights.

“Busy. Complicated. As usual,” Mother conceded, the closest thing to an admission of vulnerability I’d heard from her in a long time. There was a momentary lull, a chance for peace, as the waiter arrived with another steaming pu pu platter, momentarily distracting us from the taut wire of our conversation.

‘Oh my, this pu pu platter has one of those open flames in the center.’ I reach instinctively like a moth to the flame but my wrist is grabbed by both women.

Mother’s expression hardened, her jaw set in a rigid line. “Love and family are important, but they’re not everything. Jason needs to be able to stand on his own two feet, to have a sense of purpose beyond just being... taken care of.”

Erica laughed, a melodious sound that seemed to dance through the air. “Oh, Emily. Men are nurturers, caregivers, and the emotional backbone of a perfect family. I am already equipped to give him everything he needs to shine.”

Mother’s eyes narrowed, her voice laced with skepticism. “And you think you’re the one to provide all that for Jason? Please. I’ve seen girls like you come and go. You’re probably just playing around, testing your limits. In a year, you’ll be off to College, forgetting all about this little... infatuation.”

Erica’s eyes flashed dangerously, her posture straightening as she leaned across the table. “Infatuation? Emily, you have no idea. I would marry your son right now if he’d have me.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge. Mother sat there, stunned, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. “What?” she finally managed to sputter.

“You heard me,” Erica continued, her voice steady and sure. “I love Jason. I want to spend my life with him, give him everything he could ever want or need.”

Mother shook her head as if trying to clear it of an unpleasant fog. “No, no. This isn’t right. Jason needs independence. He needs to learn to fend for himself, to build his own life.”

I felt a surge of frustration bubble up inside me. ‘Mom and Brooke are desperate to fuck this up for me. It’s not about not working. I don’t give a fuck, I’ll work happily. I just need my Yandere wife to love me only the way she could.’

“But what if I don’t want to be independent?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “What if I want to be with Erica the way she’s offering?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Mother stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. Erica, on the other hand, looked triumphant, her hand finding mine under the table and squeezing it gently.

“Jason,” Mother began, her voice strained, “you can’t possibly mean that. What about your dreams? Your ambitions?”

I took a deep breath, feeling Erica’s warmth beside me, giving me courage. “Mother Erica is my dream. My ambition. And I mean that very literally.”

Mother’s face was crumpled, and a mix of confusion and hurt was washing over her features. “But... but what about the future? What about stability?”

I leaned forward, my voice steady and clear. “Mom, Erica is my stability. She offers me not just financial security but emotional support, unwavering love, and a partnership that transcends conventional expectations.”

My confidence in myself soars as I stand up for what I believe in, so I decide to take it one step further. “And hell, I don’t even know if I want kids.”

The words hung in the air like an atom bomb. I immediately regretted them. The atmosphere in the restaurant shifted palpably as if all the oxygen had been sucked out in an instant.

Erica’s hand, which had been gently holding mine, suddenly tightened its grip. Her nails dug into my skin, and I winced, looking up to see her blue eyes blazing with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

“You don’t know what the fuck you want,” Erica hissed, her voice low and dangerous. The playful mischief that usually danced in her eyes was replaced by a cold, hard glint. “How can you say that? Do you know how fucking low the birth rates are right now?”

Before I could respond, Mother slammed her hand on the table, causing the dishes to rattle and several nearby diners to turn and stare. Her face was flushed, a vein throbbing at her temple.

“What the fuck, Jason?” she spat, her usual composure completely shattered. “You’d be an amazing father! How can you even think about throwing that away?”

I sat there, stunned, as the two women who had been at each other’s throats moments ago suddenly found common ground in their disappointment in me.

“You have no idea how good you’d be with kids,” Mother continued, her voice rising with each word. “Remember how you used to take care of your little cousin? How patient you were? How gentle?”

‘Literally no. That wasn’t me.’ I think to myself.

Erica nodded vigorously, her grip on my hand still vice-like. “She’s right, Jason. You’d be the most nurturing, caring father. Our children would adore you.”

I shake my head. “I don’t really like kids.”

Erica scoffed, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Oh please, Jason. If you're just afraid of the responsibility, that's no issue at all. We'll have nannies to handle the day-to-day stuff."

She leaned in close, her lips brushing my ear as she whispered, her breath hot against my skin. "As long as you always give me the most attention, I don't mind if the kids don't know you that well. It’s not like I had a dad growing up."

A chill ran down my spine at her words, but before I could respond, Mother's voice cut through the air like a knife.

"It's men like you who are turning this country, no, the whole world, into shit!" she exclaimed, her face flushed with anger. Several nearby diners turned to stare, but she paid them no mind. "Do you have any idea how low our birth rates are? It's a crisis, Jason. A goddamn crisis!"

Mother's hands were shaking as she gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white again. "It's your American responsibility to procreate, for God's sake! Our society is crumbling because selfish young men like you refuse to step up and be fathers."

Her words echoed through the restaurant, drawing more stares. A waiter hovered nervously nearby, clearly unsure whether to intervene.

"Think about it, Jason," Mother continued, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "Empty schools. Abandoned playgrounds. Whole towns dying out because there aren't enough children to keep them alive. Is that the future you want?"

Erica nodded vigorously, her earlier anger seemingly forgotten in the face of this new common ground with my mother. "She's right, you know. It's practically your civic duty to have children. Strong, healthy children to carry on our legacy."

I sat there, feeling like I was caught in a surreal nightmare. The two women who had been at each other's throats moments ago were now united in their fervent desire for me to procreate.

"But I-" I started, only to be cut off by Erica.

"No buts, Jason," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I've already picked out names for our first three. Wouldn't you like to meet little Millicent.?" She spoke sarcastically with another shit-eating grin.

I almost did a spit take at her words.

Mother nodded approvingly. "That's more like it. You see, Jason? This is the kind of forward-thinking woman our country needs."

I looked from one to the other, feeling trapped. The flame of the pu pu platter flickered between us, casting dancing shadows across their determined faces. At that moment, I realized that despite their differences, these two formidable women were more alike than they knew, and I was caught squarely in the middle of their shared vision for my future.

“You have my word as a proud American woman. If you give me your blessing to marry your son, I will ring at least five, nay, six children out of your son.” Erica spoke with the confidence of a Boston priest meeting a new choir boy.

‘Oh, I wonder if it was choir girls in this world?’ I marvel at how things reflect here.

Mother’s eyes flicked back and forth between Erica and me. She nodded. “Let's call it an informal engagement for now. You can make it more real after graduation. He seems to be head over heels for you anyway. If I knew he was so anti-kid, I would have done something sooner, but you might be his only chance to not live such a selfish life.”

Erica’s eyes widened as if she expected a no. Then her smile became twisted into something much scarier as she looked at me like I was her property in a more official capacity. I melted at the thought.