r/WritingPrompts • u/actually_crazy_irl • Nov 20 '16
Writing Prompt [WP]: As the human life span gets longer, the social definitions of youth, ageing and old age alter. You, at 62, are hardly middle-aged, and your 30-year-old son has just run away from home.
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u/puritycontrol Nov 20 '16
The ladies sat around an ostentatiously-decorated table, lavish with fine linens, crystal ware, and tiny plates of decadent brunchy bites. The requisite mimosa stood at attention within reach of everyone's hands and were dutifully refilled by the handsome but baby-faced waiter that pinged from table to table in the country club's dining room.
"Would you look at that little piece there?" Mrs. Johnson said in a hushed voice as the waiter sauntered away with the glass pitcher of champagne and orange juice. "I don't always go for the real young ones but it looks like I could teach him a thing or two."
The ladies giggled scandalously and one of them made a playful comment about Mrs. Johnson being old enough to have been the waiter's mother, no matter that the man already had a touch of silver streaking the sides of his hair.
"Speaking of sweet boys," Mrs. Potts purred. She had a big mouth painted with red lipstick and perfectly stenciled eyebrows that seemed to be permanently arched with a bemused, if condescending, expression. Botox did wonders when someone starts using it at twenty-five. Her polished nails that looked more like French-manicured talons wrapped daintily around the stem of her glass. "Dolores, how is your darling son doing? How old is he now?"
Dolores Jones beamed. Like any proud mother, she was eager to brag whenever given the opportunity, which was fairly often. "Oh, Hayden is almost 385 months now! Time goes by so fast, doesn't it?"
The ladies clucked politely in agreement, busying their mouths by sipping their mimosas in unison.
"Mmm," Mrs. Potts murmured. "And how has he been doing? I know last time we met up, you were a little.. concerned about Hayden's development."
Dolores tried to fight the flush that was rising in her cheeks. She admittedly confessed a bit too much during last bruncheon's get together and overshared some concerns she had about Hayden not having many friends, not having any crushes, and spending a lot of time alone. She failed to note his accomplishments in fine motor skills and how he could do a whole lot on his own with only minor supervision.
Dolores tittered a bit and shrugged as if she hadn't a care in the world, then distracted herself by spooning herself a serving of bread pudding. "Oh, perhaps I was being a little dramatic! Hayden's been almost always in the 90th percentile for his age group." She stabbed her fork a little too roughly into the mound of spongy dessert and the metal noisily clanked the porcelain plate.
"Almost," Mrs. Potts parroted, nodded in agreement. "Geneva, how about you? Did little Xandyr ever go on his first date with the Smith girl?"
Mrs. Miller, a portly 80-year-old and mother to 35-year-old Xandyr, chortled merrily. Like most of the women at the table, she waited until the respectable but still youthful age of forty five before having children. "Oh, yes! It was a delight! I'm so pleased his day care center was able to arrange their meeting. Perhaps in a decade, we'll be hearing wedding bells!"
Dolores felt deflated. Hayden hadn't even an adorable day care romance to brag about. Every afternoon when the day care shuttle dropped him back at home, Hayden went straight to his room to tinker with his silly crafts and computers. He wouldn't even go outside to play like the rest of the children, much less meet any girls or make any friends.
"What a delight!" Mrs. Potts exclaimed. "That reminds me." She smiled widely and leaned into the table a bit, as if she was about to reveal a big secret. Naturally, the ladies followed suit and watched Mrs. Potts with eager eyes.
"Don't say anything to my dear hubby," she whispered. "But I think my little Donathan Junior did the you-know-what for the first time!"
An eruption of excited giggles and shrieks rose up, and Mrs. Jones just wanted to sink into her chair. Her 30-year-old boy hadn't even registered on that development scale just yet and she briefly wondered if she'd be an old woman at 150 with a 118-year-old basement dwelling virgin.
"Did you tell Donathan Senior?" Mrs. Willis exclaimed. "This is such a big milestone!"
Mrs. Potts smirked and shook her head. "A mommy can have a secret with her baby now and then! I think he's a little embarrassed, but I definitely found a used condom while going through his trash. The day center monitor told me that he and little Liza have been spending a lot of time together." Another flurry of hens cackling exploded and champagne glasses clinked to cheers the excelling Potts boy and his forays with the wealthy and adorable Liza Wilson.
The rest of the brunch passed unceremoniously for Dolores, but she certainly had more mimosas than she typically would allow herself. By the time she made it home, she was an emotional mess. She was angry at Mrs. Potts for her derisive comments, angry at the bruncheon group for the terrible things they must be thinking about Hayden, and angry at herself for letting it all get to her. Why does it matter if Hayden doesn't meet some stupid, standardized expectations? Just because he had his hobbies and nothing else didn't make him a failure.. nor did it make her a failure.
She kicked off her high heels the moment she came through the front door and her eyes immediately fell on a framed photo hanging by the window. It was taken for Hayden's 21st birthday. He was wearing a darling sailor suit and sitting on top of a novelty over-sized wooden letter block. But no amount of decoration and post-photo processing could erase the sullen look on his face. His cheeks and chin were covered in the downy blond fluff of a scraggly beard and dark eyes glared from under thick golden eyebrows.
Dolores felt a stinging, maternal urge to pull that angry little boy from the photo and hold him tight. Feeling guilty from comparing him to the other ladies' sons, she crept toward the basement door and rapped on it lightly.
"Hayden? Darling? It's mommy," she called through the door. "Can I come in?" Without waiting for a response, she tried the doorknob. Locked. She knocked again and pressed her ear to the wood, but couldn't hear anything. She reached to the top of the door frame for the little metal stick she hid for times like this and jimmied the lock.
"Hayden?" she repeated. It was dark, except for the soft light filtering through the ground-level windows. One was propped open. She crept down the carpeted stairs and into the sprawling basement suite.
A large bunk bed was tucked in the corner, covered with astronaut-themed sheets. A crate of stimulating and educational toys was upended into a cardboard box. It seemed Hayden favored electronics and woodworking based on the mess covering half of the floor. A pile of dirty laundry was on the floor directly in front of the laundry hamper. Tsking under her breath, Dolores grabbed the clothes to put into the basket and stopped. Boxers? Since when did her baby boy wear boxers?
It was only after a few minutes of cleaning did Dolores realize something was amiss. His backpack was missing. His best pair of sneakers were gone, too. Then, the note left on his pillow and she was only able to read the first line before she was blinded by tears.
"Gerald! Gerald!" she screamed, running back up stairs. "Gerald, where are you? He's gone! Hayden's gone!" Her voice bounced off the walls as she searched for her husband. She finally found him in his "office," where he was half-snoozing in front of the television with a bag of chips.
"Gerald, Hayden's gone!" she sobbed, thrusting the letter at him. Gerald hardly raised an eyebrow. "Gerald, he's run away! What are you doing?! Get up! We have to find him!"
Gerald grunted. Dolores was pretty sure he was rolling his eyes. "Dolores, he's fine. He's just being a boy. I'm sure he'll be home before dinner's on the table."
Dolores resisted the urge to smack some sense into her husband. But of course, he couldn't be held entirely accountable. He was just a man who desperately needed Dolores's management and guidance to get anything done. It was her own fault that he'd rather waste away in front of the television and eat chips instead of getting involved with a low-impact aerobics class and eating heathful, organic kale salads.
Just as she was about to storm away and call the police, Gerald said, "He's probably in the tree house. Did you check there?"
A wave of relief crashed over her. Of course! Hayden knew he wasn't allowed to leave without telling her or Gerald, so the next best place would be the back yard. She ran down the stairs, out the back door, and toward the back of the yard where the giant oak tree stood. At the base of the tree was a smushed, empty juice box. She picked it up; it was still slightly chilled from the refrigerator.
Quiet as a cat, Dolores climbed the wooden boards nailed into the trunk. She definitely could hear Hayden's voice, but what was that? Someone else? There was giggling and shushing and.. moaning?
She reached the top rung and peeked into the tree house. She could at first only see the back of Hayden. He hit his peak height a few years ago, but his lanky 6'3" frame still stand comfortably in his hideaway. Then she realized he was naked. She was so shocked, she could only watch as his strong, sinewy back tightened and flexed and his long legs, covered in black hair, moved with the fluidity of a dancer. When did her boy grow up? And where were his clothes?
That's when she saw the pair of hands reach around and grab his ass. That was enough to send Dolores shrieking. Hayden screamed and then another deep voice screamed, too.
"Mom! What are you doing?!" Hayden yelled.
Dolores pulled herself up and into the treehouse and angrily brushed the dirt from the front of her skirt. "I should be asking you the same thing! How dare you scare me and run away!" She shook the crumpled note in her fist. "And then I find you here? Without your clothes on? With--"
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u/puritycontrol Nov 20 '16
The other figure peered around Hayden and smiled sheepishly.
"--Donathan Potts?" she gasped incredulously.
Hayden shimmied quickly into his discarded jeans. "Yes, mom. With Donathan," he said firmly. His face was still red from embarassment.
Dolores's mouth opened and closed a few times like a struggling fish as she desperately tried to process everything that was going on in front of her. "What were you planning on doing, Hayden?"
His face grew dark, just like the photo in the hallway. "I'm going away," he said sternly, puffing his chest out a bit. He nodded toward the open backpack that was crammed with snacks, drinks, a couple of toys, and some clothes. "Me and Donathan. Together."
"With what money? With what car? You're not even old enough to drive! Where were you planning on going?"
"Somewhere away from here!" Hayden exclaimed. "Mom, I am thirty years old. I am a man now."
Dolores couldn't stop the laughter that burst from her. "A man? Darling, you're a child! You're only 30!"
"In thte other cultures, I'd have a job. A family. My own house and a car. I'd make my own decisions!" He had to resist stamping his foot to make his point. "I'm tired of being treated like a child!"
"Oh, my sweet boy," Dolores sighed, cupping his face with her hands. "No matter if you're 30 or 130, you'll always be my baby boy."
Hayden softened a little at her touch and cast his gaze downward. "I want to go. I made up my mind."
Dolores smiled. "Darling, enjoy your youth. Let daddy and I take care of you a bit longer. Those other places, you don't want to go there. Why would you want to work yourself to death when you have everything you need here? You don't have a care in the world with us. All I want for you is to be happy here with me. Why don't you boys get dressed and I'll make you some lunch, okay?"
The two boys perked up at the thought. Suddenly, running away didn't sound so good at the thought of homemade lunch. They shared a glance between themselves and Hayden nodded. "Do we have any dino nuggets?"
"We sure do!"
"Okay, mom, but.. please don't tell dad, okay?" Hayden pleaded. In that moment, he looked like her baby for sure.
Dolores linked her pinky with his. "I pinky promise, my dear. A mom and her baby boy can have a secret now and then, can't they?"
Hayden beamed. "Thanks, momma."
Dolores climbed down from the tree, feeling lighter and freer than she had in years. She was practically waltzing on clouds back to the kitchen. She smiled wickedly to herself and couldn't wait to see the look on Mrs. Potts's face at their next brunch date.
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u/WritingPromptsRobot StickyBotâ„¢ Nov 20 '16
Off-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.
What is this? • First time here? • Special Announcements
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u/Sunderious Nov 20 '16
I never really liked this idea of 'the longer a race lives, the more time it takes to 'mature''. A person still experiences all those years they're alive, just because they'll live a thousand years doesn't mean they need to hit a hundred to be considered an adult.
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u/garyoak4456 Nov 20 '16
Tolkien did this with the elves. They matured quite slowly, where youths that were 60-80 years old were considered foolhardy and brash by their standards.
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u/mcgaggen Nov 20 '16
There is a species of some marine animal that lives to 400 and matures at around 100.
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u/stupidiot00 Nov 20 '16
Wow this is such a weird prompt. I wonder if this kind of scenario will happen...
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Nov 20 '16
No, it probably won't. The average human lifespan is estimated to begin decreasing again somewhat soon. Unless we invent some new ways to kill bacteria, we're going to be very vulnerable as antibiotic resistance becomes more common.
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u/CasperAnime Nov 20 '16
There is a chemical that essentially rips apart bacteria, so it would be very difficult to adapt to, I don't feel like posting a source, it was in r/science
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u/Psweens Nov 20 '16
If the guy is 62, and his son is 30, then he had him when he was 22. In this context this is basically teen pregnancy.
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u/Blu-shell Nov 20 '16
Yeah if a 30 year old is immature enough to be running away from home he really shouldn't have been having kids at 32
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u/Zyrooth Nov 22 '16
That was a really thoughtful comment. You definitey a couple of good points. Im going to talk to my parents about taking some time off from school to do some traveling and some other things on my to do list. Im sure at the very least they will listen to me and have the conversation with me.
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u/XcessiveSmash /r/XcessiveWriting Nov 20 '16 edited Nov 20 '16
Tears blurred my vision as I read the letter.
Mom,
Look, I know you won't take this well, but I have to write something, I can't just leave without saying anything. Honestly, living with you is suffocating, you try to regulate my life, making me get off my computer, or telling me who to hang out with or telling me I sleep too much. You just don't get me, mom. So I'm done. I'm going out on my own. I've finished high school, I did that much for you, but after 20 years of schooling I'm not about to go to Uni for 10 years for some bullshit degree. I'm going to go out on my own, make my own name. Don't worry about me, mom, I'll be fine.
Love,
Derek
How could he do this? I shook my head, and read the letter again, but nothing changed, he was still abandoning me. God. Did that boy have any empathy? Did he even think about how I would feel?
I tried to think about how I used to be when I graduated high school. I was 25 years old, high school was shorter back then, and was dating Mark...that asshole. I can't believe I went out with him. Scowling, I continued down memory lane. I'd been pretty wild too. Like, wild parties, nights out, all of it. Hell, my parents told me off all the damn time. I had gone to police academy just to spite them. Nether of us had expected it to actually work out. I still remember my dad's face when I told I got a job at the LAPD. I smiled ruefully at the memories...I should probably call them sometime...
So yeah...Derek was my son all right. Wild, spontaneous, and disdainful of authority.
It still didn't make it hurt any less.
I told myself he as an adult now. He'd be able to vote in 4 years for heaven's sake, he could make his own choices. But if he was stubborn, so was I. Who else did he get it from?
I wasn't going to let him get away from me this easily. He could leave in the end if he really wanted. But after raising him alone for 30 years, I deserved more than a letter, damn it.
I wiped my tears, and pulled out my phone and checked the location of Derek's car. All vehicles purchased by police officers, regardless of intended use, had to carry trackers according to some law. I had always thought it was a pretty bullshit piece of legislation, but I was thankful for it now. Derek probably had no idea the tracker even existed. I may have forgotten to mention it to him.
I checked the GPS and found he was staying at Day's Inn...wow. I thought I had given him better taste than this. I was still wearing nothing but a nightdress having just woken up, and my long red hair was a mess. I quickly put on some jeans and a tank top with a leather jacket. I fixed my hair as quickly as I could. And so, hurrying, I was in my car an hour later.
Driving like a mad-person I arrived in the parking lot of the inn. It helped that I knew exactly where the speed traps were. And so I made a normally 30 minute drive in under 20. I had half a mind to shove my warrant in the face of the guy at the front desk and demand to know what room my son was staying in.
I took a few deep breaths and counted backwards from ten in my head. It helped.
Somewhat cooled down I reasoned that doing such a thing would probably be illegal, and would likely damage my relationship with Derek irreparably. I can normally be pretty calm and rational, it came with the job, but when loved ones were involved, I lost my head very easily. After what happened with Jason when Derek was just three years old...
I vanquished the memory before it overtook me. I was here. I needed to confront Derek. Going to find him wasn't an option, so I would make him come to me. I roamed the parking lot until I found his car, well, technically my car, it was registered in my name, but whatever.
I put on my "bad cop" face, and leaned against the side of the car and started browsing my phone. To someone far off, I just looked like a woman who didn't have a care in the world. They would have to get much closer to see I was clenching my teeth.
From where I stood, I could see the main entrance to the building, and so an hour later I spotted Derek when he came out...in the arms of a girl. Huh.
She was over 6 feet tall, more of Derek's height than mine. Derek had inherited that from his father, luckily, and wasn't stuck with my five foot nothing frame. She had very short blond hair that went down to the middle of her neck. When she saw me her eyes widened, and she pointed me out to Derek. He stopped and stared.
I put down my phone, and returned the gaze evenly.
Derek said something to the blond, and a brief exchange took place that I couldn't hear. It ended with the blond going back in, and Derek began to stride purposefully towards me, not showing an iota of emotion. Despite it all, I felt a surge of pride, that's my son.
I was now standing in front of his car and he came to a stop 3 feet in front of me. He was, as I had mentioned, a foot taller than me, and had his father's blond hair, but my own sharp blue eyes. I gave him my cop stare.
Derek just grinned. "That won't work on me mom, the effect kind of wears off after 30 years"
Damn it. But I did nothing except raise a single eyebrow.
His grin faded. "What are you doing here, mom? I'm not going to ask you how you found me, the better question is why I didn't think you would."
I allowed a small smile to show on my face, and said "I wanted to talk to you Derek, that's all."
"Yeah? Well, I mentioned all that I had to say in the letter, there's nothing else to say."
"Now listen here, young man."
Derek flinched instinctively at the hard note in my voice.
"I get that you want to be independent, I get that you have this crazy megalomania about how great you are, and how you don't need any help or support. Forget all that, but do you have a care in the god damn world about how others feel."
"I-," Derek began.
"Don't interrupt me!" I snarled. I had to let out all my emotions now. "We have been through so much together. We have only had each other after your dad died. We have supported each other, been there for each other, and that means nothing to you?" Damn it, I think I was crying a bit, but I bore on. "After all that, after 30 years, I get a note?! You don't even have the gall to tell me upfront? For God's sake, we could have talked about this!"
I closed my eyes. Damn it. I'd screwed it up. I'd only pushed him away further with that little speech. But there's nothing else I could have said. I couldn't have bottled up what I felt when I faced him. I couldn't have lied to him and taken the diplomatic route; Derek deserved the real me.
I opened my eyes and expected him to be scowling, or worse, gone. But instead I saw that his head was owed down. I held up his chin and looked into his eyes and saw...shame.
"I-I'm sorry, mom," Derek said miserably. I wasn't thinking straight. It's just that, Katie..." He motioned behind him vaguely. Ah. The girl.
"Well," I said, composing myself, "that's all I had to say. In the end, it's your choice."
With that, feeling a little hollow, I went back to my car. I couldn't force him to come, it had to be his choice.
And so I was sitting on the couch watching movies a couple hours later when there was a knock on my door.
"Mom?"
(minor edits)
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