P-Nut

Wearing a two-button blazer, a navy skirt, and navy heels, my mother looked like she could be headed to a business meeting. She hadn’t worked a day in her life, and even if she had, she was well into the age of retirement. She was dressed no differently than she’d dressed her entire life, and neither her age nor her deteriorating mental state prevented her from continuing that tradition.

She sat in her recliner with her eyes glued to the most recent episode of Lauren Lake’s Paternity Court. It was one of the many shows she insisted upon watching daily, and her doing so seemed to keep her mind occupied.

I carried the tomato soup and grilled cheese into the living room and set it on the tray beside her. “Time for lunch.”

“It seems like I just had breakfast.”

“You eat lunch with Lauren,” I said.

“I know that,” she snapped. “It seems like I just had breakfast. This day has just flown by.”

It saddened me to see her in her current state. In so many ways she was still the mother that raised me, and in others, she was slowly becoming less and less like her former self.

She glanced at the tray and then at the television. “Tomato?”

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese.”

With her eyes fixed on the show, she swiveled the tray over her lap. “My favorite.”

During the week, she ate the same thing every day for lunch. Each day, she acted like it was a huge surprise. On the weekends, a woman stopped in to help out. Oddly enough, on those days, she was openminded enough to eat anything she was given.

“That’s why I made it, ma. I know how much you like it.”

“I haven’t seen your brothers for days,” she said. “I wonder what they’ve gotten themselves into?”

My three brothers lived a few thousand miles away, and hadn’t seen her in years. Too busy was the standard response, but I don’t care anymore seemed to be closer to the truth.

I was born when my mother was 42, and although I wasn’t a mistake, the pregnancy that preceded her menopause wasn’t planned, either. I often wondered if it was the difference in age that kept me close to home, or if it was the fact that I simply cared more than they did about the welfare of my family.

In my eyes, nothing was more sacred than family. Be it my birth family or my MC brethren, my heart – and my life – was devoted to their safety and wellbeing. Most of them, anyway.

As I wandered around the room, moving things back to where they belonged, I let out a sigh. “Hard saying.”

She dipped the corner of the sandwich into the soup, held it in place, and stared at the television. Lauren asked the bailiff to produce the DNA tests for the two parties. As the bailiff turned away to retrieve the files, the show broke to a commercial.

She lifted the sandwich and bit off the corner. “I think he’s the father.”

I switched the couch cushions to their correct places, and then sat on the loveseat across from her. “We’ll find out in a minute.”

“He’s got those eyes.” She wagged the index finger of her free hand toward the television. “Lying eyes.”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” I said. “I’ll trust your opinion.”

She turned her focus to her lunch. “Your father didn’t make it home last night. I thought his shift ended yesterday?”

My father, a former pilot for American Airlines, had been dead for ten years. Some days it seemed she realized he was gone, and on others, she clearly didn’t.

I gazed at the photo of him that sat on the mantle. “I’m not sure when his shift ends.”

She took another bite of the sandwich. “Maybe it’s tonight.”

The television switched from a commercial to the show. The judge studied the DNA evidence, lowered the folder, and peered over the top of it.

“In the case of James versus Walters, the test by DNA Systems supports that you, Mister Walters, are the baby’s father.”

“I knew it,” my mother said. “The eyes don’t lie.”

“They sure don’t,” I said.

She poked the remaining piece of the sandwich half into her mouth, chewed it, and wiped the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “When will you have time to clean the birds out of the yard?”

My eyes moved to the window. “I’ll get them when I leave.”

When I arrived, she insisted that there were dead blackbirds in her yard, but the lawn, as always, was spotless. The meticulous landscape was a tradition that began as a result of my father’s hard work, and was undoubtedly one of his life’s pleasures. I maintained the shrubbery, trees, and the lawn no differently than he had, primarily because I knew he’d appreciate it.

She looked up from her bowl of soup. “When are you going to give love another try?”

I flipped through the magazines that were sitting on the end table. “Leave it alone, ma.”

She lowered her spoon and gave me a look. “You’re still riding that thing, and you’re not married. When a man becomes an adult, he finds a job and a woman, and then he gets married. It’s been that way since the beginning of time. You’re out of school and you’ve got a job. What’s the next step?”

“Just like I said. Leave it alone, ma.”

She set the spoon beside her bowl, crossed her arms, and let out a sigh. “I will not.”

“I haven’t found anyone.”

“Are you looking?”

If fucking women qualified as looking, I would be on a full-fledged mission. But, it didn’t, and I wasn’t.

I was the MC’s stray sheepdog, the silent protector who constantly kept the wolves away from the flock of sheep. I didn’t trust many men, and the only woman I trusted was sitting across from me. The thought of having a woman in my life on a permanent basis made my skin crawl.

With her arms still crossed and her eyes fixed on me, she cleared her throat. “Percy. I asked you a question.”

I looked up. “I’m nosing around.”

“Nosing around?”

“Uh huh.”

“You need to go to church. The nice girls are in church,” she said. “If you’re nosing around, I’m sure it isn’t in the right places.”

My single status wasn’t a result of where I looked, because I was always on the prowl. The reason I wasn’t in a relationship was because I chose not to be. The decision was a conscious one, and one that I was sure was necessary for me to continue living the life I chose to live.

A life where I could silently lurk in the shadows, provide assistance as I felt was necessary, and measure my means of success by the lack of problems that existed in my life.

All concerns in my life were nipped in the bud, and never lasted much longer than it took me to identify them. Adding a woman to the mix would undoubtedly guarantee problems would linger like a dark cloud over my very existence.

If I thought for one minute that a woman existed who would put up with my way of living, never complain about my involvement with the club, satisfy my sexual desires, and be trustworthy, I’d be a fool not to accept her into my life.

But. No such woman existed, and I was sure of it.

“I’ll have a look next time I go to church,” I said.

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t been to church in twelve years, and had no plans on attending service anytime soon. If I did, I’d peruse the congregation for a mate, and provide my mother with the outcome.

I stood. “I better get to work.”

“Still working at the pier?”

“Yeah, ma. Still at the pier.”

I hadn’t worked at the pier since I was eighteen. I bought and sold collectible baseball cards for a living.

Confused about some things, and still sharply recalling others, there seemed to be no clear rule as to what caused the mix-ups. Not knowing where her mind might take her saddened me.

She turned toward the window, gazed out into the yard, and then looked at me. “Don’t forget to pick up those dead birds.”

“I’ll get ‘em on the way out, ma.”

She lifted her chin. “Give your mother a kiss.”

“I love you, ma.” I kissed her cheek. “Eat the other half of your sandwich before the cheese gets hard.”

“I’m going to tear it up and put it in my soup.”

“Sounds good.” I straightened my posture and looked her over. “I’ll stop back in tonight.”

She waved a dismissive hand toward me. “You don’t have to drive all the way up here from Oceanside. If you want to, I won’t argue, though.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“When you see your brothers, remind them what a trouble it was for me to give birth to them. Maybe you’ll guilt them into coming to see me.”

“I’ll let them know,” I said.

I turned toward the door. I knew regardless of what I said to them, they probably wouldn’t return unless it was for her funeral.

And my hope was that day was a long, long way down life’s road.