29 - Dean
It feels like only a minute or two since Sam left when a knock comes on the door. I glance around the apartment as I walk towards the front door, wondering if she forgot something. I don’t see anything of hers and I grab the door handle with a grin across my face. I open the door, ready to see Sam’s smiling face.
“Mom!” I exclaim. “What are you doing here?”
“Good to see you too, Dean,” she says sarcastically, her eyes travelling down to my underwear. “Is that a way to greet your own mother?”
“What are you doing here?” I ask again. My whole body is tense as we stare at each other across the doorway.
“You’re not going to invite me in?” she replies. I pause for a moment before stepping aside. My mother walks into my apartment. I close the door and walk over to my discarded pants and pull them on, shimmying from side to side as I pull them up with one hand.
“Your father told me what happened yesterday,” she says as she sits on the edge of a chair, crossing her legs and folding her hands on top of her knee. Everything about her is perfectly manicured, with not a single hair out of place. All her movements are deliberate and she looks around the room with a hint of disgust on her face.
I grunt in response and grab the empty beer bottles from the coffee table to throw them out.
“Won’t you be reasonable, Dean? Your father is willing to take you back in at work if you just listen to what he has to say.”
“Reasonable?!” I exclaim as I drop the bottles in the garbage. “You want me to be reasonable?! I would say it’s reasonable to break up with someone who cheated on you. Wouldn’t you?”
My mother waves a hand dismissively and huffs. “You talk as if marriage is about love, Dean. This is so much bigger than that. We’ve had this planned since you were a child.”
“Did you ever consider what I might want? Maybe I don’t want to go into politics, maybe I do want to marry for love. What about that? Maybe I don’t want a wife who sleeps with other men in our own bed.”
“She made a mistake, Dean,” my mother says. “She shouldn’t have brought someone else back to your place.”
“But if she’d done it somewhere else it would be ok?” I spit back. “What if it had been me? What if it had been me who had cheated? How would her family react? Would the deal still be on?”
“You’d never do that, son, I know you wouldn’t.”
“That’s not the point, mom. The point is that if it had been me, they would be outraged and the deal would be off. There’s probably some morality clause that excuses us from the deal in this situation, isn't there? But you won’t use it because you’re so fucking power hungry that you’d ignore what I actually want.”
My mother’s eyes narrow and her voice is low when she speaks.
“You’re forgetting that ‘what you want’ is only possible because of what your father and I sacrificed. Have some respect,” she spits the last word at me and then pats the sides of her head, smoothing her perfect hair back. “Dean,” she starts again, a bit more softly, “This is bigger than you. There are arrangements that can be made for marriages like this to work. Your father and I…”
“I don’t want to hear about your fucked up marriage, mother. Have you ever considered that I don’t want what you have? Maybe it isn’t worth it to me!”
My mother laughs. She sweeps her arm across the room and raises an eyebrow. “All this isn’t worth it? That nice black Bentley isn’t worth it? Those credit cards aren’t worth it? Let me teach you something, Dean,” she snarls as she gets up off the seat. She takes a step towards me and pokes her long fingernail into my chest. “You’ll see how worth it it is. You’re cut off.”
I open my mouth and close it again, frowning. “Cut off? What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s time to chop these apron strings, my dear son,” she says with a cruel smile. “No more trust fund. No more mommy and daddy. No more credit cards from our line of credit. Nothing. If you won’t be part of the family business and the family dynasty, then you are on your own. I’m giving you three months, Dean. After three months you’ll be ready to come back to the family.”
She pulls her hand back and turns on her heels, heading for the front door. I watch her walk away and watch the door swing shut. It’s not until I hear the elevator ding down the hall that I’m pulled out of my stupor. I shuffle to the front door in a daze and slide the lock closed before turning around in my apartment.
Cut off.
I’ve always felt independent, but she’s right. Everything is from the business accounts. The car, the apartments, the credit cards… none of it is mine. I have some savings, sure, but that won’t keep me going long. I put a hand to my head and let out a breath. I haven’t even realised how dependent I am on my parents until right now.
I’m being cut off.
Once the shock starts to wear off, anger starts curling around my stomach. My own mother is sucking me dry, cutting me off just because I won’t play along with their little power play! My parents don’t respect me as a person, or care how I feel - they only want their own fucking master plan to come to fruition.
“Fuck!” I yell, slamming my hand down on the counter. My heart is thumping in my chest and I take a few deep breaths, trying to figure out what I’ll do. I walk back and forth a few times and finally head out to the balcony. The cold night air fills my lungs and I take a deep breath, letting it cool my anger ever so slightly. I’m still shirtless, and within a few seconds, goosebumps start forming on my skin. I shiver, but I don’t go inside. The chill feels good and it helps to clear my head.
They may be cutting me off but that doesn’t mean I’m destitute. I have money, I have skills, I have contacts. I can find work for another firm and actually be independent for once. I can be my own man and not rely on my parent’s money to support me.
As much as I’m hurt by my parent’s indifference, and as scared as I am about being on my own, there’s a sense of excitement that starts budding in the pit of my stomach. It’s about time I was my own man. Maybe my mother was right - it’s time to cut the apron strings.