Oedipal Opus Re-cycled … (another short story)

(Dear Canadada Readers: I’ve done (another!) edit, and seek constructive criticism … wadja think? … THANKS! Here goes … )

When Gaby and Rick started their affair nearly seven months ago, Gaby’s teenage son, Kyle, knew it meant more uncertain family upheaval, but conversely, more lucre and loot for him. Rick was another of his mother’s ‘foot loose ‘n fancy free men’. Ed, Kyle’s current stepfather, had only just moved out of Gaby’s ranch style home in Freelton with that tell-tale love-lorn whimper. He had finally given up. Kyle’s mother had been reasoning of late that it would just be best for all parties if Rick, her latest on-and off-again loosely-married paramour, moved in soon. It was understood that his Oakville-based wife was an insufferable b*tch. It was also certain that his wife would win custody of his two early teen children. (Rick was, after all, having the affair with Gaby.) Kyle knew that when Rick moved in, it would initially be problematic. Each and every one of his mother’s lovers was problematic. There were always new patterns, new behaviours and new rules.

Ever since his own father, Ken, had left in a blind rage nine years ago, his mother had rationalized the volcanic-like exit with dismissive superiority, saying, he just wasn’t good enough for them. She had clung to Kyle over that intervening time, never letting him out of her sight. Kyle learned to live with her deep-seated emotional insecurity, though he never would have known to call it that. She needed him, and he was always there. At school, when she came to pick him up, he had said to his cool bum-slung pant friends, with equally dismissive superiority, “She doesn’t like driving. I have to drive her home.” Which was more or less true. He had been driving since he was eight, picking up his father from some dingy after-hour hole-in-the-wall, or picking up his mother when her vehicle had broken down or run out of gas on some lonely stretch of highway after yet another heated argument. He had learned to shoulder the responsibilities of his infantile parents with surprising grace. That’s why it was such a surprise when he announced to Gaby and the newly ensconced Rick that he was moving out.

His mother wanted to know why, what had she done? and even Rick, the current flame, asked if Kyle was in some kind of trouble? Kyle tried to explain everything was fine, that it was just time to move out. Gaby immediately thought that Rick had said something to upset the boy. And Rick, in turn, suddenly got a very clear picture of why her two (or was it three?) husbands had already left her. She obsessed unnaturally over her only child, her son.

Gaby demanded to know where Kyle was going to get the money to move out. He quietly explained that his step-father, Ed, had lent him several thousand dollars to get him on his way. This produced an unholy screaming match on the phone between Ed and Gaby. She said Kyle was not his son, he had no right to interfere, and he was stupidly putting her boy into debt. Ed quietly told her that Kyle had asked for the loan, and that the boy would pay it back soon enough with interest after he got a job. She wouldn’t hear of it. Not her Kyle. He would never want to leave home, leave her. Ed only said, ‘It’s time Gaby’. She hung up on him. When next she met up with Ken, Kyle’s biological father, to get his past-due child-support payments, she accused him of putting the boy up to it. Ken listened to her rant for about ten minutes, handed her the cheque, and said, ‘Gaby, it’s time for the kid to get out.’ She would not hear of it, not her little pumpkin. She stormed off in a huff.

She began a devious set of manoeuvres to keep her baby boy at home.

She began by buying him things. He received a brand-new triple XP edition PlayStation that was soon hooked up to his already complete in-house quadraphonic DVD stereo system, in his bedroom. She paid his overdue cell phone bill and bought him a new Star Trek faceplate. Every night, for several weeks, when she returned home from work she would have a new article of designer grunge clothing for him that she’d picked up at the mall. She even bought him a pudgy hamster and named it ‘Harley’ after the cocker spaniel that Ed had taken when he had moved out. She made up large batches of his favourite frozen meals for him to defrost and cook when he arrived home. She suggested that if he wanted to he could convert the large unfurnished room in the basement into a ‘bachelor’s pad’. Kyle had willingly accepted all these obvious overtures with a certain neutral calm; his mind was made up, he was moving out.

It wasn’t that he had anything against his mother. She had done the best she could over the years given their often rocky and unpredictable circumstances. He also knew that he was not exactly a wanted ‘love’ child, but rather, a badly timed ‘mistake’. Ken and Gaby had married far too young and she had had Kyle when she was only 18. Kyle’s age now. Ken had not been ready for a ‘family’. He had wanted to get established, have something saved up. So, Kyle had become a bone of contention between them since day one. When Ed, her second husband, moved in, Kyle could see that he was kind and tolerant of his mother’s clinging possessiveness about him. He quickly turned this to his advantage whenever he wanted something. All he had to do was tattle-tale to his mother about some real or fabricated incident and Ed would suffer for weeks, until Ed, or his mother, got him what he wanted. After years of that kind of abuse, let alone Gaby’s ever hungry eye, Ed had finally wised up and moved out, taking his motorcycle, metal working tools and the dog with him. Gaby immediately bought Kyle a shiny new red toolbox, filled it with every conceivable tool imaginable, spending over $2000 at Canadian Tire. He was, as a result, a somewhat spoilt child. But, regardless, he was growing up.

When she saw that he wasn’t going to budge about the move she tried a different tactic, one that had worked surprisingly well on her former in-laws whenever her husbands were acting up. She got sick. Something major would blow out. This time she used her back. For two weeks she lay propped up against blankets and cushions in front of the t.v. screen in the livingroom, demanding, through moans and groans, that Kyle stay home from high school to help look after her. He did. He cooked, cleaned, watered the houseplants, vacuumed and dusted. He played house with her for an intense two week period of time. Then he rented her a walking cane from the pharmacist. He insisted that she had to get mobile or the condition would get chronic. The gig was up. Rick, meanwhile, hovered about, tinkering with the car, mending the storm windows and otherwise keeping himself occupied during this pathetic charade. He knew that this mother-son scenario had to play itself out. He would prefer, after all, that Kyle be gone so that he could live there unfettered as the new king of the castle. He quietly rooted for the kid, even loaning him his laptop when he asked for it. He never mentioned that it always took him several hours to straighten out the buggered-up programs after Kyle returned it. He already knew that the unwritten law of being with Gaby was, never, ever, criticize the kid.

Kyle announced that his move out date was September 1st. Gaby was beside herself. Both Rick and he tip-toed around the house waiting for the next explosive outburst. She invited over her best female friend, Joyce, for dinner, insisting she bring her attractive nubile daughter as bait. She placed Kyle beside the budding princess, insisting he carve the chicken and serve her. He did what he was told, but announced even then, that he was moving out soon. The teenage girl’s eyes brightened. As soon as they left, Gaby went into another of her rages, claiming that everyone knew that little b*tch was a little wh*re just like her mother. Subdued, Rick washed the dishes and Kyle dried.

By mid-August he had found an apartment in Guelph near the university. He was going to work in the on-campus automotive department repairing campus vehicles. It was a good entry level job, promised to pay well and included a comprehensive benefits package, for life. When his mother went off to work he began packing up his gear into boxes. He put the boxes behind the hot water heater in the basement. His plan was to make one big move, to be out clean and clear, instead of moving out piecemeal over several weekends. In the meantime, he left his bedroom characteristically dishevelled in order to make the break from his mother as painless as possible. Late at night, when all were asleep in bed, he would furtively edit through his CD/DVD and comic book collection. What to take and what to leave behind.

On the morning of Saturday August 30th, while Rick and Gaby were still in the shower after make-up sex, Kyle loaded up his friend’s van with his boxes. When his mother finally came downstairs rosy-cheeked and flush, Kyle told her he was leaving in ten minutes. Gaby stood dumbfounded, at wits end, while Rick made another pot of coffee. As Kyle put on his windbreaker and baseball cap, his mother came to him and said, “You know you always have a home here Kyle. Always.” He leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek, “I know, Mum. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ll call when I’m settled.”

Fifty years later, Kyle still remembered that morning drive up to Guelph as one of the best drives of his life. He had never felt so free.

When his assorted wives and adopted step-children wanted to know about his early years, he always told them that he was raised single-handedly by his mother. And she, proud old rickety grandmother of many, would always add, “Kyle was the very best son.”