Her son's words had sliced through the air, over the phone and into her ear. He was calling from the Planned Parenthood in the next town ever, giving his mother the news. Her mind swirled back to the days when he was just a baby, bringing him home from the hospital. "Mother?" he said, she could hear the smile on his voice. "Did you hear me? Brooklyn is pregnant!"

Norma Bates handed her son a bundle of white cloth with little blue sheep on it, a pattern for a baby; when the baby first came home, filling the Bates's residence with that sweet new baby smell. Dylan took the baby in his arms and looked up at his mother. Norma smiled down at him as he yawned; he was not bored with the baby, he was just tired. "Are you going to take a nap with the baby?" she asked.

"It seems like yesterday, that I brought you home from the hospital. You were the sweetest baby I had ever seen," she replied. She was glad Norman was excited but having a baby in high school was not exactly an easy life path.

"It's a baby! See! See the baby mommy?" said Dylan. Norma chuckled and nodded that she did indeed see the baby.

"Brooklyn wants to keep the baby," said Norman. Of course she does. "She said I don't have to pay a penny but it's my child and I want to be a part of his or her life."

"Can you say Norman?" she asked her son. Her son's name: Norman Bates. "Nor Maaaan."

"It seems too soon, Norman, you haven't even graduated high school. I'm not mad, I know you'll go to school and work at the motel but you're still a baby yourself."

"I'm eighteen mother, an adult."

"Mommy, where's his feet?" asked Dylan. The baby was wrapped, swaddled, leaving only his face uncovered. Norma dug out Norman's feet from the blanket. "He's tiny."

The memories made Norma smile even though her youngest son was facing fatherhood in high school. "I know. It won't be easy," said Norman over the phone. "I mean, we're kinda hung up on who gets to see the baby and when, specially since she has to move to Washington."

Norman squeaked and fussed in Dylan's arms; it was not cold in the bedroom but to a baby, it was freezing. "Oh," cooed the new mother. "Poor Norman."

"Washington?" said Norma. "She's pregnant with your child. Why is she moving? You have to go to school and get an education. You have a job here. You can scrape by with a baby here."

"Her parents kicked her out," said Norman. "She has no choice. Her parents have Emma's medical bills and those can't be put off for a baby. Emma can't have stress and a baby and seeing their oldest child pregnant would make the house a stress factory."

"Norman, this is my grandchild, I want my grandchild close to me and I think Brooklyn would like to still be able to see her family," said Norma, she sat down on the kitchen chair, the phone cord stretched taunt from wall to chair. "We have an extra room which she can use and then turn into a nursery."

"Where would she stay when the room becomes the nursery?" asked Norman, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. If the answer would be on the streets, Norman would have to hang up on mother and talk to Brooklyn.

"Your room, but if she becomes pregnant again, you will both be out," said Norma. Good rule to lay down to your apparently sexually active teenage boy, but she knew herself better than that. "No, I wouldn't, but I'd be very disappointed. I expect Brooklyn to work the motel with you and Emma until her sixth month; hers and yours paychecks will go to buy baby supplies. Emma's paychecks will go to whatever she wants."

The smile was back in Norman's voice. "Thanks, mother," said her son. "That's not all the news I…uh…we have either."

"Oh?"

"We'll tell you in person," Norman said. His voice was not smiling; it was beaming, ear-to-ear. Norman was excited, something he had not been since moving here. "I'll tell her what you said and I'll cook us a nice meal so you two can get to know each other. You'll like her, Mother."

Norman hung up the phone and sighed, before turning to face Brooklyn who sat on a bench, a parka over her to hide the slight bump. He sat down next to her and grabbed her hands; he kissed her slender, cream colored hands. "We don't have to runaway, Mrs. Bates," said Norman, kissing her cheek. The plan was Washington. He'd runaway and sure, he was leaving behind his mother and the motel, but he had a wife and a baby on the way. "My mother said you could move in with us, if you don't mind working the motel."