Author's Notes: I'm not sure if I really quite got this.
Chapter 9
Maeve glanced at Otis sitting beside her at the balcony table and noticed his discomfort. She leant over and whispered in his ear, "Cheer up, muppet. Don't you trust me?"
Otis glanced sideways at her and mock-pouted. "No."
"Awww," Maeve mock-pouted in return then turned back to her plate and took her first bite of the veggie and tofu stir-fry and nodded in appreciation.
From across the table, Jean glanced between them and tried keeping her face neutral as she began to eat.
"This is really good, Jean," Maeve said. "I hope it wasn't too much hassle. Last minute invite."
"Oh, it was no trouble, Maeve," Jean said. "When Otis told me you were coming, I just added a little extra to the mix."
"It's very delicious," Maeve said.
"It's excellent, mum," Otis said.
They all ate in silence for a few moments then Maeve said, "Otis has told me you've written some books, Jean."
Jean nodded. "Yes. One by myself, one with my husband. Ex-husband."
"I'd love to read them," Maeve said.
"Maeve reads a lot, mum," said Otis and Maeve glanced at him.
"I have copies I recommend to my patients if I feel they could help," Jean said. "I'll get them later. Remind me."
"Are you writing anything at the moment?" Maeve asked.
Jean pressed her lips together and hoped Otis did not realise she was deliberately not looking at him. "I was writing something but on reflection it seems I may not have known what I was talking about. I'll have to start again."
"You can use the thesaurus I bought you, mum," Otis said teasingly and Maeve noticed he seemed a little less subdued.
Jean smiled softly and shook her head then looked at Maeve. "Otis seems to think I have a limited vocabulary."
Maeve shrugged. "Just because you have a lot of tools in your arsenal doesn't mean anything. It's important to know exactly when to deploy them."
"Exactly. It's a lesson Otis' father could learn." Jean looked at her son. "Have you read his latest essay in the STARR newsletter? Dreadful."
"Maeve's a really good writer, mum," Otis said keenly. "You should read the essay she wrote about dreams. Okay, admittedly, it's full of existential angst, but it's so well-written."
"I just dreamt a dream and then imagined it shattering," Maeve said and glanced at Otis who didn't notice though his mother certainly did.
"Do you plan on being a writer, Maeve?" Jean asked.
"Not sure," said Maeve. "Haven't really decided. I've thought about becoming a teacher. Maybe University lecturer."
"What would you lecture on?" Jean asked.
Maeve opened her mouth to speak but Otis spoke first. "Feminist literature."
Maeve smiled and nodded appreciatively. "Muppet gets me."
"I think you'd be really good at it, Maeve," Otis said softly then turned to his mother who noticed he was more engaged in the moment than he was when they first sat down. "Maeve is easily the smartest person I know."
"You're pretty smart yourself, Otis," Maeve said.
Otis shook his head. "Not as smart as you. What was it you said Miss Sands told you?"
"Lots of people have acquired knowledge," said Maeve, almost sounding embarrassed. "Not many people have ideas."
"That's it," said Otis. "You're an original thinker."
"May I read your essay, Maeve?" asked Jean. "If you wouldn't mind."
"I'll see if I can print a copy, mum," Otis said then turned to Maeve. "That's okay, isn't it? I typed it up from the newspaper."
Maeve nodded then smiled at him and said softly, "You're a pretty good writer yourself, Otis."
Jean was intrigued. "You've written something, Otis? May I read it?"
"Um…" said Otis, wondering what the hell Maeve was doing.
"It's kinda personal," said Maeve, apologetically, realising too late how feeling safe can have its downside.
Jean gave an 'ah' of recognition and looked at Otis, smiling. "A love letter."
"No," said Otis, embarrassed.
"Yes," said Maeve, also slightly embarrassed.
Jean took a sip of her wine and noticed Maeve's free hand drop below the table then Otis' free hand join it a moment later.
"So have you known each other long?" Jean asked, trying to conceal a smile.
Maeve sensed Otis was going to protest and squeezed his hand gently.
"Just this year, really," Otis said, subdued.
"I'd seen Otis around in previous years, but never had any dealings with him. I suppose it was the same with you," Maeve said, turning to her boyfriend.
"Um, yeah," said Otis, not looking at her.
Oh! thought Maeve. It wasn't the same for you.
"So what changed this year?" Jean asked, her idle tone concealing her intense curiosity.
"I kind of bumped into him first day back," Maeve began, turning to look at Jean, "and he helped me pick up my stuff and he actually really looked cute all bumbling and stumbling over his words."
"That's not what you said at the time," muttered Otis as a blush spread across his face.
Maeve glanced at him with a puzzled frown then turned back to Jean. "Anyway, I told him he was going to be late for class and that was it, he was gone. He sat next to me later and we started knowing each other from there."
Otis took a deep breath and his eyes took on a gleam of mischief. "As I remember it, Maeve, you called me a moron, told me to get my hands off your shit and then forcefully instructed me to depart the area forthwith."
"Snowflake!" laughed Maeve, incredulously.
Otis gave Maeve as bland a look as he was capable of. "And when I had to sit next to you because it was the only seat left, you reacted as if I was carrying ebola."
Maeve laughed again and shook her head. "That's not how you said you remembered it earlier."
"I lied," Otis said, deadpan.
Maeve shook her head, smiling. "Come on, Otis, I'm trying to get a nice sweet rom-com meet-cute for your mum and you're spoiling it."
Otis said, "You said you hate rom-coms," and butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.
"I said I hate Big Romantic Gestures," Maeve corrected him.
Otis shrugged, mock-indifferently.
"And I obviously lied about that," Maeve continued. "In case you've forgotten."
"Well, Jackson's was pretty cool," Otis admitted.
"I wasn't thinking Jackson," Maeve said quietly, glancing softly at Otis as a small smile flickered across his lips and no-one else existed in their world.
Jean watched their eyes caress each other for a few moments before she spoke.
"So you must have been the girl from the party, Maeve," Jean said.
"Mum," Otis hissed in startlement.
"Oh, no, muppet. I need to hear this," said Maeve with a grin, holding out a hand to shush him.
Jean's eyes flickered between the two and a soft smile rose to her lips. "There was a party earlier this year. Otis never goes to parties. He wore aftershave and he rarely wears aftershave. It was obvious there was a special someone waiting for him."
"You wore that aftershave just for me, Otis?" asked Maeve, surprised.
"It was a party," Otis shrugged.
"I remember you smelling really nice," Maeve said, softly, forgetting again that Jean was sitting just across from them.
"And he wore a hat," said Jean, savouring these moments and wondering why Otis would keep this side of himself away from her.
"You looked good in the hat. What happened to the hat?" Maeve said.
"I think I left it in the bathroom," said Otis, guiltily. "It was Eric's."
"I'll ask Aimee about it next time I see her," Maeve promised.
"Otis is so secretive these days," Jean said and Maeve could detect a trace of wistful sadness in her tone.
Neither of them noticed the troubled look flash through Otis' eyes before he managed to cover it.
"I thought nothing had come of it," Jean continued. "And yet here you've obviously been dating for a while."
"Oh," said Maeve quickly, shaking her head. "No. We only got together this morning."
"This morning?" said Jean, surprised.
Otis looked at his mother and spoke with a tone of affront. "Mum, I went to the dance with Ola. Do you think I'd two-time someone?"
"I wasn't assuming exclusivity," Jean said, slightly defensively.
"Mum," Otis protested.
Maeve paused a moment, glanced at Otis then looked at Jean with mischief in her eyes. "He did say I was his bit on the side."
"Maeve," Otis protested.
"I said you'd pay for it," said Maeve as she gently rubbed Otis' shoulder, not looking to see his response.
Jean took another sip of wine and it wasn't until she put her wine glass down that she realised.
"So that means this is your first date?" she said, surprised.
Maeve looked fondly at Otis. "Taking me to see his mum on the first date. It's very Otis."
"You said you like me as I am," Otis said, defensively.
"I didn't say it was bad, Otis," said Maeve, softly.
"I think it was five months before your grandparents met your father," Jean began. "And it was seven months before I met his parents. I was so young and so nervous about doing or saying the wrong thing and then I spilt a whole glass of red wine on a white rug and swore like a marine. I was mortified but his mother thanked me because his father couldn't stop her buying a new one. She had hated it."
"Pop can be a bit of a cheapskate," Otis murmured, nodding.
"Any embarrassing stories on your end, Maeve?" Jean asked.
"I don't really do the meet-the-parents thing much," Maeve shrugged. "Last boyfriend, I was so uncomfortable I told them I was going to the lav and just scarpered. I had to go back later for my shoes. Very embarrassing and I don't do embarrassment."
Otis lifted his head and looked at her and smirked. "Oh, so you do have a Cinderella complex," he said.
"It was both shoes," Maeve said with mock exasperation. "Not just one. And they weren't glass."
"Double Cinderella complex. You have it bad, Maeve."
Maeve smiled and mock sighed. "Yes, I've just been waiting for my Prince Charming to come along and rescue me from my life of drudgery and isolation. What took you so long, muppet?"
"I was attacked by a troop of kangaroos."
"Silly kangaroos," Maeve murmured.
"And those lions can be mean."
"I haven't been mean for a long time," Maeve said with mock indignation.
"An hour ago?"
Maeve shrugged dismissively. "Ancient history."
Otis and Maeve finally realized his mother was looking at them, puzzled but smiling.
"Maeve is a very kind person, mum. It's just a joke," said Otis, trying to conceal his embarrassment.
Maeve took a breath and scrunched her face as she looked at Jean. "I can be mean sometimes. I really was mean to Otis when he bumped into me."
"And just a day later she was very kind to me," Otis assured his mother.
Maeve turned to Otis and said quietly, "I'm really glad you sat next to me, muppet."
"I didn't have a choice. It was pure dumb luck," Otis said softly.
Maeve smiled and turned to Jean, raising her voice. "Otis had this thing last night that love isn't about grand gestures or the moon and the stars and all that stuff. You can fall in love with someone and it's just pure dumb luck if they feel the same way about you."
Otis turned to his mother. "Eric said I should start a motivational podcast called The Teen Whisperer."
"You've made up?" Jean asked, pleased.
"Yeah. At the dance," said Otis and the relief in his voice was obvious.
"So it was a good night, then?" Jean said, satisfied.
Otis and Maeve looked at each other and Maeve shrugged. "Ancient history, Otis."
Jean watched them staring tenderly at each other and pondered how Otis had been slipping in and out of self-consciousness all evening and how even Maeve had seemed surprised by some of the things she had been revealing.
"So, Maeve," Jean began, "you were the one who asked Otis to… what's the current terminology? Not go steady but same thing?"
Otis rolled his eyes, clearly uncomfortable but holding his tongue, and Maeve turned to Jean, smiling and feeling as if she had known her for such a long time already.
"I was waiting for him to ask me," Maeve said, theatrically. "I was laying out all the clues one by one, clearly marked, but, and excuse me for saying this, Jean, as amazing and insightful Otis can be most of the time, he can also be a little thick sometimes. Can't you, muppet?" she said softly and fondly.
Otis pressed his lips together and asked, "What clues?"
"Well," Maeve continued, "I don't want to say in front of your mother because I don't want to embarrass you—"
"When has that ever stopped you?" Otis asked, snorting.
"Suffice to say," Maeve continued, chuckling softly, "if you can't see a whacking great neon sign saying 'Kiss me, you fool' then there's no hope for you."
"The bulbs were all broken," Otis mock protested, feeling very uncomfortable.
"You were just not looking, muppet," Maeve smiled, shaking her head.
"Well," Otis murmured and went with it. "The glow you were giving off was blinding me."
Maeve stared fondly into his eyes for a few moments. "You're so sweet, muppet," she said softly.
Jean smiled and said, "I remember when your father asked me to commit to a relationship. We were at a party in Soho and we'd hooked up a few times—"
"Mum," Otis protested, loud enough to make Maeve jump.
Jean blinked and pondered. "On second thoughts, that may actually be an inappropriate moment to repeat to my son."
Otis shook his head in disbelief and Maeve wondered exactly what Jean would consider inappropriate.
Jean sighed. "Tell me, Maeve, are your parents as embarrassing to you as I obviously am to my son?"
"Mum," Otis whined.
"No," Maeve said and then a sense of déjà vu came over her and she stammered, "I mean…"
Jean smiled and shook her head. "So what do your parents do, Maeve?" she asked, innocently.
Otis quickly turned to his girlfriend. "Maeve, you don't—" he began, concerned.
Maeve shook her head and realised she wasn't quite as prepared for this moment as she thought she would be. "It's okay, Otis. Jackson's mums asked the same thing."
Jean noticed the sudden undercurrent and said, "I'm sorry. I'm prying."
"No, Jean, you're not," Maeve said quickly then turned to Otis and said, "It's a normal question, muppet."
Jean took a sip of her wine and wondered where the minefield had been hiding.
Maeve collected her thoughts and took a breath then looked at Jean and her voice carried an undertone of rehearsal. "I don't know my dad. I popped out and he took off. I've been told I met him but I don't remember him."
Jean inhaled a soft breath and kept her eyes on Maeve's and stayed silent.
"And my mum's an addict," Maeve continued. "In and out of rehab all the time. Haven't seen her in a couple of years. Last I heard she was up north with her latest fella."
Jean noticed Otis put his hand gently on Maeve's shoulder and Maeve relax slightly against it.
"And I have a brother called 'Idiot'," Maeve continued. "He's out of my life at the moment. His choice."
When Jean seemed sure Maeve was not going to say any more, she said quietly, "That can't have been easy for you to tell me, Maeve."
Maeve shrugged. "I lied to the parents of my last boyfriend. That didn't work out well."
"I appreciate your honesty, Maeve," Jean said, softly. "Truly."
Maeve nodded and pressed her lips together in an uncertain smile. "Me and Otis have a thing about honesty today."
"We're not our parents, Maeve," said Jean then noticed Maeve's reaction and backed off and turned to look at her son and smiled, ruefully, "and I can see Otis is very grateful for that."
Maeve looked at Otis and smiled gently, murmuring, "He shouldn't be."
Otis gazed at her tenderly.
Maeve took a few moments to accept his love then breathed deeply and glanced around the table and said, "That really was delicious, Jean. You're a very good cook."
"Do you cook much, Maeve?" Jean asked after a slight pause.
"Nothing fancy," Maeve shrugged. "Since I live alone, most times I can't be bothered going to the effort."
"Living alone is no reason to forgo the pleasure of cooking," Jean said, hoping they were inching their way back to safe ground. "Preparing a meal for oneself is an expression of self-love."
Otis dropped his head and rolled his eyes. Maeve noticed but kept her attention on Jean.
"We spend time and effort preparing a meal which lets us know that we value ourselves," continued Jean.
"I've never thought of it that way," said Maeve.
"And, of course, cooking also relates to other forms of love," Jean continued, seeming to get into her stride. "Cooking for Otis is a demonstration of familial love."
Otis raised his head in trepidation as he sensed where this was going.
Jean continued, oblivious. "And of course, there's cooking for a lover or sexual partner—"
"Mum," Otis protested.
"Food and sexuality have been linked for centuries—" Jean said, calmly.
"Can't we just let this meal be about food?" he asked, frustrated.
Maeve reached out and slowly stroked his shoulder.
"Sexuality is part of our existence, Otis," said Jean.
"Jean's not wrong, muppet," Maeve said quietly.
Otis looked at Maeve then lowered his eyes and shook his head. Maeve gave his shoulder another gentle rub.
Jean studied their interaction, wondering why her son – whom she loved dearly – always had to make a drama out of everything especially when she was only trying to restore normality to the evening.
"Otis is a really good cook, Maeve," she finally said, hoping this was not another minefield.
"Mum," Otis protested without force.
"It's okay, muppet. This is part of the sales pitch," soothed Maeve.
"He's a natural at cooking. Give him a quick look at a recipe and I'm sure he can make anything."
"That's not true, mum," Otis said, almost blushing.
"Don't be modest, Otis," Jean said. "You should claim the things you are good at."
"Do you watch a lot of cooking shows, Otis?" Maeve looked at him and asked, blandly.
"Sometimes," Otis said. "More than sometimes."
"And he can come up with some really nice variations so it's not the same thing all the time. Very inventive," Jean said.
"Really?" Maeve said, looking at Otis with a smirk and wondering whether his mother understood what she was actually saying.
"Need to switch things up a bit," Otis said, still not quite getting it. "Keeps things interesting."
"It certainly does," Maeve murmured.
"So would either of you like dessert?" Jean asked, hoping the minefields were behind them.
"No, thanks, mum."
"No, thanks, Jean."
Jean nodded and stood. "Otis, could you help me clear the table, please?"
Otis nodded and stood and was reaching for the plates when his phone rang.
He was torn between answering it and helping his mother when Maeve gently rubbed his shoulder.
"Answer it, Otis," she said. "I'll do this."
Otis gazed at her for a moment then nodded and took his phone out of his pocket and walked over to the far edge of the balcony as he answered it.
Jean glanced at Maeve as she began to gather the plates and cutlery from the table and then Jean grabbed the remains of the stir-fry.
They walked into the house in silence and Jean placed the stir-fry on the kitchen table then walked over and opened the dishwasher. She took the plates from Maeve and placed them in the dishwasher and closed the door.
Jean slowly turned to Maeve and began to speak, tentatively, "I'm s—"
"Don't say sorry, Jean. It's okay. It's a normal question to ask. I knew you would."
Jean nodded and took a deep breath. "It must be hard, Maeve. Choosing independence at your age is one thing, having it forced on you is entirely different."
"I manage."
"I'm sure you do. Doesn't mean it won't get tiring sometimes."
Maeve glanced out the window at Otis as he talked on the phone, smiling.
"Some days are harder than others," she said. "Muppet makes it easier."
Jean mouthed 'muppet', smiling to herself.
Maeve noticed. "He's making me soft," she said, wryly.
"The strength to be vulnerable is one of our greatest strengths," Jean said softly.
"Are you trying to therapize me, Jean?" Maeve asked, smiling.
Jean pursed her lips into a smile of chastened acknowledgement. "Would I do that, Maeve?"
"It reminds me of him," Maeve said, softly.
"I'm sure he wouldn't like hearing that," Jean said, wryly.
"Tough," said Maeve, smiling.
Jean stared at her softly. "I'm really glad you came over tonight, Maeve. I'm really glad to have met you."
"Me, too," said Maeve. "It's been really good. All of it."
Jean nodded and smiled. "I'll leave you two alone now. I have some things I need to do. I hope you come over again, Maeve."
Maeve nodded as Jean walked out onto the balcony to pick up her wine glass from the table. Jean caught Otis' eye, smiled and indicated the direction of her office. Otis nodded and returned to his phone call.
Jean walked back inside, smiled at Maeve then walked toward her office.
Otis looked up as Maeve stepped back onto the balcony, spoke briefly into his phone then put the phone back in his pocket. He glanced at the table which had been cleared of the dinner plates and cutlery.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly.
Maeve shook her head. "It's okay. Who was it?"
"Eric."
"What did he want?"
"He was wondering about your reaction to the décor?" Otis said after a pause.
"It is an interesting art collection your mum has," Maeve murmured, smirking.
"I did warn you."
"Some of it is actually really good. I like the orchid on the wall."
"That's, um…"
"I know. I just didn't feel like saying 'minge'."
"I should be used to it by now but…" Otis murmured.
"It's intimidating?"
"Well, I'm not making comparisons between myself and the item on the side cupboard, if that's what you mean."
"I should hope not. No way something that size would ever come near me," said Maeve and smiled at Otis' returning discomfort.
"It's just… I can't get away from it," Otis sighed. "It's everywhere. Sex sex sex sex sex."
"Teenager's lot in life, innit?"
"At least if I was into porn I could turn it off. But they're always there."
"Have you asked your mum to move some of the more… expressive items?" Maeve asked softly.
Otis rolled his eyes and sighed. "She says there's nothing wrong with representations of sexuality and to deny their existence or seek to hide them from our view would be to generate many neuroses that could inhibit forming my own sexual relationships."
Otis shrugged and raised his eyebrows in disbelief and Maeve pursed her lips sympathetically.
"She's really nice," she said. "Thank you for letting me meet her. I kind of feel like I've known her forever."
"I'm surprised at some of the things you came out with tonight."
Maeve grinned. "Yeah, me, too, but she's so cool."
Otis looked sceptically at her.
"I'm looking from the outside, remember?" Maeve said.
Otis stepped toward her. "I'm sorry about—"
"It was normal, Otis. If I didn't want to say anything, I would have made something up again. I knew she'd be okay with it."
"How?"
"Because you've told me about her. More than I think you even know." Maeve paused and swallowed then asked, "Do you really not share anything with your mum?"
Otis flinched and sighed. "What else did she say?"
"No, it was just watching the two of you. Listening to you. She just wants to be part of your life, Otis."
"I just…"
"Why not just share some little things? The stuff we've talked about tonight. Most of it wasn't anything that it's really bad for her to know, was it?"
"The letter?" Otis asked.
Maeve almost blushed. "Yes, well, I was feeling relaxed. Forgot myself for a moment. But other than that?"
Otis was quiet for a moment then bowed his head. "No."
"No. So why not try giving her those types of things and then maybe she'll back off a little for the things you really don't want her to know?"
Otis looked at the ground and sighed then raised his head to look directly into Maeve's eyes and nodded. "I'll try."
Maeve smiled softly. "Good."
"So what did you tell Jackson's mums?" Otis asked, eager to change the subject.
"My parents were accountants."
"Do you know much about accounting?"
"No," Maeve said, sheepishly.
"Was a good choice."
Maeve crinkled her nose. "Where's the lav?" she asked, smiling.
"Diarrhea attack?" Otis smirked.
"No," she chuckled.
"Up the stairs. My bedroom is at the end. Bathroom is on the right just before it. I'll be up in a few minutes."
Maeve walked back inside and Otis followed her. He watched as she walked up the stairs and smiled as she turned to smile at him before disappearing from sight.
He heard movement from his mother's office and walked over to the door.
Jean seemed almost startled as she turned from her laptop.
"Something wrong, darling?" she asked, hoping guilt wasn't showing on her face.
"What are you writing about?" Otis asked, idly curious.
"Oh, nothing. Just… complete rubbish. I've already deleted it. Emptied the trash. Gone."
Otis nodded. "So what made you start writing again?"
Jean paused. "Your father. He can be just so…"
"Condescending?" Otis asked with a smile.
Jean smiled blandly. "He's your father. You shouldn't say such things about him."
"So what are you going to write about now? Any ideas?"
"They say write what you know. Post-divorce sexuality? Post-divorce trust issues? I don't know."
Jean had turned away and didn't notice Otis flinch momentarily before covering it up.
"Anyway, I'll figure it out," Jean sighed then turned back to Otis. "More importantly, Maeve is lovely, Otis."
"She's amazing, isn't she?" Otis grinned.
"I hope you invite her over again."
"She really likes you as well," Otis murmured. "Too much."
Jean smiled. "I wasn't too bad, was I?"
Otis smiled, paused, took a deep breath and said, "Mum…?"
"Hmm?" Jean hummed.
"Remember how last night I asked you not to sleep with Ola's dad?"
Jean hoped this lot of guilt also wasn't written over her face. "Ah, yes…"
"I was wrong. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry," Otis said.
Jean gazed at him in surprise.
Otis swallowed and continued. "If you like Ola's dad and you're lucky enough that he likes you, I don't want you to not take the chance of being happy if you want to try. I don't want to be the person stopping you trying."
Jean took in a slow breath and studied her son's face. She could see he was fighting his tendency for concealment.
"I love Maeve," Otis said, "I really do and I'm feeling really happy right now, mum. Despite you two ganging up on me."
Jean put her hand to her chest in a gesture of mock-shock, her eyes glittering.
"It'd be nice if you could be happy like that," Otis said, softly. "Again."
Jean tried to conceal how moved she was. "Of course, this has nothing to do with the fact that if I was involved with someone I'd have less time to pry into your life."
Otis shrugged and smiled. "There's a small possibility that was taken into consideration as a beneficial side-effect."
Jean stood and stepped forward and Otis stepped into her arms.
"Darling," Jean said quietly.
Otis took a deep breath and forced himself to speak. "I almost lost Maeve last night, mum. It wasn't a good night," he said quietly. "I hurt her. Big time. That's what the letter was. An apology." He paused a moment. "I don't want you to lose somebody if he means something to you."
They held their embrace for a few moments then stepped back and stared at each other.
Jean blinked a few times and swallowed before speaking. "Thank you for opening up to me, Otis," she said quietly. "Thank you for sharing. I miss when you used to share things with me."
Otis nodded and pressed his lips together in a soft smile. "I'm still delirious from Maeve asking me to be her boyfriend. Don't get used to it."
Jean smiled knowingly at him. "I won't," she whispered. "Now go on. I think there's a lucky girl waiting for you."
Otis nodded and turned and walked out of his mother's office.
Jean called after him. "You know where the condoms are if you need them."
Author's Notes: I still don't think I managed to achieve what I was aiming for. Hope it's enjoyable enough.
