Lisa woke up the next morning having had very little sleep; while she'd deliberately been ignoring Greg and James' charade and obvious attempts at keeping her awake and attempting to get a response and a rise out of her, it had still somewhat worked and she hadn't slept much and was downright enraged that she was still kept up all night by them.
Lisa staggered out and got into the bathroom to take a shower to try and wake herself up, but still felt zombified as she went through the motions of the morning that had become her new normal. Blythe seemed rather tired as well, but Greg and James were their usual, worked up selves who just proceeded to talk all through the morning about bullshit that Lisa honestly couldn't give less of a rat's about. "How are you not exhausted?" Lisa rolled her eyes at them as they sat around the tiny round table, scoffing down their breakfast.
"Youth?" Greg answered.
"Youth? We're the same age!"
"He means being young at heart, aka, not being a 98-year-old lady in the body of a worn out, miserable, used middle aged woman," James countered and he and Greg high fived one another.
"No, I'd much rather be a middle-aged gay man who behaves like he's 19 and living in a frat house," Lisa muttered.
"Right, that's enough out of all of you," Blythe stated, which shut the guys up straight away.
"Give me your secret witch powers over them," Lisa half joked as Blythe just smiled and winked back.
"Who's driving today?" Greg interrupted, "I could drive,"
"Not on your life are you ever getting behind the wheel of my car," Lisa shut that suggestion down right away, "I'll drive,"
James leant over and whispered something in Greg's ear who had a cheeky grin come across his face and nodded, "absolutely you should drive, 100%," Greg agreed.
As they drove down the highway, Greg and James were sat in the backseat, muffling giggles between each other; "what are you two doing?" Lisa mumbled, she glanced over at Blythe next to her, but she had earphones in and appeared to be dozing. Just don't pay attention to them, Lisa, they're only doing these things to wind you up and get a rise out of you, because before you have given them reactions.
Lisa heard a sharp cough and spun her head around to see James taking a swig from a vodka bottle, "what the hell do you two think that you're doing back there?" Lisa screamed.
"Hey, if you want to deal with two gay frat boys in the bodies of middle-aged men, then we're more than happy to oblige," Greg shrugged, reaching for the bottle.
"Have you two gone insane? Really? What the hell has gotten into the both of you lately? Every single day is more crazy, insane, reckless, immature and stupid than the day before!" Lisa screamed and banged her hands on the wheel, "you stupid, stupid men!"
"What's going on?" Blythe asked, taking out one of her earphones; "why are you yelling? Is everything OK?"
"No! Everything is not okay! Those two idiots are drinking vodka!" Lisa screamed, "what the hell is wrong with you imbeciles! You complete and utter asses!"
"Hey, hey, leave them be, Lisa. Remember what I told you last night, they're only trying to upset you because it's fun for them. Don't make it fun for them," Blythe shrugged, "and again, they are adults, they're over 21, if they want to drink alcohol, well, that's up to them. Do I think they're being smart right now? No. But I can't control them. Just ignore them. Don't give them what they're looking for,"
"Yeah, Lisa, don't give us what we're looking for," Greg added, slurring slightly.
Gritting her teeth, Lisa pressed down on the accelerator, "God, I'm going to need a holiday from this freaking holiday," she muttered, as she heard Greg and James laugh behind her, "I want to pull over and kick your ungrateful asses out of my car," she snarled.
Without watching where she was going, she reached around and snatched the bottle out of James' mouth, catching him off guard, and proceeded to throw the half empty bottle out of the car window. Within seconds, the unmarked black car travelling behind them began flashing red and blue, "oh for heaven's sake," Lisa snarled, "you two are paying for this ticket!"
"You're the idiot who threw a bottle of vodka out of the car window at a police cruiser!" Greg yelled back.
"Greg, that's enough now, please," Blythe mumbled as Lisa pulled onto the shoulder of the road and the policeman exited his vehicle.
"Ma'am, do you have any idea why we pulled you over this afternoon?" the police officer questioned.
Lisa hung her head and sighed, "I think I do,"
"Can I see your licence and registration please? And then I'll need you to step out of the truck," the policeman recited, to which Lisa did just that. After conducting a field sobriety test, much to Lisa's horror and embarrassment as she saw other vehicles speed past and was certain that they were all watching and judging her, she was told to get back in the truck and wait. The police officer then came back to give her a ticket and a lecture on not littering, and on never throwing glass bottles out of the window of a moving car.
"I'm so sorry, officer, we will ensure that this never, ever happens again," Lisa promised, shooting a momentary glare at James and Greg in the backseat through the rear view mirror, before they headed out on their way once again. The boys remained silent and well behaved until later that afternoon and reaching into evening, when they reached their next stop in Detroit, where while they were driving around in search of their home for the night; Greg pointed out that there was a Walmart just ahead. Remembering that everyone had been wearing basically the same clothes for about three days now, Lisa pulled into the parking lot. "I will see you two in an hour, I just need to have a break from the both of you, for all of our sakes," Lisa muttered and then watched Greg and James wander off down an aisle towards the men's clothing section.
An hour later and Lisa was waiting for both of them to return to the truck, as they did, with several bags about thirty minutes late, as they climbed in Lisa felt her tolerance level waning further, "what took you two so long?" she speculated.
"We went to the DVD section, found some stuff to watch," Greg added as James just shook his head in disapproval, clearly whatever they'd found was not to James' taste; "hey! At least now you won't have to worry about buying them online. Plus, I found a bunch more different movies too!" Greg continued cheerfully.
"Oh goody," Lisa muttered, "is that why an hour became ninety minutes? We've been sitting out here in the cold, in the rain, waiting for you two bastards to come join us,"
"Lisa, please don't talk to my son or James that way," Blythe cut in, her voice certainly having a bit of an edge to it now; "since I've been staying with you three; all I've heard from you is how angry my boys make you feel, and you constantly calling them various names, cursing at them, mocking them, or just generally treating them poorly or as though they are children. You're supposed to be their friend, I don't know why you've been like this. You two just lost track of time in the shop, didn't you?" and Greg confirmed that was why they were late.
Lisa bit her tongue as they checked into the hotel; Blythe mentioned that she had a headache and was going to go lie down, while Lisa stated that she was going to go have a look at the bookshop next door to the hotel and would be back later. Greg watched quietly and with concern as he watched his mother stagger towards the bedroom, grabbing a hold of the kitchenette countertop as she did so to steady herself. James ran over and held out his arm across himself for her to hold onto and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders to prop her up against him, "are you feeling dizzy?" James asked.
"A little bit," she muttered, as Greg limped into the room, clearing a path where no obstacles would be in her way, pulled back the duvet and top sheet, fluffed up the pillows, and switched on the lamp to avoid turning on the overhead light and James helped support Blythe as she staggered in and flopped down on the bed.
"James, could you find a bucket, or a trash can or something, please?" Greg requested, as he helped his mom lie back on the bed, "are you having a migraine?" Greg asked softly and his mom nodded weakly, "okay, do you have any of your triptans?" he continued and unsure, Blythe shrugged, "okay," Greg got up and went back into the kitchen and lounge area and hunted through her bag and found one. James went silently back into the bedroom with the trashcan, and Greg followed him in with a glass of water in his non cane hand and passed it to his mom before fishing out the triptan from his pocket, tearing open the foil seal and passing the pill to his mom who took it; "this will help too," he took out his bottle of Vicodin and put one in his hand as he gently perched himself down on the edge of the bed; "just take one for now, they're pretty strong, but if you need another one you can have it, I'll see how you're doing in about half an hour, okay?"
"Greg, no, I can't take your medicine. That's yours, you need it," Blythe mumbled.
"I'll be fine, he's the one who prescribes them to me anyway," he pointed at James who was standing next to the bed, "and I've got enough saved up spare that I can give you one or two when you need it. You've had Vicodin before when you've needed it, so I know that it's okay for you," Greg reassured her. Blythe smiled at them both and took the offered pill and a sip of water; "it takes roughly twenty or so minutes to kick in. James and I will just be in the lounge room if you need anything, so just call out, otherwise one of us will be back in about half an hour to see how you're doing. He's put the trash can by your bed in case you need it. Hopefully the combination of the triptan and the Vicodin will have you feeling much better by then. Try and get some rest, love you mom," as he brushed back her hair gently with his fingers from her forehead and switched off the bedside lamp.
"I love you too, both of you," she added, "my sweet, kind, caring boys," as they silently crept back out of the room, closing the door softly behind them.
James and Greg sat silently down on the couch, not wanting to turn on the television as so to not disturb Blythe in the next room who was trying to sleep. "You know," James started, "for someone who famously doesn't care about bedside manner, you sure showed a great amount of it back there,"
"She's my mom," came Greg's reply, "plus I'm used to it. She's always gotten migraines; not as often now as she used to, but still. Dad just didn't give a shit when she was sick, or even would deliberately make it worse for her, so I learnt how to help and compensate so at least he would be neutral towards her instead of plainly downright cruel when she got sick,"
"You're a good man. A very good man," James smiled, and Greg smiled back, as he leant in for a kiss, which James happily accepted and reciprocated. It didn't take long for what began as a gentle peck turned into a full shirtless make out session on the couch, although both men kept the volume down as much as possible to not wake up Blythe.
Lisa happened to walk in at that moment to see James over the top of Greg; grinding and verging on dry humping on top of him with Greg's hand squeezing onto James' plump ass as they took absolutely no notice of Lisa's presence; James could feel himself becoming excited and ready, and if the swelling bulge he could feel developing through Greg's trousers were any indication then he was too. Greg let out a near silent gasp as James bit gently down on the side of his neck and using his hands held Greg's arms above his head as he kissed him firmly and passionately and was immediately returned just as enthusiastically. In just that moment, Lisa threw down the bag of books as loudly as she could onto the countertop and screamed, "what the hell? You absolute inconsiderate, disgusting jerks! It's people like you who give gays a bad name! You nasty, filthy men!"
Feeling immediate deep shame, James immediately sat up leaning forward and crossing his legs over each other to hide what up until that second had been a rapidly growing erection and he felt quite self-conscious over it as he knew it must be so obvious through his sweatpants. Greg also sat up and pulled his shirt back on and pulled a cushion onto his lap.
"What's going on?" Blythe walked out of the bedroom, having felt marginally better just to hear Lisa screaming obscenities and spitting venomous words at her son and James, which made her stomach churn again.
"Put a shirt on, you fat bastard," Lisa snapped, throwing a shirt at James, "nobody wants to see any of your body," and James, with his head hung low and a silent nod, pulled the shirt over the himself.
Upon hearing this, Blythe felt herself bubbling up in fury, "hey, hey," she snapped, "what's going on?"
"Oh, like you're going to be objective," Lisa rolled her eyes at Blythe.
Greg snapped then, "watch your mouth, Lisa, that's my mom you're talking to. And how dare you insinuate that James' body is anything but amazing. I happen to love his body; and like you can talk! You've probably put on about 25 pounds yourself over the past few weeks! And so have I! You need to quit putting James down! He's done absolutely nothing to you!"
"Yeah, you and I have put on about 20 or 25 pounds on this trip- James must have put on at least 60 pounds! At this rate, he's going to become seriously obese before the month is out!" Lisa yelled back and James hung his head low, in shame and embarrassment while Greg stood up and strode over to Lisa, staring her down with pure viciousness filling his blue eyes with such an intensity that made Lisa step backwards.
"Yeah! He's on fluvoxamine and olanzapine from his suicide attempt! Of course he's put on a bit of weight! You remember that suicide attempt where he nearly died? More than once! Once we get back to New Jersey we're getting him straight in with a psychiatrist to stabilise his medication! Until then, there's nothing that he can do about it! Quit shaming him! He could weigh 400 pounds and I'd still love him just the same, because I love him for him! In fact, I don't mind that he's filled out a bit! His size doesn't mean anything to me. I'd rather he be mentally healthy and be a little bit chubby, than be sixty pounds lighter and be so fucking miserable that he wants to kill himself everyday!" tears began to fill Greg's eyes, and Lisa realised that she'd probably gone too far with this.
"Lisa, you need to stop right now," Blythe warned, "you need to leave my sweet boys alone!"
"Oh right, you're so objective, aren't you? You're always going to take their sides no matter what!" Lisa snarked back.
"Well, I'll be a lot more objective if I know what was going on to set you off like this than the alternative which is where I assume that you come in here and immediately begin screaming awful things to and about them over nothing at all," Blythe crossed her arms and glared at Lisa.
"We were only kissing," Greg rolled his eyes trying to reign in his anger, as tears of emotion, primarily fury, frustration, and self-disgust spilt from James' eyes.
"They were just kissing, and that's the reaction you have?" Blythe growled; "come on Lisa, for heaven's sake, grow up! They've been perfectly silent and quiet. They helped me get to bed with an awful migraine and took great care of me while you wandered off somewhere. It was you that woke me up from my sleep by screaming awful things at them, and for what? Because of a little bit of kissing? There is absolutely nothing wrong with anything that they were doing. For heaven's sake, grow up, Lisa. And yeah, maybe I am a little bit biased in this situation; but that's also my son and his partner, who I also consider to be a son, that you're talking about there! Leave them alone! And leave James' body alone too; firstly, its none of your business, secondly, he isn't fat he's just muscular and solid, he isn't deathly obese or anything, he's just getting comfortable, which he's allowed to do! Not to mention that it's a side effect from a medication! He can't help it! You have no right to comment on either of my boy's bodies or if they decide to kiss and cuddle on the couch- good for them! They've found true love which isn't an easy thing to do for any of us! You need to stop behaving so jealous and let them be them!" Blythe snapped, "and no more of the slurs or homophobic language either, got it?"
"Oh yes, let's hear all about it from you! All you've done this entire trip is to enable them and their bad choices and bad behaviour! Lecturing me on how I need to just tolerate their insane behaviour! Crazy loud sex all night? Ignore it! Getting drunk in my car? Ignore it! Leave me waiting in the freezing snow for half an hour because they're looking through the DVD section at Walmart? Ignore it! They're cruel to me, ignore it, but God forbid I ever say anything back! Enabler, enabler, enabler!" Lisa screeched.
"Look," Greg pulled out his wallet and took out $100, "I think you need to find somewhere else to stay tonight, and maybe tomorrow. I don't think that any of us, especially me, can be around you right now with all your disrespect. I'm reaching the end of my rope here, Lisa, you need to leave,"
"Fine! Ignore it all! Keep enabling them and their bad behaviour and see how far that gets you!" Lisa screamed, and then Greg grabbed her roughly by the arm and pushed her outside the door.
"You say whatever the hell you want about me," he snarled, "but when you go after my mother and James, then we're going to have big problems. I'll talk to you later," before slamming the door in her face.
Greg returned over to the couch to comfort James, who was now crying heavily and Greg wrapped his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and gently hushed him; comforting him gently, and Blythe walked over to check he was okay, before quietly saying she was going to go lie down a little bit longer once she was sure he was going to be ok.
Greg held James while he cried, and repeatedly called himself ugly and unlovable, which completely shattered Greg's heart to hear him talking about himself in such a way. Greg gently cradled James in his arms, running his fingers through his hair as he softly sung to him, before putting a favourite movie of his on and sitting there, gently running his fingers through his now very long, thick, dark brown hair and continually affirming his love while James slowly calmed down, his sobs becoming a mixture of hiccups and sniffles, and then quietening as James relaxed, sinking into Greg's lap; into his safe place where no one or nothing could ever hurt him, and they watched one of James' favourite comfort movies. Greg sighed in contentment; Lisa may not see it. But this, this, was his version of perfection.