He gives a yelp as someone fires at his character. He grips the controller, and there’s intense finger pushing as he fires back. He says something into his headpiece, and his character runs toward a building on the screen.
“What’s up?” He spares me a quick glance.
“I need your full attention.”
He sighs. “I’ll just finish this mission.”
Which could mean two minutes or twenty minutes, but if I force him to stop now, he will let his friends down. Cue the mother’s guilt again.
“I’ll be in the kitchen.” I glance once more around the room. It was easier to get him to clean up when he was younger and wanted to help his mama out. But it’s harder to motivate a fifteen-year-old to keep their room tidy.
“Bring your dirty dishes with you.” He doesn’t acknowledge my words, but it’s worth a try.
Fifteen minutes later, Kieren comes into the kitchen carrying his empty plate and balancing two mugs on top of it.
He puts them straight into the dishwasher, and I try not to make a big deal of it while secretly congratulating myself for doing something right.
But the moment is short-lived when he pulls out his phone as he sits on the stool next to me at the counter.
“I want to talk about last night. I’m sorry I overreacted.”
He keeps looking at his phone. “You always overreact.”
He’s right. I haven’t told Kieren the truth about his father. Not all of it. He knows he’s in prison, and he remembers the roadincident. But he doesn’t know about the threats Mark has made to take Kieren from me. Or the harm he would do to me to get to him.
A video starts to play on his phone, and when I peer over his shoulder, he turns the screen away.
“Can you put that down for a moment?”
He sighs and turns his phone upside down on the counter, turning the video off.
“Tell me about the training gym.”
He shrugs. “It’s just a gym, Mom. A guy at school was talking about this new program, and it sounded badass so I went along with him.”
“You’ve got a friend at school. That’s great.”
Kieren rolls his eyes. “Mom, I’m not incapable of making friends.”
I nod along, trying not to appear too excited that he’s made a friend. A friend in the real world who isn’t online.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the program and the gym?”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Because I knew you’d react like this. You’re only seeing the fighting side of it and not the training. You don’t like violence. You’re always telling me to breathe through my anger, to control my aggression.
“Well, controlled aggression is fine. It’s probably a good outlet.”
“That’s a pretty mixed message, Mom.”
He’s right. In trying to teach him to turn away from violence, I’ve ended up alienating him.
“I’ve spoken to Dean, the instructor, and I’m happy for you to keep going.”
He grins. “Dean is badass. He used to be a SEAL. I mean, have you seen the size of that guy’s muscles?”
At the mention of Dean’s muscles, my cheeks flame.
“I hadn’t noticed,” I mumble, as I push off the stool to clean up the dishes so Kieren doesn’t notice my blush.
