Can't Let You Go

Letting herself into her son's apartment, she carried the suit she bought for him to wear to the fundraiser a few days later. Even though he'd repeatedly asked her to do so, she hadn't called ahead. The sound of the shower running could be heard from the open stairs she ascended without even announcing her presence in someone else's home. Likewise, there was no announcement or hesitation as she entered his bedroom. 

She put the suit into his closet and turned to leave the room. It is only then that she noticed his bed was not empty. A young woman, a very young woman, was asleep. With her arms above the sheets and one leg visible from the edge, it was fairly obvious she was nude. A number of expressions crossed the woman's face before she left the room.

As calm and quiet as she'd been before, she returned to the main floor and sat on the couch, waiting to hear the water stop. Giving him an additional minute to get out of the shower, she called him on the phone. He didn't answer. She dialed again. No answer. She dialed a third time and he answered.

"Hello," he said casually as though he had not just ignored her previous two calls.

"I'm dropping your suit off at your apartment," she declared and ended the call before he could respond.

She could hear a rush of activity from the enclosed loft level of the apartment. Suddenly his heavy footfalls were on the steel steps and just as suddenly they were silent.

"Mother." He was taken aback by her presence in his living room. "When did you arrive?" He walked down the remainder of the stairs at a normal pace.

"I spoke in the present tense, did I not?" Her voice was even colder than normal.

"Yes, you did. Hand me the suit. I'll hang it." Used to finding himself on the receiving end of her irritation, he didn't let her mood get to him.

"I've already done that."

The realization of what that must have meant hit him in the gut. "Shit," he exclaimed with a wince.

"Watch your language," she chastised him the same way as when he was a teenager.

"Mother, this is why I keep asking you to call before you come."

"You do not get to lecture me right now," she raised her voice momentarily before turning it back to ice. "She looks young."

"She's not too young, though. Let me get her Mother, you'll like her."

Returning a few minutes later, he made his way downstairs holding the hand of the young woman who had been sleeping in his bed not long ago.

"Which college are you at? The same one as my son or somewhere else in the city?" Mother asked the young woman before her foot touched the final step.

"She hasn't started yet," her son volunteered.

"W--" the normally staid woman started to protest.

"But she was accepted into a bunch of good schools. Alaris U, Yale, UCLA, Duke, and more."

The true meaning of his statement that the girl was not "too young" hit her, but she regained her composure. "What will you study?"

"She--"

"I did not ask you." Each word was enunciated crisply.

"I plan to go to medical school." The girl finally spoke up.

"I suppose that's acceptable. Which school will you pick?"

"I'm not sure." She looked apologetic as she spoke.

"Why not? It's nearly the end of April. The decision deadline is fast approaching. What does your family say?"

"I haven't picked because there are so many factors to consider for the long term. And my family... well, my family isn't really in the picture anymore."