Bully Moves in Next Door

The warm summer night air washes over my skin as I step out of the ice cold interior of Sarah's car and onto the driveway. Waving goodbye, I watch as she backs out and pulls off, disappearing down the street. I let out a long happy sigh. We had recently made our relationship official and I couldn't be happier.

I turn and walk up the driveway, approaching the back door and opening it carefully. It's pitch black inside and I hear nothing but silence. Mom and Stanley must already be in bed.

After shutting the door behind me, I flick on the lights to discover the dirty dishes from dinner still left scattered on the table as well as the pots and pans used to cook the meal on top of the stove.

My mouth falls open in disbelief. I had texted mom earlier, letting her know that I wouldn't be home for dinner, going straight to Sarah's place once we left work. She'd responded that it was ok, but evidently, Stanley had decided that didn't mean I could skip out on my chores.

I stare at the mess, taking it all in. Suddenly, I felt very tired. My phone tells me it's just past midnight, and I debate whether to leave this all for tomorrow morning but quickly decide against it, fearing Stanley's reaction when he discovers I haven't done what he's expected of me.

Sighing, I roll up my sleeves and begin running the hot water before moving everything into the sink. If I hustle I can get this done in under half an hour. I truly hate washing the dishes, but I fear Stanley too much to risk disobeying him. He's capable of more than I can even comprehend.

My thoughts start to wander as I fall into the usual rhythm of doing the dishes. I hadn't needed to do them yesterday since mom and Stanley went out to dinner. I overheard him telling her it was a reward for "putting up with that dipshit for a week", meaning Tim.

When I'd taken him to the airport yesterday morning before work, he asked me if there was anything wrong with mom.

"What do you mean?" I asked nervously, caught off guard by his sudden inquiry.

"She just seems so distant lately," he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he stared out at the highway. "Is she still upset that we had to push back the wedding?"

"I'm not sure," I said carefully. "She hasn't said anything to me about it."

"Well I can't think of any other reason other than that, can you?"

I offered a casual shrug, my eyes focused intently on the road ahead of me.

"You know, I've been so busy with work and hanging out with Sarah, I haven't been home a lot," I answered, desperately trying to evade his questions and too afraid to answer any other way.

As much as I hate what mom is doing to him, I'm more worried about what the repercussions will be if he finds out.

"Well, I get why she's upset then, I really do. But I'm just trying to get everything squared away at work, that way I won't have to travel as much once we actually do get married."

"Right," I told him, internally worrying if they'll even get that far.

"Maybe when I get back I'll do something to lift her mood. Take her out to a movie or a nice brunch."

He sat next to me quietly pondering to himself until we arrived at the airport. As I watched him go, I couldn't help but think just how in over his head he was, and that it'd take more than just brunch to unhook Stanley's claws from mom.

With the last of the dishes clean, I shut the water off and head upstairs for bed, leaving behind my thoughts on Tim, mom, and Stanley.

Mom's door is still shut when I leave for work the following day and when I get home early that evening I'm surprised to find the house silent and empty.

A note on the table catches my attention and I lift it up to read.

"Kyle,

Stanley and I are spending the day up at the lake. We probably won't be back until tonight, so I took some leftovers out of the freezer to defrost in the fridge. See you later.

Love, Mom"

Frowning, I crumble the note and throw it into the trash can before opening the fridge. The lasagna she had taken out of the freezer was still half frozen, making a loud thunk when I drop it onto the counter.

I text Sarah to see if she wanted to come over and hang out, but she already has plans with some of her friends to go out to dinner and then a movie afterward. So I ended up spending the evening by myself, playing video games after heating up and choking down the lasagna, which is a bit freezer burnt.

When I go to bed shortly after eleven, mom and Stanley still aren't home yet, but the last time they went to the lake they hadn't gotten back until late at night, and after finding the video of them having sex on the dock up there, I understood why. So I don't think too much of it as I fall asleep.

The sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand wakes me groggily from my sleep. Bleary eyed and confused, I glance at the clock to see it's very early in the morning, the soft glow of pink sunlight filtering in through the blinds.

My phone stops buzzing and I turn over, resenting whoever had called and woken me up. Today's my day off and I definitely don't want to be awake this early when I don't have to be. A few minutes later, just as I'm on the cusp of falling back to sleep, my phone starts vibrating again.

Letting out an annoyed groan, I reach behind me, fumbling to grab it and not bothering to check who's calling before I answer.

"Hello," I mumble a bit angry.

"Kyle?" It's Tim. "I'm so sorry for calling you this early, but your mom's not picking up."

"What?" I sit up and run my eyes, trying hard to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

"Your mom. I tried calling her last night like usual but she didn't answer, nor did she a few minutes ago. I just wanted to check if she's ok."

I sigh heavily, "I'm sure she's fine."

"What do you mean? Isn't she there?"

I pause, realizing I slipped up in my half awake state of annoyance.

"Um..."

"Can you just put her on the phone please?"

I try and fail to remember if I heard her come in last night, then reach over to part the blinds and look out the window. Stanley's truck is still absent from his driveway.

"Uh, Tim, I think she might be slee--"

"Just wake her up if that's what you're worried about."

I open my mouth but no words come out.

"Hello? Kyle? Can you just give her the phone, please?"

His incessant impatience leaks into his voice and suddenly it's all too much. My resentment of everything finally boils over; mom's carelessness, her relationship with Stanley, his behavior, even Tim's naivety, all of it, combined with the fatigue of having been woken up so early and forced to try and cover for mom and Stanley, makes my blood simmer.

Anger rockets through me, and in my fed up state, it eclipses all other logic and emotions in addition to emboldening my recklessness.

So, enraged, I open my mouth and carelessly blurt out, "She's not here!"

"What? Where is--"

"With Stanley, she went to the lake with him yesterday and hasn't come back."

"Stanley? That guy from next door?"

"Yes!" I practically shout in exasperation.

"But why--?"

"Ask her," I cut him off harshly. "Im fucking tired of this shit. Stop pestering me with questions so I can get back to sleep!"

I end the phone call in anger and turn off my phone before tossing it back onto the nightstand. Rolling over, I pull the covers up to my chin and angrily shut my eyes, but any attempt to fall back asleep fails, my anger too great to let unconsciousness tug me back under.

But my anger gradually starts to fade, being replaced with a slow boiling dread over my actions, and soon I'm on the verge of panic as I imagine the consequences of what I said to Tim emerging.

What did I do? What the fuck did I do?!

My mind races with all the possible outcomes of this situation now that I've thrown a bunch of cards out onto the table. Will Tim confront mom now? Or Stanley? What would they say? Admit it? Deny it? Then what?

I feel overwhelmed, too many scenarios flashing by and too many conflicting emotions battling inside my chest. Small tears roll gently down my cheeks as I sniffle softly. I feel better letting it out, so much so, that I inadvertently fall asleep at some point after shutting my eyes.

My dreamless sleep is interrupted by the sound of the back door shutting, startling me awake. I sit up quickly and glance at the clock. It's mid morning, and I've been asleep for almost two hours.

Getting out of bed, I open the door and walk into the hall. I can hear mom moving around in the kitchen, so I tentatively climb down the stairs, cautious of what she might say to me when I approach her.

"Morning, sweetheart," she says after spying me creeping around the corner.

"Hey, mom," I say gently. "Where've you been?"

"Didn't you get my note?"

"I did, but you said you'd be back by last night."

"Oh, well there was a terrible storm that rolled in right before we were set to leave, so we thought it best to wait it out in the cabin. It lasted so long that we ended up falling asleep. I would have texted but my phone died and I forgot to bring a charger."

"Uh-huh," I reply skeptically.

"I should get this on a charger, actually," she holds up her phone. "And I really need to shower."

She gathers up her belongings and heads upstairs. I watch her leave, pondering what was waiting for her on that phone once she plugs it in and expect the worst.

To my surprise, however, there is no explosion. The rest of the day, I wait, anxiety gnawing at my insides, expecting the shoe to drop at some point but it strangely never does.

I hear mom on the phone with Tim at one point not long after she gets back home, but their conversation is normal, and he appears to not say anything about what I blurted out earlier.

Despite this, I feel no relief. In fact, this only makes me more anxious that something bad is coming. There's no way that Tim could ignore what I told him, even he's not that daft.

These thoughts occupy my mind in the days preceding his arrival home. The day his flight is due to get in, I practically shake with nervousness, not to mention I'm entirely distracted while working, so much so that Sarah even comments on it.

"Are you ok? You've been jittery for days but it's kinda bad today?"

"Oh," I mumble, "I'm just nervous about Tim coming home. I think he and mom might be fighting."

"About what?"

"Um, I'm not sure," I lie. "Maybe about him traveling so much?"

"You shouldn't make yourself so nervous. Couples fight, I'm sure it'll all be ok."

She places her hand over mine in encouragement and support. I smile softly at her even though I know very well that things surely might not be ok.

That evening when I get home, I hesitantly push through the back door into the kitchen, not knowing what to expect, and find everything completely normal.

Mom is by the counter, preparing dinner, and she looks up and smiles in greeting briefly before returning to chopping vegetables.

"Hey there, kiddo," Tim calls from his seat on the couch and glances at me over his tablet.

"Hey," I offer back, a bit unsure. Standing in the doorway for several seconds, I silently observe them, looking for signs of any cracks in their facade but there doesn't appear to be any.

After changing, I hang out downstairs until dinner is ready to continue studying the dynamic between. When we sit down to eat, I begin to question if I'd maybe dreamed the entire conversation with Tim the other morning. Maybe my fears manifested in some crazy but authentic nightmare that I'd come to believe as the truth.

I've almost convinced myself of this, pondering it throughout most of dinner, when I finally notice Tim, oh so subtly, watching mom from under his eye lashes as she sits next to him, alternating between taking bites of her food and typing on her phone.

My heart thuds heavily in my chest as I carefully peek at him from across the table, attempting to appear nonchalant as possible. His gaze is casual but attentive, carefully tracking her facial expressions whenever she focuses on her phone. When mom's lips briefly turn up in a small but wry smile, my eyes quickly dart quickly to Tim's face and I just manage to catch the slight narrowing of his eyes as he zeroes in on it.

I look back down to my near empty plate, no longer hungry as anxiety settles back into my stomach. How could I have been so stupid as to think, even for a second, that I might've imagined that conversation? It's not that Tim didn't know or wasn't doing anything about it, he just didn't immediately confront her about what I'd said, which means he will at some point, especially if he keeps observing her as he's doing now. The question is when.

--------

Over the next several days, I keep catching Tim subtly watching mom whenever I'm home, keenly observing her actions when she thinks he isn't looking. He's quite discreet about it, much more than I thought him capable of. If I'm not actively looking, I won't notice his eyes discreetly moving from his tablet to her sitting by her desk as she types out on her phone.

Since I work every day, I only see what happens when I'm home and have no idea what Tim observes mom getting up to during the day when I'm not there.

Besides this, they continue on as normal, just with Tim carefully keeping track of mom's actions now that his feelers are up.

My nerves are practically shot and I'm wracked by anxiety as the impending sense of doom looms over me. I have no idea what or when something is going to happen, so my insides remain coiled like a spring loaded trap, ready and waiting.

Nearly a week after Tim has been home, Sarah drops me off in front of the house shortly after 11 at night. I had intended to stay over at her place but she had gotten a call from our boss who needed her to cover for someone the next day. Since I didn't have to work, I decided I'd rather sleep at home than get up early with her so she could drop me off.

I wave goodbye as she drives away, then turn and head up the driveway. As I approach the back door, I hear the faint muffled voices of shouting coming from the other side.

Slowing down, I slowly creep up to the back door and listen carefully. The voices are louder now, though still not clear enough for me to hear what they're saying, though I have a pretty good idea of who's arguing and what they're arguing about.

Is this finally it? My heart begins to beat fast and nervously, careening around the inside of my chest. I take a few steps back and attempt to peer through the window into the kitchen and can just barely see the back of mom's head and nothing else.

Frowning, I stand in the dark of the backyard, unsure of what to do, until an idea crosses my mind. I quickly hurry back down the driveway and around to the front of the house, climbing up the steps to the front porch.

Facing the front door, I grip the doorknob in one hand while sliding my key into the lock with the other. The lock clicks as the key rotates and I gently turn the handle before slowly and quietly pushing open the door just wide enough for me to slip inside.

The pitch black of the front hall cloaks me as I enter and quickly shut the door, the shouting voices no longer muffled by the thick walls.

"You're never here half the time," mom yells.

I crouch and dart toward the staircase, trying to make as little noise as possible.

"And that's your excuse?" Tim yells back incredulously.

He's standing in the living room and even though he has his back to me, I practically see the anger pouring out of him. His body is tense, neck straining as he yells with his hands balled into fists at his side.

I climb the first couple of steps before settling deep into the shadows and looking through the large gaps in the bannister at the spectacle unfolding before me.

Mom stands with her arms crossed under the archway that leads to the kitchen from the living room. She's partially obscured by Tim so I can't see her face but I can definitely sense how she's feeling by her tone.

"No," she answers emphatically, frustration leaking into her voice. "But it's what led us here. What don't you get about that?"

"What I don't get is how! How did it go from just sex to this?! My God, Julie, are you really doing this? Throwing our relationship, our future together, away? For some twenty year old punk you barely know?"

Just then, an unseen voice sound off, carrying a warning tinged with authority, "Watch it!"

Even though I can't see him, I recognize Stanley's voice immediately. He must be lurking in the kitchen, somewhere behind mom.

"No one was talking to you," Tim says through gritted teeth, his head turning slightly to the left as he addresses Stanley.

"I don't give a shit! You were the one that initiated this big confrontation, not the other way around, so I'll speak whenever I damn well please to whoever the fuck I want!"

"I don't know who you think you are--"

"I don't know who you think you are!"

Stanley steps forward, striding purposefully out of the kitchen to stand in front of mom, closely facing Tim. Arms crossed, he wears an expression of disdain on his face, his large, muscular frame towering intimidatingly over Tim. He's close enough that I can see his eyes practically burning with contempt as he stares down at the smaller man.

"I'm tired of this bullshit back and forth," Stanley practically spits in his face. "You can't seem to get it through your thick fucking skull so let me make it clear for you; Julie is with me now and all your questioning of 'how' and 'why' won't change that. Do you finally understand now?"

Throughout his little speech, mom had slowly moved to stand just to the right of and slightly behind Stanley, leaning into him and reaching out to gently stroke his bicep in support. Her touch causes a small smile of triumph to cross Stanley's face, a smile that seems to convey confirmation of everything he just said. Finally, he raises his chin slightly in challenge, daring Tim to say otherwise and contradict him in some way.

Tim's face turns a light shade of red as he looks up angrily at Stanley for several silent seconds before letting out a frustrated yell. Turning he quickly storms toward the front hall and I crouch as low as possible, pressing myself against the wall as he walks by the stairs, wrenches the door open and slams it shut behind him.

Stanley and mom stand together in the living room, watching him leave and then turn to face each other as soon as the door rattles closed.

"You good?" Stanley asks her.

Mom doesn't respond but simply leans in and wraps her arms around him, closing the distance between her lips and his. Stanley's big hands grip her waist before sliding down to squeeze her ass as she kisses him deeply. She moans lightly, pressing her body tightly against his as their lips urgently mold together.

After several seconds, she pulls away, looking up at him adoringly.

"Shit, I'll take that as a yes," he says, offering her a cocky grin.

"The way you stepped in and asserted yourself was just..." she trails off, unable to finish her thought. "It reminded me exactly why I chose you over him and quashed any feelings of doubt I might've had if he'd kept going on."

Her hands run up and down his bare arms, lovingly caressing his round biceps.

"Good. Remember, you're mine now," he tells her firmly, squeezing her ass possessively in order to reinforce his words.

"Always," she brings her mouth back to his and they resume kissing, which quickly deepens to a heavy make out session.

Their heads turn to the side as their lips fight one another. The sounds of wet tongues interlocking mixes with deep moans of pleasure as they pull each other closer, their hands searching and finding different body parts to grab and hold onto.

Mom's hand eventually finds its way down to Stanley's crotch, massaging the bulge in his mesh shorts and causing him to grunt in a mixture of approval and encouragement. Soon, his monster is free, sprouting obscenely from the dark, thick pubic hair that covers his groin and large balls, which hang heavily against the waistband of his shorts.