Chapter 8 - Bobby
When Bobby came home he was on his own, his mother came home nearly an hour after him at 5.00pm, so he did his study from his uni subjects of the day and waited for his mother. Right on time Ruth came through the front door,
"I'm home," she called from the front door.
"In here," called Bobby back to her from the kitchen where he had just finished his study. Ruth walked in to see her son, thinking his voice sounded a little strained.
"You OK," Ruth asked her son.
"S'pose," was his reply.
Now she knew there was something wrong with him.
"C'mon, out with," his mother ordered.
"Out with what," Bobby asked in all innocence.
"Something is bothering you. You can't fool your mother," Ruth replied.
"If I tell you, you will either take it the wrong way or get upset," was Bobby's defiant reply.
Taken aback by her son's response, Ruth was hurt that he didn't seem to trust her.
"Please Bobby, tell me. I promise not to take it the wrong way or get upset," she pleaded with her son.
"No, you always take it the wrong way," insisted Bobby to his mother, and he took on the appearance that 'he would not be moved'.
Now his mother was really hurt, to think her son would not tell her what was bothering him.
"But you're such a frump; you never try to be modern like the other mums," Bobby blurted out, his mother smiled to herself, 'I knew he would tell me'.
Were as Bobby thought to himself, 'I had better tell her or I won't get anywhere'.
"What brought this on," Ruth demanded of her son, becoming angry and hurt.
"Did you really want me?" Bobby asked his mother, with a determined look on his face.
"Of course I did, why?" Ruth asked, shocked that her son would say such a thing.
"Well some of the other guys say they have a really special relationship with their mums; you know they just love being together, taking care of each other," Bobby said with an imploring look.
"Don't you think we have a special relationship," Ruth asked her son.
"Not like those other guys. Their mums really care about them and for them.
There's heaps of stuff you won't let me talk to you about like the other mothers and sons," Bobby said with a sullen voice.
Ruth was trying to understand what her son was trying to say, she thought she had an idea, but told herself it couldn't be so.
"What can I do then," Ruth asked, worried her son thought less of her then his friends did of their mothers.
"Well you can change the cloths you wear for a start, and do you shave?" Bobby asked, already knowing the answer.
"What, my underarms?" Ruth asked.
"Yes," Bobby said.
"But what for, I don't go out at all, so what's the point?" Ruth asked.
"Because I care about how you look. Don't you want to look good for me?" Bobby pleaded.
"I didn't think you cared. You know, I'm your mum," said Ruth.
"Of course I care. You're a good looking woman and I want to take care of you like the other guys with their mums. We have been on our own for years now, without dad. Can I look after you mum, you know really look after you?" Bobby waited for his mother's answer.
Ruth now had a very good idea what her son meant and her first reaction was 'stunned', but this was quickly replaced by a strange feeling she couldn't identify and that bothered her a little.
"I just want to think about this for a moment," Ruth said and walked into her bedroom.
She sat at her dressing table and looked at herself in the mirror. 'My own son', she thought, 'but that was wrong; but the look of hurt on his face'. All because he thought that they didn't have a relationship like his friends and their mothers. It pained her to think that he felt less loved, 'but what to do', she thought. Then it came to her, she would play along and see how it went, that was always her best course of action. Yes, go along with this and like all the other things he had chased in his life, he would forget all about it once he started.
There was the drum kit, and that only lasted one lesson -- too much like hard work. Oh, and what about the local rugby league team because his mates played, again too much like hard work. Then of course the numerous pets, which she always had to care for after the first week. No, this was just like all the others, Ruth told herself. After a few hugs, maybe a kiss or two it would be all over, Bobby will have moved on. So she would play along, and anyway she kind of like the idea her son was showing such an interest in her. There was that odd feeling again; that unknown feeling she was sure she had had felt before, but couldn't place it.
Ruth stood up and walked back into the kitchen, Bobby was waiting expectantly for his mother's answer.