October Exclusive - "Tone" - Part 2

Two places are set at the kitchen table. The makings of lunch are ready on the counter. Michelle ties an apron around her waist as if getting ready to do battle. Tom’s stomach gurgles in anticipation. He should have had more for breakfast than coffee and a cruller. Now, he feels as though he’ll do anything for Michelle’s – ‘Mom’s’ – grilled cheese sandwiches. On a cool, fall day. After all that work.

He stands in the kitchen, waiting for Michelle to heat the soup and grill the bread, and the crucial question pops into his head; what kind of cheese?

Michelle has a different question for him. “You ready to get washed up for lunch?”

Tom frowns – does he have to? – and then he nods. He can wash his hands at the kitchen sink. It’ll take around 10 seconds.

Michelle disagrees. “It’s the bathroom for you, mister. Look at those hands, covered in caulk.” She shakes her head at him. “And look at your clothes!” She waves a hand at his hoodie and jeans and makes a clucking sound. “I think you got more caulk on you than on my house!”

“No, I…” Tom twists his lips, looks critically at his clothes. There are a few spots, sure. But whose fault is that? No one told Tom he’d be caulking, and he’d been in such a hurry. He takes out his phone and checks the time. His expression sours. He’s already missed kick-off.

Michelle clucks again. “Don’t get it all over your phone,” she says, taking the device without asking. “You must take care of your things, Thomas.”

Thomas. No one calls him that. It takes Tom back to schooldays, it takes him back to standing in front of his mother, his actual mother, with a bad school report or a broken vase.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says sulkily, watching the phone disappear into the pocket of Michelle’s apron. That’s not fair. That’s not fair at all.

Still, he doesn’t put up a fight when Michelle takes his hand and walks him through to the bathroom. He even allows Michelle to wash his hands, holding them out on command as she squirts soap into his palms, and then she rubs them with her own, rinsing them in warm water until, as Michelle claims, they’ve never been cleaner.

“There’s a good boy,” Michelle says, and there’s the return of that tone from. But really, what tone should she have? Tom’s the one who had dirty hands. It’s not so bad, getting nice and clean. He brings his fingers to his nose and sniffs. “Smells like flowers,” he announces.

Michelle laughs. “Don’t you just!” She winks. “Better not make you smell too sweet and girly, I know you’re a rough and tumble boy.”

Tom blinks. Is he? Well, he’s not a girl of course. And he feels the hint of a giggle in his throat, and Tom understands it would be easy to laugh along with Michelle. To find her comment just as funny.

Instead, he remembers his stomach. “Can we have lunch now?”

Michelle looks at him with an indulgent smile. “What a hungry boy you are.” But she doesn’t move to leave the bathroom. What next? Is she going to want to brush his hair? Is she going to run a bath for him? And it’s that idea, of sitting in a bubble bath, a rubber duckie between his legs, that finally makes Tom giggle.

“What’s so funny?” asks Michelle, beaming at him.

Tom shakes his head. “Nothing.” He won’t tell her about the bubble bath. Those are for babies. He manages to stop laughing.

“I should put you in the bath, you’re really covered in caulk and dirt. Messy boy!”

Tom gasps. “I was just…” No, he can’t have a bath, can’t let Michelle do that. It’s a crazy idea, right? And the image of the rubber duckie returns to his mind. Does Michelle have bath toys? Does she even have bubbles? Probably not, and Tom feels a confusing mix of disappointment and embarrassment.

No. There’s no way he’s having a bath. And yet, if Michelle insisted, could he refuse? Is he allowed?

Michelle taps her chin thoughtfully. “I don’t want to take you home all dirty, Thomas. I think a bath might be just the thing.”

“I don’t…” he stammers. “I’m not dirty…it’s just my clothes.” He blushes. “I’m clean underneath, Mom.” He adds the ‘mom’ sneakily, something to engage her sympathies. It’s better than plain old ‘Michelle.’

And it must work, because Michelle’s expression softens. “Fine,” she says, and Tom feels a rush of relief, along with a glimmer of regret. Because wouldn’t it be nice, being all clean? Wouldn’t it be nice to be washed in soapy warm bubbles?

“But we’d better pop your clothes in the wash,” says Michelle.

Tom feels his frown return. “Huh?”

“Your clothes,” Michelle says slowly, as if talking to a simpleton. “You just admitted they’re dirty. Well, you can take them off and I’ll wash them, and then we’ll have lunch and then your clothes will be clean and dry.” She rubs her hands together briskly.

“But I don’t…I can’t…” What is Michelle suggesting? That he just strips off right here in the bathroom with her? Surely not! There are all kinds of things wrong with this plan, most of all the idea of Tom’s mom…his mother-in-law seeing him naked.

Michelle folds her arms and looks at him expectantly. “Well? What’s the problem?”

Tom bites his lip, and then he remembers. The perfect excuse. “I don’t have spare clothes!” he blurts. He gives a soft smile. “I can’t just be naked.” And he says it as a soft of joke, but he’s still blushing, just saying the word aloud.

Michelle nods. “Definitely don’t want a big boy running around my house in his birthday suit.” And her tone turns sweet as she says brightly, “Because you’re a big boy, aren’t you, not a silly little baby.”

Tom feels the fogginess in his head. The sticky, squishy feeling as his intelligence softens. He nods with his heavy head, enjoys the vague pride tingle between his ears. Because Mom says he’s a big boy. And yet…

“I’m not going to have you run around like a silly naked toddler,” Michelle says. “I’ve got spare clothes for you, right here.” She opens the cupboard beneath the sink and produces two items. One is a fleecy brown, long-sleeved shirt and the other is a white pair of underpants.

Except that’s not quite right, is it?

Tom gapes at the clothing that is in his size but clearly meant for the youngest of children.

Michelle grins. “You’re going to look perfect. Adorable!”

Tom shakes his head. “No way.” He doesn’t want to be rude, but there’s no way he can wear such clothes.

Michelle looks confused. “But honey, what’s wrong?” She points to the front of the shirt. “You like bears, remember?” She speaks slowly, gently, and Tom feels the impact in his mind, encouraging his thoughts to slow down and simplify. As if he’s getting dumber by the second.

“I like bears,” he admits. And then he shakes his head. “My team’s the bears. Cause of…cause of the school. I went to…I went to…” He snaps his fingers, his expression clearing. “Baylor! I wen to Baylor, and our team’s the Bears!” He points at the clothes with derision. “Not bears like that. Those are teddy bears.” Both the top and the underwear have the same illustration, a smiling teddy. He steps back, almost falling into the bathtub. “That’s for babies.”

Michelle laughs. “Don’t be silly, Thomas! Mom’s not gonna dress her big boy up like a silly baby.” She beams at him. “You’re my big boy!”

And the words make sense. The words sound perfect. Or rather, it’s the tone. Michelle’s sweet, lilting delivery, which make Tom want to nod and smile. To acquiesce and allow his mother-in-law to dress him like an overgrown toddler.

But that’s crazy.

“Come on now,” says Michelle. “Let Mom dress you up all sweet and then we can have lunch! I know you want your grilled cheese, don’t you honey.”

Tom feels a building panic in his chest. Michelle’s idea is crazy, and yet he wants to agree. Because his head is soft, because the woman’s voice is so believable, she’s making it all so true.

And then he remembers something important. Something that feels like a get-out-of-jail free card from Monopoly.

Tom stands his ground. “You’re not my mom.” He nods with growing confidence. It’s a fact. “You’re my…mom-in-law.” The words sound strange, but he knows that they’re true.

Will Michelle be offended? Will she be stung?

The woman smiles. She puts the clothes on the side of the tub and reaches for Tom’s hands. She presses them between her own. “No, silly, I’m not your mom. Mommy’s waiting for you at home.” She smiles sweetly at him and says, “I’m your grandma, and you’re being such a good boy for me.” She sighs as if she couldn’t be happier. “You love being a good, good boy for your grandma.”

There’s the tone. The words fill Tom’s ears, they fill his head with the squishy, gloopy confusion. It’s the same as before, except it’s not. It’s stronger.

He doesn’t resist as Michelle puts her arms around him, providing the biggest of hugs. And then she strokes his back, telling him what a good boy he his, such a good boy for Grandma.

Tom feels his body relax in the embrace, feels his facial muscles loosening, the panic in his chest fading to nothing.

Michelle steps away and looks at him. “There. You just needed a hug from your grandma, didn’t you. Such a good boy.”

Tom nods. It’s easy. It’s simple to smile.

“Now, you ready to get dressed. Ready to be a bear for Grandma?”

Tom looks at the juvenile outfit and nods. He giggles. “Uh-huh,” he says softly, because he still feels a little shy, a little silly, but it’s okay, it’s just here with Grandma, it’s just having fun. And he’s always loved bears.

And so, he lets Michelle undress him, arms above his head and jeans and boxer shorts around his ankles. And then he can see himself in the mirror, he can be just as impressed and delighted as Michelle is, seeing the man wearing the fuzzy brown top with the smiling teddy bear, the thick white briefs with the matching bear.

“There you go,” Michelle says approvingly. “All set, you bet! What a good boy you’re being!”

Tom looks at his reflection and grins. He can see that he’s a little taller than Michelle, and so he’s not a baby, he’s a big boy, but he is a little bit small, small enough for cuddles and cute outfits. Small enough to be adorable and good.

“Sweet boy,” Michelle says fondly, and she pats his rear. “Got your chunky on, just in case.”

Tom looks down at his underwear. Such thick undies. Just in case for what? But he doesn’t complain or ask silly questions. The undies are more comfortable than his boring boxers. They’re so soft and fuzzy on the inside, they even make his penis feel warm and happy.

“Ready for lunch, sweet boy?”

Tom nods. “Uh-huh!”

Michelle takes him through to the kitchen and Tom sits at the table while she heats the soup and makes the grilled cheese. With American cheese, Michelle assures him, which will make the stickiest and tastiest sandwich.

“Tell me about your football game, Thomas.”

Tom frowns. He’d forgotten all about it. “It’s…it’s the Bears and the Red Raiders.”

“Oh!” Michelle sounds delighted. “And which one are we?”

Tom grins. “Bears!”

Michelle turns from the stove and smiles. “So, your outfit is perfect!”

Tom nods. He tries to swing his legs, but they’re too long. Instead, he just pats his feet against the floor, back and forth, heel to toe, as he waits for Grandma to finish making lunch. The smell of the toasting bread makes his mouth water.

“Can I have a Coke?” he asks hopefully.

“You can have milk,” Michelle replies. “Now, what’s a red raider?”

Tom’s nose wrinkles as he pictures the opposing fans. “It’s…they’re like…cowboys.”

Michelle turns back to the stove. “That’s nice.”

“No, they’re dumb. Bears are better.”

Michelle turns off the heat and joins Toma at the table. “Mmm…I like bears too. Cuddly brown bears, fuzzy bears just like you!” She tickles his sides and provokes a set of high-pitched giggles.

And then it’s time to eat, and Tom manages a whole bowl of tomato soup and two sandwiches, eating until he’s fit to burst. And he’s grateful of course, full of affection for his grandma, who knows just how to take care of him.

And he feels a pang of remorse, because Dee…Mommy is taking him back to Texas. In fact, it’s Tom who has wanted this for so long. He feels a flicker of surprise at the idea, remembers the conversation last week, a romantic dinner at Borrelli’s.

“Fine. Look, we’ll try it your way.”

“You serious?”

Dee had held up her hands. “I know Long Island is quiet, I know you’re not happy here.”

Tom had reached over; he had kissed those hands. “It’ll be great, I promise.”

Dee had sighed. “It’ll break Mom’s heart, but I’m caving.”

Back in the now, back in Grandma’s kitchen, Tom looks at Michelle. Why would he want to leave her, go so many miles away? He bites his lip. Who will make his grilled cheese now? Who will give him tickles?

“You okay, Thomas?” Michelle asks, looking at him fondly. “You sleepy?”

Tom shakes his head. “No, Grandma.”

“Still hungry?”

Tom pats his stomach. “I’m all full!”

He’s used his best manners, and yet Michelle still has to wipe his face and hands with a cloth before she lets him escape to the couch.

“Now, how will we watch these bears.” She starts clicking through the channels.

Tom feels lethargic and slow as he considers how to explain. “No, it won’t be. You gotta…”  He reaches for his phone and then remembers he’s not wearing his pants. Only the thick, white underwear. The just-in-case.

“It’s on my phone, Grandma,” he says, ready to explain the whole thing to the silly old lady. But then his attention is caught by the screen. Wait.

He points. “Whats…wassat?”

“Hmm?” Michelle puts her arm around Tom’s shoulders. “Oh, that’s Dinosaur Train. Your mommy used to watch this, when she was a little girl.” She pulls a blanket over both of them. “You like dinosaurs?” She kisses his cheek. “You a big enough boy for dinosaurs?”

Tom nods emphatically. And just like that, the football is forgotten as he gazes at the CGI-animation on the screen.

“And you don’t need to go potty?”

Tom blinks heavily in confusion before he understands. He shakes his head, and then he feels a glimmer of surprise as he feels Michelle’s hand snake underneath the blanket to investigate.

“Mmm,” she says, patting the front of his underwear. “Nice and dry. What a good, big boy you are.”

Tom smiles at the praise, and his penis feels warm again, pushing against the fuzzy material of his underwear.

And then he goes back to watching the show, snuggling under the blanket and relaxing as Michelle strokes his neck with gentle fingers, and Tom watches the dinosaurs until he falls asleep.

To be continued...