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Chapter Eleven

Saturday May 24, 2008

11:05am

"Mom," said Tyson, standing at the edge of the kitchen.

Patricia, only minutes awake, sifted through a cupboard in a light knit robe. "What?" she grumbled dryly, not bothering to look back.

"I want to talk."

Tyson had kept a solid wall and a good distance between his mother and himself in wake of the previous afternoon's fireworks.

"Okay," said Patricia, closing the cupboards and turning to face her son. "So, what? You want your phone and your keys again?"

"At some point," murmured Tyson.

"Sit."

Tyson let a sigh pass his lips and dropped into a seat of the dining table while his mother served herself breakfast. He had already completed his morning run, shower and breakfast. The young shepherd crossed his arms and told himself to stick to his guns as his mother dropped into the chair across the table.

"You were saying?"

"I'm sorry I didn't let you know what was going on. I shouldn't have kept it a secret."

Stirring at a bowl of cereal, Patricia interjected. "That you're dating a forty-four-year-old woman."

"Yes."

"No matter how I found out, I wouldn't feel any differently"

"I know it's weird, Mom, but I really like her."

Patricia's eyes narrowed as she chewed. "I'm saying no, Ty. I'm not changing my mind on this."

Tyson put two fingers against his brow. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

"Mom, I can't just end things like that."

"You can."

"But I won't. Please, just listen to me. I love her. We--"

"Are you just trying to ruin my breakfast now?" asked Patricia, and she set her spoon before her, glaring over. "Ty, I don't care what you say about her, honestly. You're not going to get me to change my opinion. I tell you what, you want your phone back?"

"Yeah," grunted Tyson, leaning back in his chair.

His mother took another bite. "Let me finish eating."

Tyson waited in the kitchen, fuming to himself while his mother ate

A few minutes later Patricia zipped upstairs and returned with her son's phone held in her paw. "Call her and tell her it's over," she said.

Grinning in disbelief, Tyson shook his head. "Goddamn it."

"You have two options, Ty. Either call her and end things, or I keep your phone and your keys. And I'm serious, Ty. If I find out you're sneaking around with her, you're out. You're gone."

"That's sonot fair!" Frustration crept into Tyson's tone. He pawed at his face. "You're kicking me out?"

"That's your choice."

After a moment of indecision, Tyson shrugged. "Keep the phone, Mom. This is bullshit." The young shepherd pushed himself away from the kitchen counter while rolling his eyes.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk, if that's okay."

"Be back in an hour or you'll find your shit on the curb."

Tyson knew that his mother was serious as he hustled out of the house. That, if he intended to defy her, his car, his college education and his shelter really were in jeopardy. He tried to remedy the situation, one hopeless plan leading to another. The young shepherd only grew more frustrated with every step.

But when he reached the park, a very simple solution occurred to Tyson.

* * *

10:59pm

The faculty directory on the NISU website was organized by department--Biology, Criminology, English, and so on. After casting a quick look over his shoulder, Tyson scrolled to a familiar pair of golden-yellow eyes halfway down the "Department of Economics" page. He took a moment to appreciate Dr. Elena Rokem's staff photograph--the grizzly-fox clad in a sharp blazer, her muzzle crinkled in the slightest of smiles--then copied her e-mail address into a blank message and shot another glance over his shoulder.

He typed as quickly as he could, and after signing "I love you" Tyson hit the send button and logged out of the computer.

"I'm going to bed," he grumbled, stepping from the chair and turning towards the couch where his mother and Anessa were snuggled up. Brownie points never hurt, he thought, adding, "Goodnight, Mom."

Patricia turned from the television screen and replied with a lukewarm "Goodnight."

Stripping down to his boxers and flopping into bed, Tyson wondered when he would hear from his girlfriend and when he would have a chance to see her again.

* * *

Monday June 23, 2008

9:40am

"Ahhh, Ty!"

Loose-leaf paper, manila folders and a black pair of panties littered the office floor. Tyson held his moaning girlfriend by her hips. The fox felt particularly hot and wet.

Sat atop her desk, Elena steadied her breasts with one paw and her boyfriend's muzzle with the other. Her feet hung an inch from the floor, and with what presence of mind she had left, she repressed the sounds of the pleasure she felt. "Oh my god," she huffed under her breath.

Tyson carried on with a heavy, mechanical rhythm. "Mmm, Miss Rokem," he whispered, lapping at one of the fox's ears. He felt his girlfriend tense, and saw a black paw clamping her wide muzzle shut. The shepherd added a rolling motion into each thrust, and Elena whimpered.

Tyson's eyes shot open when he came.

Cold water shot against his back, and his cum dribbled onto the shower floor. He took a few deeper breaths, gave an underwhelmed sigh and reached for his shampoo.

He had served one month of house arrest. His sentence remained indefinite. Summer had never felt so long.

In a clean tee-shirt and shorts, Tyson fell into the computer chair behind the TV room couch. "Please say you checked your email," the shepherd whispered to himself.

It was a slow and clunky form of communication, but it was better than being cut off entirely.

"Fuck," he cursed, seeing only spam at the top of his inbox. Realizing it was too early for his girlfriend to be at her campus office, Tyson sighed and spun himself in the computer chair. "Hmmm. Goddamn it."

He gave an empty laugh at his own futility, then went to fetch breakfast. He was on the stairs when a bassy grumble perked his ears. He paused to listen closely, then hurried the rest of the way down the stairs and made it to the front door just as a blue CR-X came to a stop near the garage. "Yo!" he called.

"Sup!" Calvin shouted, climbing out of the Honda. "Where the hell have you been, man? I called and texted you a million times."

"I've been stuck here," said Tyson, jerking his head towards the house. "Pissed my mom off and lost my phone and my keys."

"When did that happen?" asked Calvin, stopping at the foot of the porch.

"Few weeks ago."

"That sucks, dog."

"I've been bored out of my mind. Wanna hang out for a bit?"

"Sure. Your mom won't care?"

"She's at work 'til five."

Calvin followed his friend into the house, and they fell onto the upstairs couch together. "So? What did you do?" asked the mouse.

With no cover story in mind, Tyson decided that an ambiguous version of the truth couldn't hurt. "I've been . . . seeing someone."

"A chick?"

The shepherd nodded.

"Well, shit, dude. Why didn't you say anything about it?"

"It's . . . kinda crazy."

"What, she like twelve or something?" asked the mouse with a facetious grin.

Snorting, Tyson immediately put that idea to rest. "No way!" he laughed. "It's nothing like that."

"She from NISU or what?"

"Yeah, and my mom found out about it. She flipped out. We had a big argument, and she threatened to kick me out. So here I am, man: grounded for the summer."

Calvin shook his head. "Damn, dog."

"How's yoursummer been?"

"Meh. Work. Trying to save up money for a place. But I came over to ask if you were going to Sable."

"Shit. When is it?"

"This weekend. Show's on Saturday."

Since they had been old enough to drive, Tyson and his high school friends had made the ninety-minute pilgrimage to the Sable, Indiana summer street fair and car show.

"Shit. I don't know, man. I'll have to ask if I can go."

"Do it. I'm going. Noah's going. And I think Dev's going."

"I want to. I gotta write down your number before you leave. I can't remember anybody's."

"Yeah, dude. Want it now?"

"Nah, I'll get it later."

"You gotta tell me more about this chick," said Calvin, and the young shepherd on the porch quickly changed the topic.

* * *

7:04pm

"So, what do you think?" Tyson asked from the kitchen.

Patricia, home almost two hours late from work, sat alone at the dinner table and looked skeptically at her son. "You don't need your car if your friends are going."

"I don't needit, but it's fun to drive there."

"How do I know you won't run off and see her?"

Tyson's paws tightened, and he deflected the question. "Elena? Mom, I just want to check out the car show like we do every year."

Christ, she's paranoid.

But whatever form of paranoia Patricia operated under was doing its job. Since Calvin's visit, Tyson had thought little but of ways to include his girlfriend on the trip.

Hearing the fox's name put a frown on Patricia's muzzle, and her eyes went to her plate. "Let me think about it."

Tyson let his mother be and marched to the TV room where his father and Anessa lounged. He dropped onto the couch beside his youngest sister, mulling over his mother's reaction.

Well, she didn't just say no.

It wasn't much consolation.

"Where are you going this weekend?" inquired Anessa.

"To a car show.Hopefully."

A few minutes later, Tyson heard feet on the stairs and his mother rose into view. Patricia spoke coolly on her approach. "You can go to your little car show if you promise to call and check in."

Tyson sat up a few inches straighter. "Can I drive there?"

"I want your keys again as soon as you get back."

Yes!

"Thanks, Mom."

"Now scoot your butt over and make some room."

Patricia dropped onto the couch and put an arm across Tyson's back. The young shepherd started at the touch, but once his surprise subsided he let his head rest upon his mother's shoulder. Just for a bit. Brownie points never hurt.