{"sf1_id":160693,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Dragon in the Dishwater, Ch 2","author":"comidacomida","words":4433,"posted_at":"2010-07-11T17:15:00.000Z","tags":["Angst","Character Development","Dragon","Highschool","Human","Plot Development","Psychological","Teenager","Trouble","broken home","deep storyline","sociological"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/160693-dragon-in-the-dishwater-ch-2","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/160693","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=160693\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"Dragon in the Dishwater  \nChapter 2  \nCopyright 2006 comidacomida  \n  \nOnce his mother opened the front door Eric pushed right on by, heading  \nstraight up the stairs towards his room. His cheeks were still red from the  \nsession, hands still clenched. The young man mechanically reached the top of  \nthe staircase and turned down the hall going directly to his room. Without a word  \nhe marched down through his door ignoring the dismissing call from his mother  \ndownstairs. With a resounding slam he closed his room off to the other parts of  \nthe house. He knew for certain there would be no way he could get to sleep  \nanytime soon; Eric hated therapists and the night had reinforced why.\n\nIt wasn't ten minutes later that he was vocally cursing at his videogame  \nconsole. Eric hurled a pillow at his closet door with all his might as his F-16  \nplummeted to the ground in a conflagration; almost a month and he still had yet  \nto get past the mission. He flopped backward onto his bed and slammed both  \nclosed fists into the mattresses in a backhand motion. Eric closed his eyes in  \ndread when he heard the knock on his door and, true to form, his mother barged  \non in... but Eric knew what this discussion would be about.\n\n\"You could have at least tried,\" his mother began, moving to sit next to him  \non the bed, \"you fought Doctor Marlow every single step of the way.\"\n\n\"Was it obvious I didn't want to be there?\" asked Eric, standing back up  \nand stepping away from his bed, his mother looking at him with an expression of  \nconcern and displeasure.\n\n\"Yes.\" she replied, her gaze not wavering as she met his.\n\n\"Well good.\" he responded, turning around before taking a seat at his  \ndesk, \"Now that I've met Doctor Marlow we don't have to worry about repeating  \nthe little charade.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, 'charade'?\" she questioned him. He could hear her  \nstand up and could tell by the change of pitch in her voice that between concern  \nand anger the anger was winning out. Eric didn't mind... it usually meant that  \nshe'd leave that much faster.\n\n\"We both know that you brought me along because you were trying to  \nprove to yourself that you're a good mother... like bringing me along would make  \nany difference in therapy.\" he let out a half-hearted condescending \"Ha.\"  \n\"I brought you along because Doctor Marlow wanted to meet you, Eric.  \nWe talk about you all the time during my sessions.\" she responded, standing  \nright behind him.\n\nEric didn't respond. Instead, the young man took out one of his pencils  \nand opened his calculus book. His mother began pacing behind him before she  \nspoke again, \"He wanted to have a chance to meet you so he could see you for  \nhimself.\"\n\n\"You mean... so he could start a file on me and charge you more than he  \nalready is?\" Eric responded, working through one of the problems half way down  \nthe page.\n\n\"If it would help... yes.\" his mother retorted.\n\n\"Help what?\" he asked, knowing that she was leading him on, but not  \nparticularly caring at that point, eager to be rid of the drama and guilt trip she was  \nbringing into his room, \"He's your shrink... and it's obvious he isn't doing a very  \ngood job.\"\n\n\"Eric, honey...\" his mother spoke up, resting a hand on his shoulder, \"don't  \ntell me you don't realize that you have a problem.\" Eric shrugged her arm off at  \nthat, not willing to dignify it with a response.\n\nHis mother let out a deep sigh and continued her pacing, \"You're in your  \nroom all the time... you spend almost as many hours doing homework as you do  \nsleeping... and you don't socialize... not with me... not with friends... you don't  \neven have a pet, Eric. It's not healthy.\"\n\n\"I'm fine, mom... you're the only one who sees a problem.\" he retorted,  \nfingers beginning to clench around the pencil.\n\n\"Honey... it didn't used to be like this...\" she responded, taking a seat on  \nthe bed again, \"don't tell me that you're over your father leaving us... because I  \ncan tell you aren't.\"\n\nEric couldn't help himself-the book closed in front of him and he placed  \nhis pencil down on the desk. It was all he could do to turn the chair slowly,  \npurposefully around so he could look at his mother. His fists clenched and he  \ngritted his teeth, \"He left you... not me.\"\n\n\"He left us, Eric, honey...\" she responded simply, fluidly, as if it were the  \neasiest thing in the world for her to say. The young man's frustration skidded,  \nand veered off the road. He kept his fists clenched as he tried to focus on his  \nanger... but the simplicity and matter-of-factness with which his mother spoke  \nderailed him... and he hated that she pushed the advantage.\n\n\"Eric... your father chose a different life. He chose one that didn't involve  \neither of us.\" she stood up again and moved closer to him, standing by where he  \nsat in his chair.\n\n\"If you-\" he paused, trying to collect his thoughts as his hands began to  \nshake, \"Dad would have-\" he covered the crackle in his voice with a cough,  \n\"he-\"\n\n\"He abandoned us, Eric... it wasn't anything you did, and it wasn't  \nanything I did. It was something he chose for himself. He chose it, Eric. Don't  \nblame yourself.\" she moved to slide an arm around his shoulder, resting her  \ncheek against his head... and that was the end of Eric's tolerance; with a heave,  \nhe stood up from the chair, shoving his mother off of him.\n\n\"Leave me alone!\" he screamed, \"Just leave me the fuck alone! Why do  \nyou have to do this? It's always something!\" he slammed his fist into the chair by  \nhis side, \"Is your life so god damn miserable that you have to go and do  \nsomething like this? Is it all about pretending to be the perfect, understanding  \nmother so you can make my life all better? Well you can't! You can't, because  \nwith you around it only gets worse. Now get the hell out of my room!\"\n\nThe silence that followed his exclamation was long and uncomfortable... it  \ncontrasted the storm of words he had thrown at his mother and, at that point, Eric  \ndidn't pause to survey the damage. He stood staring at her, his shoulders  \nheaving with heavy breaths as his heart surged against his ribs as if trying to  \nclaw its way out. His gaze was a challenging one... whether he meant it or not,  \nand he could see it in the way his mother sank away from him; she tried to be a  \nleader but she always ended up rolling over in a confrontation.\n\n\"I know you don't mean that, Eric...\" she whispered softly, her voice  \ncracking in the frustrating way Eric had come to know as the guilt-trip-in-  \nprogress. He didn't fall for it.\n\n\"Get out... now. I don't want to hear it... and I don't want to talk about it.  \nIf you want to help, just go downstairs and fucking clean something.\" The words  \nwere spiteful and jabbing, but, at that time, there was nothing more from-the-  \nheart that Eric could offer. Without another word, his mother left the room  \nleaving the door slightly ajar as she departed. Eric let out a deep breath, the  \nanger, frustration, fury, and indignation seeping out of him once she had gone.\n\nHe sank into the chair at his side and put his forehead down on the desk.  \nThe young man simply shook his head back and forth. He took in shaky  \nbreaths, working to calm himself and avoid letting his mother's interrogation get  \nto him. For many moments Eric fought against the overwhelming sense of loss,  \nmind stuck on the events of several years past. Homework now far from his  \nthoughts, Eric stood back up and took the few steps required to get to his bed.\n\nHe threw himself onto it and buried his face in the pillow. He had four more  \nmonths until he was eighteen-if his mother continued her antics it would be a  \nvery long four months.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \\* \\* \\* \\* \\* \\*  \n  \nEric dreamt that night. He had a dream about his family being whole-  \nwhole and healthy. It wasn't the first dream like it but something stood out...  \nsomething different. The young man didn't realize right away that he was  \ndreaming, but as the dream continued it slowly became clearer and clearer.  \nHis mother and father were on the sofa, held in one another's arms. Eric  \nwas on the floor, splayed out with his elbows spread wide, palms pressed  \ntogether under his chin to keep his head propped up. They were watching a TV  \nshow together. It wasn't a specific program for, as dreams are wont to do, that  \ndetail was left out... it was simply a program... one they could all enjoy together  \nas a family.\n\nThey were eating dinner; time had passed but, as is the norm for dreams,  \none event led right into another without a transition. The whole Bradish family  \nwas seated at a spotless table next to their clean kitchen. Eric's mother had set  \ndown a pork loin roast with potatoes... real potatoes, and not the instant mashed  \nstuff. There were vegetables and side dishes and a salad with dressing; it was a  \nreal family dinner. That was the moment, however, when the reverie of times  \npast began to slowly unravel.\n\nIt started with a wooden bowl falling onto the floor. It wasn't any big issue,  \nbut Eric realized that it simply didn't sound right. The sound echoed in his mind,  \nreplaying itself over and over again, modifying slightly each time until it  \njuxtaposed over the sound of a door slamming. Eric sat alone at the table, the  \nwonderful dinner forgotten; both of his parents had stormed out of the room due  \nto an argument that hadn't taken place... or, perhaps, through which time had  \nbeen fast forwarded.\n\nAs he sat alone at the table, Eric's dreaming mind slowly began to turn the  \ndream over to his pre-waking thoughts. He began to see the small shreds in the  \ndream... began to pick out the inconsistencies just like someone would before  \nthey awoke. He stood up from the table and went to the front door, arriving just a  \nfew seconds before a knock sounded. Numbly obeying the dream's storyline,  \nEric reached out, gripping the ice cold door knob, and slowly opened it.\n\n\"Well hi there, Eric. Remember me? It's Nina...\" her face was all smiles  \nand her bubbly expression spoke volumes about her outgoing love of life; Eric  \nhated her.\n\n\"Why?\" he asked her, his voice monotone as the same question rang over  \nand over in his head. She continued on as if he hadn't said a word.\n\n\"Oh, you remember me, you big kidder.\" she ruffled his hair with one hand  \nas if he were five years old, \"I'm from your dad's office.\" she peeked her head  \ninside, \"Is he home?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" responded Eric, with venom, \"he's home... where he belongs.  \nWhat are you doing here?\"\n\nNina turned and regarded Eric, her smile a candy-coated poisonous  \nexpression of malice, her perfect ebony skin slowly molding and decaying into a  \nputrid mockery of life, \"Oh honey... we just need to talk business stuff... I'm  \ngonna just go upstairs and steal him for a minute.\"\n\n\"Steal him...\" Eric spoke to himself, and his own words awoke him, the  \nfaintest imagined scents of rotting flesh still lingering on his mind. He had his  \npillow in a death grip, and his teeth were clenched. \"Steal him...\" he repeated  \nafter a few seconds, \"I hate you... I fucking hate you.\" He hurled the pillow  \nacross the room where it struck a bare section of wall, impacting hard enough to  \nmake an audible sound.\n\nThe muted thud could have been loud enough to awaken his mother...  \nwere she not taking sleep aids. Eric scowled up at the ceiling, staring at it in the  \ndark as he laid on his bed, body tense, muscles tight, and brain awash with  \nthoughts. The events of the dream played over and over in his mind and Eric  \nfound himself wiping errant wetness from his eyes. His father had left his mother  \nfor her... his father had left him... had abandoned his family for some slut at the  \noffice.\n\nEric had met her... once. She seemed so horribly perfect. The woman  \nwas like some life-like imitation of a child's doll... no blemishes... no faults... no  \nflaws. She was too perfect... far more perfect than anyone had a right to be.  \nThe young man didn't quite get it at first. The late nights at work... the uneasy  \nsilence between his parents... it wasn't until the fight one night at dinner that Eric  \nrealized just how much his life was going to change. His father was more  \ninterested in the secretary than he was in his own family. Nina was perfect. She  \nwas too perfect... and his father was too smitten.\n\nAt the sound of a sudden crack, Eric's seething apathy quickly derailed.  \nSitting up, fully astute, Eric turned to his toy chest right as another crack echoed  \nthrough his room. The sound broke the last vestiges of sleepy haze from his  \nmind that his anger had not dispelled. Slipping quickly from bed, Eric grabbed  \nhold of the mag light flashlight he kept near his bed. Twisting the metal tube  \naround in his hand, the young man held it with easy readiness, brandishing it like  \na club as he slowly knelt down and opened the lid on the chest.\n\nAnother crack rang out from beneath the pillows... the same sound, he  \nrealized, that the wooden bowl had made in his dream when it had hit the floor.  \nNot one to analyze how dreams could be affected by the events around a  \nsleeper, Eric was far more interested in the sound itself. The young man peeled  \nthe pillows back and slowly unfolded a towel-and there it was.\n\nSituated amidst the nest of blankets, pillows, and linens were the  \nremnants of the crystal Eric had brought home. Flecks of the strange material  \nclung here and there to the cloth but that was not the most significant change to  \ntake place to the geode. Eric stood numbly staring at an egg. He wasn't  \nprecisely sure what kind of egg or exactly how an egg was covered in a  \nchrysalis... were that the case. All Eric knew was, where a large crystal had  \nbeen, an egg of almost equal size was resting in its place.  \n\"\n\nWhat the hell?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \\* \\* \\* \\* \\* \\*\n\nEric found no answers during his free time at school. While he spent his  \nlunch in the library looking up literature on life processes the young man found  \nnothing that could help him. A few idle questions after lecture in his biology class  \nlanded him no closer to knowledge. By the time the final bell rang, Eric was  \nmore than ready to go home. What he was having trouble with was deciding on  \nwhether to watch the egg or try the chisel again. Dissecting whatever's in that  \nthing will get me some answers. he considered. As the thoughts went through  \nhis head, however, Eric realized that a chisel was one thing he was not about to  \nuse.\n\nOn the way home, Eric took time to consider what he knew-or at least  \nwhat he thought he knew. He was certain that the egg had come from the  \nchrysalis... how else it could have gotten in his toy box was anyone's guess. It  \ncould be reasoned that the crystal casing of the egg may have fallen away from  \nthe shell because of a change in temperature... his room was far warmer than  \nthe park had been in many months.\n\nWhat Eric couldn't decide on, however, was just what the egg was or  \nwhat kind of animal it could belong to. He was certain of one thing: if it actually  \nhatched he would have plenty of time to figure out what to do with the creature.  \nA hatchling couldn't possibly be that dangerous... right? Turning the corner and  \ncontinuing on the way to his house, Eric almost tripped over his own feet. He  \nskidded to a stop, looking at his house with two cars in the driveway. He  \nrecognized his mother's minivan... even this long after Eric's dad left his mother  \ncouldn't get away from the suburban housewife theme.\n\nIt took Eric longer to figure out the second car but, as he approached, the  \nlicense plate finally rang a bell. He had seen the car last on his way out of the  \ntherapist's office while he was storming to the van. What caught his eye then,  \nand what had triggered the recognition was the license plate: HERE4U. \"Here  \nfor you...\" Eric rolled his eyes, \"Yea... the men in white coats are here for you...  \nI'm here for you and your money... I'm here for you as long as it fits my  \nappointment calendar...\" He continued contemplating the license plate right up  \nuntil he reached the front door.\n\nBefore Eric could pull out his key the front door opened before him. His  \nmother stood in the entryway, her head cocked to the side slightly almost as if he  \nhad surprised her and not the other way around.\n\n\"Mom... what are you doing home?\" he questioned her right away,  \npushing by and into the house. She closed the door behind him and turned to  \nfollow.\n\n\"Eric... Doctor Marlow is here.\" she noted.\n\n\"Yea... I saw his car... BMW... You can tell his favorite part of the job is  \nhelping people... he's not in it for the money or anything.\" Eric walked into the  \nkitchen with his mother following. He sidestepped a stack of newspapers and  \nopened the fridge. The young man rooted around for a soda while his mother  \nstood quietly behind him and to the side. \"So...\" he asks, turning to regard her  \nfinally, \"You took off early so you could have a home session with the good  \ndoctor? He's charging extra for a house call, right?\"\n\n\"Eric...\" his mother began, and the soda can stopped half way to his lips.  \nHe recognized that tone and he knew nothing good could come of it.  \nEric lowered the can and looked her level in the eye, \"What?\"\n\n\"Doctor Marlow is here to talk to you.\"\n\nEric closed his eyes, calmly setting the can down on the counter, \"No  \nthanks.\" he turned, walking past her as he made his way towards his room,  \n\"Think I'll pass.\"\n\nHis mother reached out and grabbed hold of his wrist, \"Eric...\" she spoke,  \nher voice a little louder than usual, \"You're going to speak with Doctor Marlow.  \nHe's waiting in the living room.\"\n\n\"It's your dime... let him solve your problems. I'm going to my room.\" he  \nanswered, not even looking back at her. He pulled his arm away... and she  \ngrabbed his other one.\n\n\"I'm not asking you to, Eric Nathaniel Bradish. You are going to talk to  \nDoctor Marlow.\"\n\nIt had been a long time since Eric had heard his mother use her \"mom  \nvoice\"... and even longer since she pulled the \"full name\" trump card. While a  \nthousand good come-backs circled around in his head, the young man was too  \nnumbed by his mother's sudden confrontational attitude to choose from them.  \nShe led him back into the kitchen by his arm, and gave him a little push towards  \nthe living room.\n\n\"I'm heading back to work, Eric... Doctor Marlow and I will talk at the  \nsession tonight. Whatever you two will talk about is up to you two and it's totally  \nconfidential... but if I hear that you didn't talk to him then I'm going up into your  \nroom and pulling that videogame thing out of there... and you won't get it back-\"\n\n\"Mom-\" Eric began.\n\n\"Ever.\" she retorted before he got more than one word out, \"I want to be  \nhealthy... and I want you to want to be healthy too.\"\n\nEric wanted to hit something... he wanted to jump up and down and throw  \na fit. He wanted to cry and to scream and to have a ten-point-oh on the Richter  \nScale quality tantrum... but... he just couldn't. Shaking his head, Eric walked to  \nthe living room with the quiet resignation of a man on death row walking to the  \ngas chamber, \"Kill me now, God... just kill me now.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; \\* \\* \\* \\* \\* \\*\n\nEric sat tight lipped as Doctor Marlow observed him. The two had been  \nfacing one another for nearly five minutes without a word from either party. Once  \nhis mother had left, Eric felt strangely more comfortable, which he hadn't quite  \nexpected. Doctor Marlow just continued to sit in the easy chair Eric's mother  \nusually used to knit... back when she knitted. The older man had a small, black,  \nleather-bound writing pad on his lap and a pen held lazily in his hand.\n\n\"It's good to see you again Eric... I was afraid we got off on the wrong  \nfoot.\" Doctor Marlow noted, finally breaking the silence.\n\n\"Yea... we probably did.\" responded the young man, scowling at the  \nhaphazard greeting.\n\n\"Well...\" noted the doctor, \"Perhaps we could start with some of your  \nimpressions... review those and see how you came by them and give you the  \nchance to find out of they're accurate or not... or was there something else you  \nhad in mind?\"\n\n\"I figured you'd just ask me some questions, I'd give you answers, and  \nyou'd tell my mother I was going to grow up to be the next Unabomber.\" replied  \nEric flatly.\n\n\"Do you really think that is why I'm here?\" questioned Doctor Marlow.\n\n\"You don't have a sense of humor, do you?\" retorted Eric.\n\n\"Of course I do... but I also have a sense for someone who has a hard  \ntime talking and a harder finding an ear who will listen.\" the doctor leaned forward  \nslightly, setting the pad of paper off to the side, \"Eric... you don't want to talk to  \nme, do you?\"\n\nEric rolled his eyes, \"Wow... you're even better than my mother said you  \nwere... not only are you a psychologist but you're psychic too.\"\n\n\"I don't have to be psychic to know what you're feeling, Eric. Taking one  \nlook at you: crossed arms, slouched in your seat, heel tapping on the ground,  \ndistant expression... it's easy enough to see you're uncomfortable.\" Doctor  \nMarlow sat back in his chair once again, picking the pad of paper up while Eric  \ntook stock of his posture and did notice that he was slumped forward with his  \narms crossed tight enough across his chest to make his fingers tingle.\n\n\"I'm not uncomfortable.\" Eric countered, \"I just don't need someone telling  \nme how screwed up I am.\"\n\n\"Do you really think you're 'screwed up', Eric?\" inquired the doctor.\n\nThe teen supplied Doctor Marlow with an eye-roll, \"Why else would my  \nmother try to get me to have a session with her shrink... twice?\"\n\n\"Choosing to base your own self image on what others think of you is one  \nway to answer my question, Eric... but you don't strike me as that kind of a  \nyoung man.\" the doctor adjusted the glasses on his nose, \"Do you think there's  \nsomething wrong with you?\"\n\n\"If I say 'no' will you leave me alone?\" asked Eric, moving to cross his  \narms again but catching himself. He rested them on the arm rests again, putting  \nhis feet flat on the ground to avoid tapping his heels against the floor.\n\n\"Yes or no, any time you're done talking with me you're free to leave,  \nEric.\" responded the doctor, \"You're not a prisoner and you can go any time. The  \nonly reason I'm here is because I know how hard it can be if you don't have  \nanyone to talk to. I'm a neutral party you can talk to freely about anything and  \neverythi-\" Doctor Marlow slowed his speech as Eric stood up and walked off,  \n\"Nice talking to you, Eric.\"\n\nEric did not respond and simply headed upstairs taking the steps two at a  \ntime. He rounded the corner, power-walking straight down the hall to his room.  \nOnce there, he threw the door wide and, after a half-second's pause, gently and  \npurposefully closed the door before grabbing either side of his head and holding  \nhis breath to avoid screaming. There wasn't anything particular he could put his  \nfinger on, but Doctor Marlow infuriated him.\n\n_Just what I need... a shrink to drive me crazy._ he vented. Eric began  \nmulling about the room. The young man focused on nothing in particular, simply  \ngoing from object to object to get his mind off of the subject of Doctor Marlow and  \nonto something else-anything else. He didn't have to look very hard. Stopping  \nat the toy box, Eric noticed immediately that something was amiss. More  \nspecifically, the egg was missing.\n\nMoving the three or four feet to the chest with more of a hop than a sprint,  \nEric looked into the container and saw... broken shells. The inside of the chest  \nhad a damp gloss to it... almost as if a thousand snails had left their tell-tale  \ntrails. He stood there for several seconds as his mind came to grips with the  \ndiscovery. The chrysalis, which he had found at the park, contained an egg...  \nand that egg had now hatched. Treading lightly, Eric circled in place, looking for  \nany sign of what might have emerged.\n\nHe moved slowly to the bed, still looking for anything moving... something  \nout of place. \"Some kind of bird or reptile maybe... a bug?\" he asked aloud. A  \nshifting waver of movement near his right hand caught his attention. Jumping up  \nand away from it, Eric was shocked and surprised. A section of his patterned  \nbedspread rose up beside him, slowly losing its color and taking on a decidedly  \nmore olive-green hue. The pattern and color bled away like a chameleon  \nchanging between backdrops; there, right next to Eric, sitting on the bed perched  \nup on its hind legs like some kind of reptilian bunny stood-\n\n_A... dragon!_ Eric thought to himself, and everything began to spin. Unable  \nto catch himself, Eric landed face first against the bed, sprung off of it, and  \nlanded on his back on the floor. \"Ow...\" he murmured flatly, and passed out.  \n\u0026nbsp;\n\n  \n  \n\n","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/160513-dragon-in-the-dishwater-ch-1.json"}