D is for Despot

NB: This post contains inappropriate and offensive language.

Nearly six weeks had passed by since Karls departure and though it was hard to maintain a job and a structured, non deviating, Aspergers friendly regime at home, I’d survived.  Brendon had become more tyrannical than ever insisting that he was now ‘Man of the house.’ He played the role of despot a little too well and took to telling Bryony what she could and couldn’t do or wear and which boys she must avoid or he’d  be having ‘A chat’ with them.
I had found it difficult to sleep what with the break up and work load and my appearance was suffering. The heady days of waking up fresh faced and dewy eyed were a thing of the past.  It was more like sallow skinned and bad hair day 24/7.  During my lunch hour, I had made one of those impulsive decisions to have my long hair cut off into a short bob that just tucked neatly behind my ears and was easy to get done at 6.30am in the morning.  I thought it looked fabulous and I felt reinvented. It did not go down very well with Brendon.  Aspergers and change do not walk down the same street.

“You look like a lesbian.”  He said stony faced “I hate it and I don’t want to look at you.” He walked off to his computer desk to avoid me.

“Really.  That’s nice.”  I said “ And exactly what do lesbians look like?”

“Like that.” He turned and nodded in my direction.

“Well good for lesbians, for they are clearly the most beautiful and stylish women on the planet.” I retorted “ I don’t  like the way you pigeon hole people Brendon, we have discussed this and it’s wrong.”

“Whatever  fam.” He said turning on his screens and loading World Of Warcraft, League of Legends and Facebook simultaneously.

“ How would you like it if someone said -You look autistic or you must be like Rainman?”

“What?  Who’s Rainman?” He asked.

“Never mind.  The point is that you’re not and you are an individual.  That’s how you should treat everyone.”  I pressed. 

“ Mother, I really don’t care what people think of me, so can you please desist from nagging like a fishwife and leave me to my guild.”  He sat down,  put on his noise reduction headphones and began to type and skype to his warrior friends.

I left him to go and make dinner and hoped that every time I corrected him it would eventually get through.

“Your hair looks lovely.” said Bryony who had appeared in her ‘Girl Power’ onesy. She was beautiful.  Frighteningly so.  Although only 14 she looked about 18 and stood at 5’7 with a figure that belonged in glossy magazines.

“Thank you, angel”  I hugged her tight.  I was mindful to give her as much attention as possible since Brendon demanded the majority of it. 

We cooked lasagne together and chatted about boys and homework and Justin Bieber.  I was very careful to remain positive on the latter despite thinking he was a precious little diva.

I served the portions of lasagne and poured myself a well deserved  rioja as I spent the next three minutes removing every trace of mushroom from Brendons dinner.  He hated them passionately and if one was to be present on his plate, the whole lot would have been ditched.

“Bren, your dinners ready!” Shouted Bryony as she set the table with knives and forks.
Brendon was a world away. A virtual, sword wielding, spell making world away.

“ What the fuck are you doing man? You noob, Tom!  Focus Katarina...I’m going in...have you got ult?...” He was shouting directions to his team members.

I sighed and wandered through to his room and tapped him on the shoulder.


He pulled his headphones to one side.  “You’ll have to bring it here I’m in an instance.  Thanks Mommy, I love you, you’re the best.”  He returned to his virtual world and I brought his dinner to the Starship Enterprise.

Once we had eaten  Bryony scurried away to BBM and snapchat her friends whilst I slumped on the sofa with my ipad and some background TV.

I turned on the word game on my tablet.  I’d been playing this online scrabble game for a good year, as and when I got a minute. I found it kept me distracted from my bleak reality.  I had a few friends on there, a nice bunch,  mostly from the States since I tended to play in the evening or when I couldn’t sleep at night.  I only had a few games so I decided to get another opponent as the others didn’t seem to be in speedy mode.

I pressed random play and a game appeared. My new opponent was called ‘The Voice’

S P T G E O D were my letters.  Despot, I could play despot.  How wildly appropriate.

sophisticated played Despot for 12 points. My word appeared on the virtual board with a musical tring.

After one glass of wine and an hour of the history channel my body was giving up the will to function and the soft downs of my huge empty bed were beckoning. 

“Brendon, it’s 11 pm you should go to bed now it’s school tomorrow.”  I stood at his side yawning again and again.

“I’m not going - it’s French and I hate French”  He replied.  “The only good thing about it is my teachers fit and has an awesome pair of... you know,  she has a very pleasant personality Mother!” he said with a wicked grin.
I heard the cackle of pubescent boys through the skype channel at the thought of Miss Frenchy’s upper assets.

“You’re going.” I insisted. “Besides, I’m coming in for your weekly review with Mrs  Armitage in the morning.”

“Oh God,” he moaned “Another wasted hour of my life.”

I slipped into the sheets of my bed and shivered.   I reached down for  my hairdryer where it had been tossed to the floor after drying my lesbian haircut earlier and turned it on inside the bed to warm it up.  As I went  to switch off my side lamp my mobile phone pinged.  I sighed, hoping I wasn’t going to have to enter into some lengthy texting session with someone.  I was tired and in need of that ethereal paradise called dreamland.  I peered at the screen of my phone. It was a notification from my word game to say someone had played.
The Voice had left me a chat message.  They hadn’t played a word yet just left a message.  I opened the little green chat bubble and read:

The Voice:  Despot. Is that the best you can do?