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.
“DINNER.”
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?
