Chapter 1

The pleasant scent of baking cookies wafted from the oven, waking Decker from a daydream. He flicked on the oven light and peeked through the oven window. Wait until Mom sees this, he thought gleefully.

Humming a cheery tune, he pulled out his batch of chocolate chip treats and left the baking tin to cool on the living room coffee table. At least something went right today, he thought, and settled back into his phone.

Before long, Mom made her appearance. He could hear her barking into her phone and fumbling with keys on the front porch. His timing had been perfect.

The front lock clicked and the door burst open, followed by his mother Suzanne --a whirlwind of legal pads, laptop cases, and long, gesticulating arms. Overloaded as always, she pinched her phone between her shoulder and cheek, a stream of workplace babble poured from her mouth.

“And then the developers have a look and suddenly it can’t be done! We’ve had our specs settled since the fifth! If they need more time they’ll have to come up with it themselves...”

Decker rolled his eyes and felt heat in his cheeks as a familiar wave of disappointment overtook him. Mom’s work arguments always went on forever, and it was impossible to get her to focus on anything until they finished. I can’t believe I skipped Adventure Time for this. Gradually he roused himself and stood, psyching himself up to fight the losing battle for her attention.

Mom blew into the living room, unceremoniously dumped her work papers onto the coffee table, and plopped onto the couch. Her work conversation didn’t seem to be going well, but at least it was burbling to an end.

“That’s on engineering Lisa, not me. Let’s put a pin in this and circle back tomorrow? Bye.” Sweet silence descended upon the room.

Shifting from foot to foot, Decker went from lamely waiting for her to finish her call to lamely waiting for her to look up from her phone. He willed her to notice the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies cooling next to her on the coffee table.

“Mom! Mo-om?! Check out the table.”

Nothing.

“Mom?”

“Ssssshht!”

Decker peeked over the kitchen counter into the living room. He could see his mother’s long gangly frame slung along the couch, her head resting on the padded armrest. Mom’s battle with work had moved to text--the sound of her tapping thumbs filled the room.

Waiting for his mother to finish, Decker couldn’t help but notice her outfit. Mom was more dressy than usual today--hair in a loose bun, a nice yellow blouse, and a tight brown blazer that reminded him of the working women he saw on old tv shows when he was younger.

His position also gave him an easy look down her top: he tried and failed not to notice how well her bony elbows and tight blouse framed her cleavage. Mom probably had a pretty ample chest (not that he’d ever noticed--gross!), and the few blouse buttons she’d left open partially revealed a deep cleft between her pale boobs. It didn’t help that she was holding her phone over her head and texting frantically. Staring at her breasts, Decker was briefly mesmerized by a dancing sliver of white--the lacy part of her bra top jiggling.

He was enjoying the show a bit too much when Suzanne finished messaging and set her phone down with an exhausted sigh, snapping her son out of his entranced peeping.

“Decky, honey? What were you saying?”

“I made you something!”

“What did you make me, sweetheart?”

“Check it out mom, look!”

Suzanne pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled her frustration up to the ceiling.

“Mommy doesn’t have time for guessing games today, honey. Please, just tell me what it is?”

Like an article he’d read too many times, it was obvious where this was going: Pleasant evening murdered by bad day at work, read more on A6. Cheery playfulness had gotten him nowhere, it was time for the direct approach.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a little kid! Look!” Decker strode over to the coffee table, peeled a cookie off the baking sheet, and held it out to her. Suzanne regarded her homecoming gift with suspicion, and her hands stayed at her sides. Decker waited. Seconds passed, and Suzanne still made no move to accept the cookie. Decker felt like he’d brought a pair of old socks to show and tell.

“Tada.” he offered, weakly.

Suzanne broke the impasse by making a face.

“Now honey, you know I’m gluten free.”

Jeez Louise, who had peed in her corn flakes? Decker gritted his teeth, and played his trump card.

“Don’t worry Mom, they’re GF cookies! Look!”

He fetched the box of mix from the kitchen table and shook it at her. While reading it’s assurances, Suzanne peeled her own fresh cookie off the baking sheet and nibbled.

“Wow-wow sweetheart--these are great!” she smiled at him, and Decker exhaled sharply. Having finally overcome her defenses, he couldn’t help but smile.

“To what do I owe these treasures, mister?”

“Well it’s just that ... You’re the best mom in the world and you work so hard and--”

“Decker sweetie, boys your age are terrible liars. Now out with it...”

No time to chicken out now.

“There was a girl. Ah, at. school.”

Attempting to say her name brought him right back to that horrible conversation at the lunch table. Decker’s breathing hitched and he hung his head. After that conversation, the truth was he’d wanted a girl (any girl!) to smile for him and be happy to see him, and pay attention to him. Even if that girl was his boring old Mom.

Rather than say all that, however, he chickened out.

“I had a bad day is all--and I thought I’d make cookies at home, try to concentrate.”

“Unh huh ... Bad day, how?”

At least, that’s what he expected. He silently waited for the obvious follow-up question.

It never came. Looking up from his shoes, Decker could see his mother’s attention sliding back to her phone on the table. With the evening’s last chance at honest-to-God parental support slipping away he pressed on.

“This girl. She, ah.” He stared at his shoes again, briefly reliving the conversation.

“ ... she and I are through.”

He raised his head just in time to see the dam break. Mom was back on her phone, thumb scrolling away.

When he’d been much younger he’d fallen on the playground and run to her crying. He’d expected Mommy to “kiss it better”, or something, anything. “That’s the world for you, Decky.” she’d said with a knowing chuckle. Even as a child he’d recognized how callous that response had been. It stunned him enough that he’d stopped crying and felt embarrassed that he’d run to her for comfort in the first place. Nearly a decade later and he’d never stopped making the same mistake.

He felt a full blown temper tantrum bubbling up, and was just about to give in to his frustration when he noticed it.

Someone had written on the cookie sheet, beneath where one of the cookies had been peeled off. Not written exactly, more like inscribed in a fancy cursive print.

“No way, Jose”, Decker mumbled to himself.

Suzanne, still laying on the couch and lost in her phone, didn’t notice her son’s surprised murmur, nor the way he peered down at the cookie sheet. Decker got down on his knees and squinted at what was clearly a message.

Every young man has lots of needs,

Insensible needs, unconsciously met.

He couldn’t figure out how it could have gotten there--the aluminum sheet had been smooth when he’d started baking. Kneeling by the coffee table, Decker looked up from the mysterious message. He blankly stared at the couch while he turned the poem over and over in his mind.

Mom was still in office mode, intently scrolling on her phone with one hand, nibbling Decker’s cookie with the other.