A small chat between Ace and his mother (Short Story)

     The opened window allowed a gentle draft to spread inside of Ace’s room and the light from within peered out. The gaping square allowed the sound of crickets twittering and the dense rustling leaves to drift inside. A record spun lazily, more static than music crackling from its shy speaker. Fussing with the collar of his shirt, Ace stood for the fifth time in front of the stretched mirror that leaned against his green wallpaper, reflecting a warped version of his body.

     He had attempted four outfits, all of which were too tight, too forward, or too queer. Now he stood with a swirl of frustration growing in his chest, looking at his final option. A slim collared shirt tucked into even slimmer slacks that flared generously at his heels. He turned to see his frame from the side. The outfit hugged his body, displaying the dip of his spine and the noticeable flat backside that he had. His arms looked far too long and far too thin. He put them at his sides to examine them, only to immediately cross them to rid the sight of them.

     He cocked his head to flip his curled hair off of his shoulder, then reached to place it back again. It looked too full, too blocky. He didn't like the way it sat on his shoulders, he looked like a woman with a frizzed bob cut. He could cut it, but that wouldn't be any good either, he’d look how he did all of highschool. His ears were too big to have short hair, they stuck out noticeably. Better to keep his hair long to hide them.

     Gene had grown so thick and full. His shoulders had broadened, his chest deepened, and his ass curved outwards rather than remaining a straight wooden board like Ace. Gene should be wearing this, the disco look was far more attractive on men like him.

     Running his hands down his face, Ace stepped away from the mirror, letting out a long sigh as he sat on the edge of his bed to slip on his shoes.

     Last time he went out, he regretted dressing so casually. Everyone had been dressed like this with the flared collars and tight bell bottoms. He had specifically taken notes as to be prepared this time around, he shouldn't be a coward. After zipping up the sides of his short platforms, he placed the spinning record back into its case, flicked off the light, and slipped into the hallway.

     The framed pictures of mother and Michael watched as he passed by. Mother at an ice cream parlor, mother and Michael at a baseball game, Michael holding his first trophy, mother having a picnic, and the family picture.

     Ace ran his hands against his sleek pants, pressing his palms into them as he rubbed in hopes to make his hands less clammy before leaving. He passed the empty living room with yellow tainted wallpaper and ceramic little kitten statues scattered about. His heels clicked on tile as he entered the kitchen, the sink soon lighting up with rushing water as he turned the handle. Better to wash his hands with cold water rather than just wipe them on his pants.

     “What's all this you’re wearing?” His mother croaked.

     Ace felt his heart sink. The bundled chords that were tangled in his chest began to twist, sending a sting up to his throat. Mother had yet to leave for her book club. She was supposed to leave. Why was she here?

     “Something I saw some other boys wearing.” Ace said, drying his hands on the nearby hand towel.

     “Oh- haha I’ve seen all the magazines. It’s ridiculous.” She chuckled, taking in a slow breath of her cigarette. Her voice had cracked through the years, turned harsh and rough from the tobacco. “I guess I just worry you’ll get mistaken for a transvestite, Aiden. I don't want you coming home crying again. I can hear whenever you’re hurting in there sweetheart. I really think more light in that little cave would do you some good.”

     “Okay.” Ace muttered with a nod, now leaning against the counter as though waiting to be excused.

      “It’s not good for you- I had a roommate like that in college and she was just miserable. She never did anything you know, I just don't want you ending up like her. Oh- speaking of which Aiden, did you talk to Gene about that diner job?”

     “Not yet.”

     “Oh… Okay, well that's a good opportunity. You’re not really doing anything right now. Maybe working will help that boney figure of yours.”

     “Yea.”

     The twisting in Ace’s chest tightened, his throat feeling a strained swell begin to build. He swallowed, glancing up at his mother who stared intently back at him. Ace’s heart jumped and his eyes obediently fell back to the tile. She had noticed the swallow.

     “Did you want a haircut? I told you my friend-Donna from the book club- can do it for you. She says she can straighten out those stubborn coils.”

     “Alright.”

     “So do you want me to talk to her?”

     “Well- uh… I don't know, I’m kind of just letting it grow out.”

     “... Why do I even try to help.” She sighed, shifting in her seat, “You boys make me feel crazy you know, you should just put me in the looney bin. A cookey old lady all on her own.” She took a sip of her orange juice that had been sitting on the table, “What's that?”

     Ace felt a sting shoot through his chest up to his throat. What was what? He looked down at himself, feeling a burn of dread swirl inside of him as he noticed his exposed chest. He had purposefully unbuttoned his shirt three buttons down. Only now did he feel how bare his skin was.

     “Oh- whoops.” He muttered, reaching up to fix himself.

     “Wait, hold on. Come here Aiden, stop it. Come here, let me see.”

     Ace hesitated before he began to approach. His shoes clacked with each step, and the slow breathing from his mother got louder as he neared. She reached up for him, pulling him to lean down towards her.

     “Do you have chest hair? I didn't know you grew any chest hair.”

     “Oh… Yea.”

     “When did you grow this?”

     “I'm not sure.”

     “Why does it look like that? Haha, I’ve never seen it look like that. I have never seen any man who has chest hair like this, is it like that everywhere else?”

     “Yea.”

     “huh, how odd. Haha.”

     She leaned back, releasing him. Ace straightened, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest.

     “Okay,” She sighed, “Well, you can run off with that farm boy now and leave me all alone to turn into a crazy old lady.”

     “I can stay home if you want.”

     “No no, you can just go, Aiden.”

     “Alright.”

     Ace swallowed thickly again as he walked from the kitchen back to the living room. He could feel the fabric hugging tight around his waist, tight around his thighs, tight around his ass, and tight around his boney knees.

     Gene was leaned up against his car by the sidewalk waiting patiently for Ace as he always did. The cigarette he was lighting brought warmth to his face in the darkness. He dressed in a maroon and tan flannel tucked into corduroys that hugged his waist comfortably. Over top, he had his father’s brown leather jacket.

     “What are you wearing?” Ace questioned with a tinge of worry.

     “My clothes.” Gene answered plainly, looking down at himself.

     That was the problem. He looked so casual. Ace was dressed in a flashy get up while Gene was dressed for handy work, and he looked good in it too.

     “Oh… Is that what you're going in?”

     “Mhm. You want me to change?”

     “No- it's okay. Sorry, you look great.”

     Gene’s welcoming hand reached for the side of Ace’s face. Despite his desire to lean in and press his cheek into the familiar palm, Ace glanced back to his home, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. Best not be so affectionate here.

Giving Gene a soft expression, he stepped back.