Expected

"Good Morning," he sheepishly says.
"Morning. Would you like some tea?"
Yesterday is over.
Today is here.
It's easy for her to forgive.
Without saying a word.
She figures it's best to forget.
Yesterday's mishap isn't something to hang on to.
To drag out.
It's over.
Today starts anew.
"Yeah. I want tea. Thanks, Mom."
"I'm making oatmeal. Want some?"
"Yeah. Sure." He seems relieved she didn't bring up yesterday's bitch-fest.
They eat breakfast, together.
They watch a little TV.

Then she cleans.
He plays video games.

After a bit, she makes lunch.
"Before you eat, I need you to pick up your soccer net. Take it apart, or drag it to the back yard."
"Alright," he quietly says as he opens the front door.
"Thanks," she tells him, her voice exiting through the kitchen window.
She watches him.
Her son.
He's a good kid.
Just growing.
Trying to find his own grounding.
Wants some independence.
Soon enough, he will have it.
She knows.
"You want juice or milk with your lunch?"
"Juice," he says as he walks back into the house.
Washes his hands.
"Thanks, Mom."
"How does it taste?"
"It's good."
She smiles.

"Later, this evening I need to go out. Do a few things. Wanna go?" she asks him.
"Mmmmm...."
"We can rent a movie."
"Can we get something for dinner? To bring home? Eat while we watch?"
"That sounds good. Sure."
They go to Rite Aid.
To develop photos of her students.
They go to Stater Bros.
To rent two movies from RedBox.
"Where would you like to go to get food?" she asks.
She always lets him decide.
Why not?
It's really his thing, not hers, to pick places.
She'll go anywhere.
She doesn't mind.
"Why do I have to decide? I always have to decide," he questions.
"Oh. Well, every time I mention a place you seem to give me a reason why we shouldn't go there. So, I figured it's easier to just let you chose," she answers.
"That's true," he smiles; sort of laughs.
"How about McDonald's?" he decides.
"Oh, yeah. A Filet-a-Fish sounds pretty good. And fries. A shake, too," she tells him.
"I want Chicken Selects," he states.
She's not surprised.
They don't go out to fast-food joints too often; but when they do, often enough it's Mickey D's.
The Selects are always his top choice.
Bagged food on his lap, she drives home.
She pulls into the driveway.
Not all the way.
Enough so that he can let himself out, before she backs completely in, next to her daughter's car.
He needs the extra space to open the passenger-side door wide open.
He gently closes the door.
She backs in.
He waits by the front door.
She turns off the car.
Gets out.
Walks across the grass.
Unlocks the front door.
Opens and closes it carefully.
No kitchen table tonight.
They both plop down on the couch.
Watch a funny movie.
Eat fattening food and slurp down a cold drink.
The company is good.
For both of them.