The Elusive Son

Vanishing Act: A Son’s Elusive World

Further conversation with her husband became impossible, drowned out by the approaching sound of the scooter, her son’s scooter. The mother yearned for more moments to engage the lad in discussion, to demand an explanation, but it proved elusive. From the moment he walked in, the young man meandered through the house, his bike carrying him away, returning only after dusk. In stark contrast to her husband’s leniency, Susan harboured no blind indulgence for the boy. At times, she felt a stern reprimand could do him good. He pledged punctuality for dinner but consistently eluded them, disappearing with his bike while the family sat ready in the dining room. His inexplicable behaviour left Susan perplexed. She thought her eldest child should not behave like this. The fellow lingered by his grandmother, exchanging pleasantries and sharing food preferences, then abruptly vanishing before sunset.

The father, though puzzled, rationalised, “He’ll be back – must have had a sudden revelation.” When he returned, anger seemed impossible. His amicable demeanour and his companionship as he trailed his mother through the house, elucidating wonders of the world, events, and various subjects, disarmed any brewing frustration. “What’s on the menu today?” he would inquire, delighting at the answer, only to vanish as they prepared to serve him. Sometimes, he lingered, praising his mother’s culinary prowess. Yet, she knew not to repeat the same dish, as he cautioned against it. His unpredictable actions left her bemused. At times, he appeared unexpectedly, declaring, “I’m starving. Give me anything,” prompting the mother to hurriedly feed him before he took off on his bicycle or his father’s scooter, leaving her puzzled.

On this particular day, as the son passed by, the mother detected a faint alcoholic aroma in the air. Disturbed, she wondered if her son was in undesirable company, recalling a neighbour’s mention of him in a group at the junction. Uneasy thoughts plagued her. When her son, leaving a trail of alcohol scent, passed her, she began sniffing, relieved when the scent was absent. Unable to contain her concern one evening, she confronted him, noticing the tobacco stains on his fingers.

“Your shirts smell of tobacco, and your fingers are stained brown”

The young man laughed, revealing, “Oh, that! I’m trying to quit smoking. Your reminders don’t help. How well you remember old scents and smells.”

Perplexed, the mother followed him into the passage, seeking an explanation. The son clarified, “A friend sprayed Old Spice on me.”

“Why would someone spray eau-de-Cologne?”

“They play that sort of joke in the club.”

As the night settled and the house grew quiet, Susan turned to her husband with a troubled look.

“Where does he go every in this sleepy village?” she wondered aloud.

“Just ask him yourself,” he shrugged.

“But he’s always in a hurry. He barely shows his face before he zooms off on his scooter. He won’t stop for a chat. Why did you get him that thing anyway? He’s too young to ride it. None of his friends have one. He’s out of my reach.”

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