The guest room

"Is the guest room ready?"

"Stop calling it the guest room, they're not guests."

"Yes they are. It's a bed and breakfast, we have guests."

"They're paying you to stay in our house."

"Exactly. That's what a guest is."

"I don't even want to do this, it's so stupid."

"Stupid enough to help your student loan payment."

Charlie didn't have a response, and that pissed him off so bad. His mother went back into the kitchen by the time he thought of one.

"The towels are still wet."

It's probably better that she left the room before he said that.

The McConnells arrived promptly three minutes late for their 7 o'clock check-in, and Barbara delighted in charging them the $25 late fee, but she didn't break the news to them yet. Rather, she mentally added it to their tab. She wouldn't forget. She wouldn't. (And she didn't.)

Dinner was awkward. Charlie and Barbara sat alone at a table for twelve with chairs for eight. She had made enchiladas, not great but not bad by any means.

"They're having sex."

"Charlie-"

"They are."

"I know they are." Barbara also knew they wouldn't protest if she added a $50 cleaning fee to her mental tab.

"Are they going to think it's weird that we don't have any other guests?"

"That's not ours to care about."

"Yeah, but isn't it fun to speculate?"

"Speculate?"

"What?"

"That's an awfully big word, Charlie."

Again, he had no idea how to respond to that. But he didn't need to. His mother went on, "You've always been a busybody. Since you were three. For a while, we just assumed you were gay. But then your father found your magazine..."

"What magazine?"

"Did you have more than one type of magazine in your room when you were 14?"

He felt frozen. At this point, he was beyond embarrassment, he had caught his mother in much more compromising positions than the one he figured he was technically "caught" in right now. But he just felt confused.

His mother had changed a lot since his father died. Not drastic, or at least not sudden. He wasn't sure the right word for it. He felt coldness to and from her, but he never considered it. He was too busy thinking that he was thinking about himself.