Robert, Take Off Your Headphones!

“Knock-knock! Robert, what are you doing? Can I come in? . . . Sorry, my fault. I should have knocked and waited. I need to come in and change your bedsheets, ok?"

“Mm, K.”

“My god! Child open the curtains. It’s like living with a vampire! It’s three in the afternoon. Have you even been to the bathroom yet today? You’ll get a urinary tract infection, look at what happened to your uncle Tony. Remember Uncle Tony?”

"Uh-huh."

“The doctors said it made him go blind. I know, can you believe it? He never went to the toilet. Used to store it all up like a camel. Have you been to the toilet today, Robert?”

“Mm.”

“Uncle Tony had one of those irritable bowel thingies. Dreadful, poor man used to hold on for days. Weeks sometimes. Your father said it was like Niagara Falls when he finally went. Like a fireman’s hose, it was. Poor man. Apparently, so the doctors said, it affected his blood pressure and damaged the back of his eyes. Are you listening, Robert? Your Uncle Tony went blind!”

“Huh?”

“Anyway, let me open the curtains. It’s a beautiful day out. Are you going out today, Robert? I’m sure your friends from college would like to see you. Such lovely lads. What was that boy called you brought round a few weeks back? Marco? Marcus? Anyway, he was a nice lad. Lovely brown eyes.”

“Mum!”

"Can you hear me with those headphones on, Robert? I need you to get off the bed . . . of course you could always give me a hand. I mean, we don't ask you to do anything around the house, and you're getting older now. You should start helping out."

“Yes, mum.”

“Oh Robert, what’s this plate and cup under the bed? That’s gross! There’s things growing on it. Come on, Robert, you’re a young man now. You need to buck up. Your father and I were engaged by twenty, married with a baby by twenty-two.”

“You got married with a baby?”

“No. Robert. I did not get married with a baby. You can stop grinning. That’s not even funny. When are you going to start growing up? We don’t even see you at the dinner table anymore. Your father says we should just let you get on with it. But, well, honey, I miss my little boy. Mummy’s little soldier.”

"Oh, mum."

"Hold the other end of this sheet, Robert. Help me fold it up, will you? You know the other day when you were at college I . . . I came in here to vacuum. And well I—”

“You what?”

“Well, I found something. It was under your bed. Robert, take your headphones off and look at me."

“Really?”

“Robert. This is serious. Take off your headphones and look at me. Are. You. Taking. Drugs?”

“Ha! No.”

“No?! Well, what I found under your bed looked distinctly like drugs to me, young man. Should we try that again? Robert, are you taking drugs? And think carefully about how you answer me. Your father and I have already spoken about this.”

“No.”

“But Robert, I found your stash! Under your bed. You've been caught red-handed. Don't you see? This is how it all starts. I read a story in my Woman’s Weekly magazine yesterday about a boy who lied about his stash to his mum. He’s now serving time for armed robbery. Robert! Did you hear me? He’s in prison and it all started like this. His mum found drugs under his bed.”

“It’s not drugs.”

“Excuse me, young man. I know drugs when I see them.”

“It’s not drugs.”

“Well, you better have a good explanation for what it is because it looked and smelled like drugs to me.”

“It’s just weed.”

“I beg your pardon. Robert, take your headphones off. What did you just say?”

“It’s weed.”

“But . . . Robert . . . Pass me a tissue, will you? I don’t want your father to know I’ve been crying. There’s plenty under your bed. . . Just make sure it’s a clean one. There, that’s better. Now. Robert. Are you referring—by using the term weed—to marijuana?”

“I guess.”

Robert. Take off your headphones and look at me. TAKE OFF YOUR HEADPHONES! I need to breathe. Let me get that window open. Is it hot in here? Are you hot? Is it just me?”

“I’m fine.”

“Give me a minute. Let me just get some fresh air—there, that’s better. Robert. Honey. Your stash. Your weed as you put it. It’s marijuana! It’s an illegal drug.”

“It’s not.”

"Honey it is. It was an illegal drug when I went to college and it's still an illegal drug. Just wait until your father gets home. Boy, have you got some explaining to do. You know your uncle Tony smoked marijuana in high school, and look what happened to him. Poor man, he's got a bladder like a reservoir. He smoked it a lot in high school. That's when all his waterworks problems started. Are you listening, Robert? Do you want to mess up your insides like your uncle Tony? DO YOU?"

“No.”

“Pardon me, young man?”

“No, Guess not.”

“Ok, so here’s what we’re going to do about it. I’ve confiscated your stash and spoken with your father. On this occasion, as long as you give me your word, we’ll say no more about it. Ok?”

“Huh?”

“I said on this occasion—Robert can you hear me?”

“Ay?”

“Robert. Please take off your headphones. Thank you. I said we’ll say no more about it.”

“K. . . Cool.”

“Good. Thank you. I so love our conversations, Robert. I can’t speak to your father the way I speak with you. He never listens, you know—Robert?”

“What?”

"I said your father never listens to me. Not like you do. Mummy's little soldier. Now, I'm cooking your favourite for dinner. Fish finger sandwiches and beans. Would you like me to give you a call when it's ready? Robert?"

“What, mum?”

"Dinner. Would you like me to call you when it's ready?"

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Ok, I’ll just bring it up and leave it outside your door. . . Same as last night.”

“K.”

“Ok, then. Right you are. I’ll just leave you to it then. Ok? Robert?

“WHAT?”

“I said I’ll just leave you to it. Ok?”

“OK! . . . Oh mum?”

“Yes honey?”

“Marijuana.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not drugs.”