RING. RING. RING. RING.

A large hand wrapped itself around the loudly ringing cellphone, shrouding the soft glow that had illuminated the entire bedroom. Tag brought the phone to his ear, the other half his face buried in his pillow as he asked groggily, “Hello?”

“Tag, darling, open up,” an older woman’s voice spoke through the phone. “Its your mother.”

His face rose out of the pillow with a look of bewilderment. He eyed the time on the clock. 2:03AM. He wiped some sleep out his eye and yawned.

“Mom?” he repeated. “What do you mean open up?”

“I’m standing outside your door, waiting for you to let me in,” she said. There was a silence as the son tried to figure out what chain of events could lead to his mother at his door at this hour of the night. “Tag, dear, don’t leave your mother standing outside in the middle of the night. I could be attacked! Heaven knows what sorts of evils lurk in this vile, rotten city. I watch the news. I know what goes on.”

“You watch my show, do you?”

“Oh, please Tag, don’t be ridiculous. Why would I watch your show? I live halfway across the country. I watch the national news, not some cheap local news cycle.”

That was Tag’s mother, ever so proud of her son’s accomplishments.

“Thanks mom. You know, I’m actually pretty successful.”

“Sure you are dear. Now are you going to let me in or not?”

“Yeah,” he said, throwing his feet out of bed and slowly rising up. “Press the button on the callbox. Apartment 19C.”

“Apartment 19C? I thought you lived in a penthouse.”

“No, I live here.”

“Why don’t you live in a penthouse? I thought you said you were successful.”

“I am,” he groaned into the phone as he wrapped a bathrobe around himself, crossed through the living room and to apartment doorway. “Just press the damn button.”

“Don’t be short with me, young man,” the older voice snapped back.

TTZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZTTT.

Tag pressed the button to allow her into the building.

“Come on up,” he said as he hung up the phone, followed by a stress-relieving head banging against the wall. For each second he knew his mother was coming closer and closer to his door, he felt his blood pressure rising. His mother had a special way of getting under his skin, irritating the very core of his persona. He had built up some resistances to those who tried to cut him down in life, but he was utterly defense against any of his mother’s many strikes to his esteem.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Tag opened the door to find his mother standing beside three large suitcases in the hallway. She wore heels, a suit jacket and skirt accompanied with a real fox fur scarf. She faked a smile of excitement as the tiny woman wrapped her thin veiny arms around him for the lightest and quickest of motherly hugs as she whispered into his ear, “You really should be more dressed, you have company over.”

She then scooted past him and into his apartment, tossing the animal carcass accessory onto his ottoman.

“Bring in my bags, will you sweetie?” she asked, and then added: “Be careful with them. They’re Louis Vuitton, so don’t treat them like one of your whores and just toss them around.”

He reluctantly complied, but not without questioning. “Why did you bring bags? And what the hell are you doing here?”

“My house is under renovation and I needed a place to stay, so I thought ‘Why not stay with my Tag?’”

“Why didn’t you think ‘Why don’t I stay in a hotel?’” he repeated in her tone of voice as he closed the apartment door behind him.

“I spent eighteen years raising you and when your mother needs a place to stay for just a few weeks your turn your back on her? Is that how you show your mother you love her?”

“A few weeks?”

“Yes Tag, I’m getting my house renovated not an apartment the size of…this. It is going to take a few weeks. Now are you really going to kick me out to the curb? Do you love me that little?”

“No, no, of course not,” he started. She always managed to lay in the guilt trips to manipulate him. She was a certified pro. “Of course you can stay with me, its just very unexpected.”

“Well I apologize, next time I’ll give you ample notice before I ask for your love.”

“Very funny,” he rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you sleep on the couch tonight, and I’ll look into getting a cot put into Liam’s room for you tomorrow.”

“The couch? A cot? No, I’ll sleep in the master bedroom.”

“What?”

“You can’t possibly expect your frail mother to sleep on a couch, can you? What am I, a college prostitute? I’d break a hip!”

“Fine, just please let me go to sleep, I have work in the morning.”

“Well then you really shouldn’t be up so late dear,” she called as she crossed into his bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Tag flopped onto his couch.

It was going to be a long next few weeks.