[ This counts as two solos: 2,018 words. ]

Even though Bo had an apartment close to Sovereign Heights, he still ate meals at his mom’s house 4-5 times a week. Sometimes breakfast, sometimes lunch, sometimes dinner -- always unannounced. His mother had his same free spirit and was overjoyed each time her only son showed up on her doorstep.

On this particular Sunday morning, Bo had fallen asleep after a party on the beach and just so happened to be within walking distance of the beach-adjacent suburb where his mother had a house. He dumped sand out of his pockets, found his wallet balanced on the top of a seashell-covered sandcastle, and set out toward the little cottage decked out in hanging lights and windchimes at the corner of Beach Way and Shell Lane. It was the kind of kitschy streetnames that attracted his mother from a mile away when she had first moved back to Destiny City.

Bo raked a hand through his mussed hair and snatched the hidden spare key from a Buddha carving beside a potted plant and a hanging collage of sea glass and dried flowers. He pulled the screen door open and let himself inside, slipping off his flip-flops and leaving them by the door. It was just before 7AM, but his mother was always earlier to rise. She loved doing yoga in the backyard as the sun rose.

Passing by framed photos of the family and tiny artistic prints created by his mother, Bo could feel his spirits rising long before he turned in to the kitchen. His mother was there, her gray-blonde hair pinned up in a loose bun at the back of her head. She was barefoot, wearing a pale green sarong, a smattering of bracelets, and no makeup. At the sound of someone approaching, Laurel turned her head to the side, soft blue eyes igniting when she saw her baby boy filling the doorway with his massively tall frame.

“Good morning, Bodhidharma,” his mother said, sing-songing his name. Granted, Bodhi was his legal name, but Laurel was intent on referring to him by the Buddhist-inspired name that she had hoped to call him. He found it endearing and always grinned a little wider to hear it.

Bo stepped forward and draped his arm over his mother’s shoulder. “Morning, Moms -- you look radiant, as ever. How are the chakras?” With his other arm, he picked up a piece of toast spread with jam from her plate and took a bite, scattering crumbs on her shoulder.

“Don’t use that charm on me,” Laurel quipped, swatting at his arm and scooting out from under it. “I’m too old to fall for the tricks of a young man.”

Leaning up against the counter, Bo took another messy bite of toast. His eyes roamed to the stove where grits and shrimp sizzled. Shrimp? A knowing smile crossed his lips. “Dearest father, wherever she has hidden you, reveal yourself! We both know Laurel does not eat shrimp.” Bright blue eyes moved to his mother, alight with amusement.

The back door creaked open, and his father, Todd, stepped inside, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of boxers. “Hey, son, I was just looking at the drainage on the fountain. You know how your mother hates tinkering with mechanics. She was just making me breakfast as...” His voice trailed off.

“A thank you,” Laurel finished.

“Yes, a thank you.”

Bo finished his toast and then folded his arms across his chest. “So how are Mom’s pipes?” he asked, tilting his head to one side.

Laurel tsked and swatted her son again. “Bodhi, you are so suspicious. Todd was fixing the fountain. I made shrimp and grits. And if you play nice, you can have some too.” With that, she was sweeping along toward the counter, snatching another mug down from a shelf. “I’m brewing up some jasmine oolong, Bodhi-honey -- your favorite!” Before the offer could be rejected, two fat tea bags were plopped into mismatched china and then covered in steaming water.

Todd and Laurel Hanley had been divorced since Bo was seven, but they had been “secretly” seeing each other for more or less all the years after that. Bo was happy to play along with it. It made them happy so he was happy. But lately, it had gotten ridiculous. His father spent almost every night at his mother’s house. There were men’s clothes in her closet. Two toothbrushes in the bathroom. And yet they insisted on pretending they weren’t madly in love with each other. If they wanted to get married again, Bo would be all for it, but all of this sneaking around seemed rather childish to him -- in the best possible way.

“Well, Father, may I suggest doing yardwork with pants on in the future? The neighbors will talk,” Bo said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Sound advice, Todd,” Laurel added.

“With the two of you giving me so much advice, why do I even need a psychiatrist?” he said, sliding into the plush bench in the breakfast nook.

Laurel popped four more pieces of toast into the toaster and then brought a jar of jelly to the table, along with a mug of tea for the whole family. Crossing back to the stove, she poked at the shrimp and grits. “I told you, Todd. Call off the quack. All you need is meditation. Heal your spirit, and your troubles will float away.” She pointed at him with the spatula and then went back to the stove.

Bo’s father just met eyes with his son and shook his head. “So, boy-o, how is school? Are you going to graduate out of Sovereign and transfer to DCU already or what?”

Laurel guffawed. “Todd, come now. Bodhi will learn at his own pace. He knows how long he needs to stay there.” She turned to smile warmly at him. “Take all the time your journey requires, sweet boy.” Then she was back to the stove.

“If I pass everything this year, I’ll have my AA,” Bo said. “That’s the plan for now -- but I’m just taking it easy.”

“You are only young once,” Laurel said, nodding.

Todd did not look as impressed. “And the mistakes of youth can poison your future. I’m all for your happiness, Bo, but you have to have a career. Your mother and I won’t always be here to feed you when you need a free meal.” He gave his son a stern look over his glasses and then lifted his mug of tea.

This sounded a lot like Serious Talk. Bo did not care for Serious Talk. He tapped out a rhythm on the table for a few seconds and then pulled his mug of tea closer to his body. “The tea is extra soothing this morning, Moms. Are you brewing with karma?”

His mother turned over her shoulder and winked. “Always.” Then back to the stove.

Unfortunately, Todd was not having it. He cared about his son, and he was probably the only person in the room who also cared about financial success. Sure, he loved a hippie of a woman, but he was still a successful investment banker. He had high hopes that Bo might follow in his more logical footsteps. To date, that had not exactly come to fruition. “Bo, focus,” he chided. “We are talking about your future here. Where do you see yourself in the next five years?”

“Drinking yet another delicious cup of jasmine oolong,” Bo replied.

“Bo, come on now. I am trying to talk about something that is important.”

“Tea is important.”

“Damnit, your future is important, son.”

This was getting too serious, too fast. He was still vaguely hungover and had no patience for hard talks. He avoided them, always had. Punishing Bo as a child for misbehavior -- which never really happened on Laurel’s watch anyway -- usually required tracking him through the alleys and beaches until he could no longer escape. At 22, he still tried the same tactic.

Pushing back from the table, Bo got to his feet. “Thanks for the tea and toast, but I have class later on,” he said, downing the last of the tea.

“It’s Sunday, Bodhi,” his mother said. “Please, stay. I haven’t seen you since Monday.”

“It’s a tough class. Preparation starts early.”

As Bo tried to snake around his mother to the doorway, his father stood abruptly, preventing his escape. “Hey now, buddy, you can’t hide from this conversation. I’m your father. I love you and care about your future. The least you can do is have an honest conversation with me about it. You are 22. Most kids your age are graduating college and going into a job or grad school. Hell, at your age, I had already married your mom and racked up a year’s worth of retirement. I don’t think it’s asking too much for you to just talk to me about what your plans are.” His hands had risen up to block Bo from leaving, but now they eased back down to his sides. “Even if you don’t know what you are going to do, at least tell me that. Then I can help you.” A softness seeped into his father’s voice. Todd loved Bo dearly. He just wanted what was best for his Bo.

Now Bo was trapped. He had expected to come to his mom’s house for a free meal and some pleasant conversation about how beautiful the beach was and whatever new kind of yoga Laurel was obsessed with that day. Instead, he got his father trying to talk about the Future -- with a capital ‘F.’ This was not the kind of thinking that Bo liked to do. There was so many horrible things in life. He liked to confront them by... not confronting them. He ran away, distracted himself, did the avoid-dance. It worked for him in almost every situation, but his father knew him too well. He could see what Bo was trying to do. And he had no intention of letting him get away with it.

But how do you tell your father that your true calling is to protect a princess who has existed as long as time and space? How could he express that he had died, been reborn, and died countless times? Was it possible to describe the bounty of space, the connection that lived in the heart of each Zodiac? School seemed less important when the fate of the universe was hanging in the balance. Granted, Bo was more concerned with the well-being of one universe member: Princess Chronos. If he could tell his parents about it, he would. But that wasn’t possible. It was difficult enough to keep them out of the loop on it now. If they pressed him too hard about his future, he would eventually crack and spill all the secrets of the senshi. Then what would happen? He could hardly picture them understanding it, not really.

Bo stared at his father for a long time. He didn’t have the capacity to handle this situation, not the way his father wanted him too. Just past Todd, Laurel had stopped cooking the shrimp and grits and was staring at them both, her eyes filled with uncharacteristic worry. They were both so worried about him. It sang out of them.

This was it. This was the moment where they would have a hard talk.

The toasted dinged, popping up four crispy pieces of bread. “I love you both too, gotta go,” Bo said quickly. He took a step backward and slipped out the side door before either could object. Leaving through the fence, he kept up his pace, nearly jogging, just in case they tried to follow him. There was nothing certain about Bo’s future, nothing except Princess Chronos. It was a task for him to carry in his own heart, and he doubted he would ever be able to share it with his parents.

Sure, he could hide forever -- but this was Bo. He was damn sure going to try.