Bates

24

   Norman walked his mother back to the house.

   A spread of sheets was already laying on the couch. "Are you sure you don't want to take my bed?" he asked again. "I don't mind."

   She smiled gratefully at him. "Don't be silly, Norman. You're too lanky to try sleeping on this thing." He sat down beside her. Her gaze flitted up the stairs to where her husband must've been laying. I should go check on him, she thought.

   Norman went to get a drink, and only then did she start to climb the stairs up to their bedroom. It was greatly furnished, yet also rather dusty. "You alright up here?" she asked, coming in to find him sitting at the window, his expression stony. Her heart leapt as she realized what he might have seen.

   "Who was that?" he asked, turning his wheelchair around to face his wife.

   She sighed. "My brother, Caleb. I don't know how he found me here."

   "You didn't invite him in," Alex noted swiftly.

   Norma shrugged. "We've always fought. He's not really good company for the boys anyways," she told him, leaning forward to leave a kiss on his lips. She feared that he already knew she was lying, yet if he did, he didn't say anything about it.

   "I love you."

   She smiled, then volunteered to wheel him towards the bed. "Sure, why not?" he chimed, being surprisingly chipper for someone with one eye and a busted leg.

   Norma helped him into the bed, and he winced the entire time. She felt a little guilty, although she knew there wasn't much she could do to help. "You're a mess," she commented, feeling sorry for him. "You really need my help, don't you, Mr. Tough Guy?" she teased. He didn't laugh, just stared at her, presumably as if she'd just crossed a line. Her smiled faded as she watched him slowly start to drift into sleep.

   "You make me miss my mother," he admitted.

   She chuckled a little. "What's that supposed to mean?"

   "I guess I just-- thought she'd be around longer, you know, to take care of me. It's what Moms do, you know?"

   Her eyes were misted over. "We've never talked about your mother before..."

   "Yeah, well, she's been dead for twenty-two years. Committed suicide," he admitted, looking slightly sheepish.

   She found herself speaking past a lump in her throat, and sighed in an effort to get the words out. "When I first moved here, I mentioned to Joyce how you were always so serious. How you never really smiled. She told me a little of what happened to your mother. I never said anything because I know how hard it must be for you to have to carry that with her memory."

   "That's my sad story," he said, making little eye contact with her.

   Norma laid down beside him for a moment, placing her head on his chest. "I'm sorry, Alex. Life is hard, isn't it?" she mused.

   "Sometimes."

   They both gave the other a great big smile. Being able to keep her eyes on him made her feel warm and fuzzy, similar to things she felt when she first confided in his handsome, surprisingly charming being. Her loving gaze faultered. Her smile faded. I'm lying to him. That's not really fair, her eyes lost their sparkle as she felt his eyes pierce her soul, He knows, she thought to herself still. He shifted a little, and his good hand searched for one of hers. He found it, and lifted it closer towards him, examining those fingers that so gently cared for him for so long now. His hand wandered up her arm, feeling the robe that she was wearing. The hairs on her arms and neck went haywire at his touch. It was as if her body was engulfed in comfortable static when he touched her. His arm wrapped around her back, pulling her slowly onto him, forcing her lips onto his.

   Norma pulled away, then eased the covers up on her husband's body. "I-- I'm not feeling so good...I don't think--"

   "You're beautiful, Norma Bates," he called, watching her as she walked away.

   She smiled, shaking her head, then came back over to him, kissing his cheek. She sat down again. "Alex," she bit her lip, "If we have a girl, I think I want to call her Theresa," she paused, then added hastily, "But only if it's okay with you. I don't want to use it if it will hurt you."

   He gave a faint smile. "I think she would've loved it, that's all that matters."

   "I love you, Alex. Goodnight."

   "Goodnight, Babe."

   Norma was halfways down the stairs when she heard a familiar tune wafting from the piano. Her skin started to crawl, and she fought the urge to yell at Norman to stop. He started to sing, and her head pounded. His words were deep, yet his expression was hollow and lifeless. Still, she stopped at the end of the stairs and listened, hoping he did not see the expression on his face. The tune was so dreadfully sad that she could hardly form a thought besides that of sorrow. His fingers trembled on the piano, and he faltered, crying.

   "Norman, what was that?"

   He turned to her with a tear-filled yet blank gaze. "I don't remember. I don't even remember where I learned it." He almost certainly noticed her frightened expression, for he stood from the piano's bench. "I love you, Mother. Goodnight." She watched as he walked up the stairs, thinking it strange that he hadn't even kissed her goodnight.

   "Okay, Norman. Goodnight. Sleep well," she told him, before cutting out the light and laying down to sleep.

~                                                                                                                                                                                                  ~

   Norman Bates stood over her petite figure. His hands longed to feel her blonde hair against them, her baby-soft skin called to his own crawling skin, and he jerked away from her. For a moment, he though he woke her up, yet her chest rose and fell slowly with every breath.

   He devised the plan. Now, if he only had the courage to go through with it.