#SOTUS Continued: Book Two A BoysLove Tale

Love Is A Choice

Knott's Father POV

My son is weaving his way through the aisle at the store, looking for whatever his mother put on a list I begged from her. I wonder when he is going to realize it is a bunch of nothing.

The first time Knott came home to talk to us about the fact that he is dating a guy, I was going to send him to the US. I was determined to get him as far away from that kid as humanly possible. But I let my wife make me hesitate, and now I am doing it again.

FLASHBACK:

"Mom," I shout, slamming the door, "Where are you?"

I stand in the entry and wait for her reply and get none.

"Mother," I yell again as I walk into the kitchen. I can see the remains of her breakfast on the table. Where can she be? "Mother!"

"Son!" She shouts, and I turn around to see her standing on the porch with a pot in her hand. "Who taught you to call your mother like that?" She turns and walks out of view.

"Mom, I need to talk to you," I follow her out onto the porch. "And what are you doing?"

"You can talk here," She tells me, setting the pot on the table," And I would think it was apparent. I am repotting that plant."

"Don't you have people for that?" I ask, taking a seat at the table.

"Yes, I do," Mom smiles at me, "But I like doing this." She stops and looks at me, "What did you do to upset your wife now?"

"I did not upset my wife," I grumble.

"Then why are you here," Mom smirks at me.

"Knott is coming this weekend," I tell her.

"Oh," She stops, "Tell him to drop by. Why is he coming?"

"I asked him to bring who he is dating so we can meet them," I explain. My mom sits in the chair beside me.

"He is dating someone?" My mom inquires, "Is it serious?"

"It is serious," I confirm. I don't, however, tell my mom that it is a boy.

"You don't like them," My mom says with a grin. "And here I thought my wishes would never come true."

"Wishes?" I am confused like I always am when I talk with my mom.

"The one I made when you got married," Mom chuckles, going back to potting the plant.

"What did you wish on me?" I ask.

"That you would have a son just like I did and then some," Mom remarks, not looking at me. "I thought Knott would never be anything but obedient. I can't believe that straight-arrow could do anything to disappoint you."

My mom watches me open and close my mouth with a smirk. Straight might be the last thing you can use to describe my son.

"What are you going to do?" Mom goes back to her plant. She is obviously enjoying my predicament.

"I was going to send him to the US," I tell her.

"Doesn't he only have a year left?" She frowns at me."Would you do that to him?"

"No," I mumble, "But he is making the wrong choice." My mom laughs at me. "What is so funny, Mom?"

"Because those words remind me of your dad," Mom looks over at me. "And me, for that matter."

"Why would you say that?" I ask.

"Do you have selective memory, or have you just lost your mind?" Mom puts the small shovel down. "Do you not remember your dad and I saying the same thing to you when you brought home your wife?"