Previously on The Otherworlders: With the help of Jake and Aidan, Patrick broke into Headmaster Pierce's office so he could snag the keys and "borrow" the Prius. He's headed back to his tribe's compound to let Stephen's mother know that he'd seen Stephen and wants to see if she knows where he's living.
Old feelings and frustrations emerge when Stephen's mother lets Patrick know just how much damage his relationship with her son has caused. Will Patrick be able to get the information he needs to save his boyfriend?
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Patrick stands outside of a trailer parked at the back of the Si'ahl Shifter compound. This is the place where the families of all those who've been Cast Out of the tribe now live.
He paces nervously in front of the trailer, trying to muster the courage to knock on the door. The last time he was or even talked to Stephen's mother was the day his father kicked Stephen out of the tribe, and the thought of dealing with her after everything that's happened has his stomach gnarled up into a knot.
Cautiously, he approaches. But before he can knock on the door, it flies open.
"How dare you!" Mrs. Kesselman's voice rings out, her eyes narrowing into furious slits.
Phyllis Kesselman — a tall, thin, brassy blonde in her late-forties — stands protectively in the doorway and growls, her eyes flashing so much anger, Patrick is taken aback. Although time and life have battered her down, worn her out, she still has a bit of the fight left in her.
She grips the doorknob so tightly, her knuckles turn a stark white. "How dare you show your face around here!" she seethes.
Just as she is about to slam the door shut, Patrick wedges his foot in the gap. "Please! Please, Mrs. Kesselman! I need to speak with you. It's important," he implores, his voice softening. "I saw Stephen the other day. It was only for a moment, but I saw him."
At the mention of her son, Mrs. Kesselman's fiery expression wavers. She hesitates, then slowly opens the door wider, allowing Patrick to step inside.
***
Patrick sits awkwardly at the small Formica table in the kitchen while Mrs. Kesselman leans back against the kitchen counter next to a broken-down, centuries-old microwave.
She retrieves a cigarette from a pack lying on the counter, lights it up, and without breaking eye contact with Patrick, exhales a slender cloud of smoke from the side of her mouth as her gaze rakes over him keenly. Then after a moment, she asks, "How did he look?" Her voice is harsh, raspy, so she clears her throat before speaking again. "How did he look... my Stephen? Did he look okay?"
"Yeah, he looked good," Patrick confirms. "He looked... healthy. He's been taking care of himself. Well, physically, at least."
Mrs. Kesselman nods. "Good. That's good."
Her shoulders visibly relax as she blows out another stream of smoke. She shifts on her feet and takes a long drag off her cigarette. "Then, why are you here?"
Patrick, perched uncomfortably in the vinyl kitchen chair, unconsciously swats at the smoke wafting his way. Mrs. Kesselman sees this, rolls her eyes and tamps out her cigarette.
"I ran into Stephen when I was... well," Patrick begins, "let's just say, I ran into him under unusual circumstances. We didn't have a lot of time to talk, so I don't know where he's staying or how to reach him. I really need to speak with him."
Mrs. Kesselman crosses her arms over her chest, "Okay, Patrick, if--and I mean if--I knew how you could contact my son, do you really think I'd tell you? Given that it was your father who had my son Cast Out. Given that Stephen was banished from this tribe, forever, because of you. Honestly, you must be nuts to think I'd want you anywhere near my boy."
She reaches for her cell phone and Patrick looks at her, confused.
"I want you to leave now," she declares, brandishing her phone like a weapon. "I don't want to have to call your father."
"But Mrs. Kesselman—"
"Seriously, Patrick. You know he won't be happy knowing you're here."
Patrick leans forward and scrubs his face, then he runs his hands through his hair. This was a terrible idea.
He blows out a frustrated breath, then stands. To hell with this! He shakes his head.
He's tired... tired of having to fight this fight over and over again — first with his father, then with Stephen's mother, then with the Elders from the tribe. Stephen got kicked out because of what they did, because of what they were, and he got a pass because he was the Chief's son. There was nothing he could do about it then.
But, now... well... well, he'd just have to find another way.
Patrick snatches his car keys from the table and, defeated, heads for the door. But before he leaves, he stops. Clutching the door knob, he holds the door open just a crack. Head bowed, he doesn't turn around, but adds..., "I didn't seduce your son, Mrs. Kesselman. Stephen was gay before me; he'll be gay after me." He lifts his head to look at her. "We never did anything wrong. Not once. All we did was fall in love."
Caught off guard by the use of the word "love," Mrs. Kesselman blinks in confusion. But then she quickly recovers, scoffs, and rolls her eyes. "Love!" She shakes her head. "Love? Is that what you call it? You mean to tell me you two were 'making love' when your father caught you out by the pond, doing... doing..." Her face contorts into an ugly grimace. "...whatever it was you were doing at the time?"
Patrick winces, her scorn cutting him like a knife. He's so tempted to just walk away because this is all getting much too hard for him. But instead, he squares his jaw, and determined not to lose control, turns around and confronts her.
With a fragile calm, Patrick says, "Yes, Mrs. Kesselman, in fact, that's exactly what we were doing. Stephen and I were making love. And you want to know something?" His eyes narrow. "It was heartbreaking. It was earth-shattering. It was..." His voice cracks as he swallows hard. "It was glorious!"
Struggling to keep it together, Patrick swallows hard. "In fact, it was easily one of the best days of my life. And whether or not you want to believe it, I know — without a doubt — Stephen felt the same way too." He shakes off his anger, reminding himself that getting upset with her and all the other bigoted adults in his tribe isn't going to help him find Stephen "Look," he says. "I'm not here to rehash old arguments, and I'm not here to make amends. I'm here because Stephen is in trouble."
A look of concern crosses Mrs. Kesselman's face, "Trouble? What do you mean, trouble?"
Patrick comes over and stands next to her at the counter softly saying, "From what I can tell, Stephen's gotten himself mixed up with The Resistance."
"What?!" Mrs. Kesselman exclaims.
Patrick tries to soothe her. "I don't think he's gotten himself in too deep yet." In fact, I got the sense that if offered a viable way out, he'd take it. And that's what I want to do: find him a viable way out. It might take some time, but believe me, I will do it."
Seeing Patrick's determination, Mrs. Kesselman's defiance crumbles. She reaches out and takes Patrick's hand. "Patrick... I'm sorry. I've been blaming you all this time and that's not fair."
She looks at him, truly remorseful. "I guess when I finally get past my hurt and my anger, I know you're not the cause of all of this." Letting go of his hand, she sighs softly. Then after a beat, says, "But I still hold your father responsible, you know. Gods, he's such an ass!"
Patrick chuckles in agreement.
"Look, I'll be honest," Mrs. Kesselman continues. "I don't fully understand these... these... types of relationships. But even in the midst of my willful blindness, I could see that you and Stephen had something very, very special. I saw the way he was with you, and he was so happy. And the way you looked out for him." She flattens her hands against her chest. "Ugh! It just touched my heart!"
She leans back against the counter. "Now, I know you're not familiar with all the aspects of our Wolf culture, but coming from a family of Rogues and Omegas, Stephen was destined to be bullied and pushed around and made to feel like he was the lowest of the low... even in our progressive tribe." She cocks her head thoughtfully. "I think maybe that's why I freaked out so much when you guys came out, you know? It just made it seem like, with that, in addition to everything else, he would be condemned to be an outsider for the rest of his life."
Patrick breathes in a slow breath. The thought of how Stephen had been pushed around and mistreated so badly before he and Patrick had become friends wrenches at Patrick's heart. He inhales sharply. "Yeah, I get it," he says on a soft exhale.
Seeing Patrick's reaction and feeling the loss of her son now more than ever, Mrs. Kesselman — who longs to feel like a mother again — reaches out and gently rubs Patrick's back. "I know you love my boy, honey. I really do. And I tried to deny it for the longest time. But deep down, I always knew it was true." She gives him a soft pat on the back. "So, what do you need me to do, hun? What do you need my help with?"
Patrick, regaining some control, asks, "Do you know where he's staying or how I can contact him?"
Mrs. Kesselman shakes her head and shrugs. "All I know is that he's staying in the warehouse district, down by the docks. You know that area where they're converting all the warehouses into condos? I honestly don't know which one, but he's there, somewhere in that neighborhood."
"And how do you typically get in touch with him?" Patrick asks.
"He always gets in touch with me, usually calling from a different phone each time."
Patrick frowns at this.
"Look," Mrs. Kesselman continues, "why don't we do this?" She reaches for a pen and a piece of paper from the counter and scribbles something on it. Handing it to Patrick, she says, "This is my cell phone number. You give me yours and I swear the next time I talk to Stephen. I'll try and find out exactly where he is. I promise, I'll let you know the minute I get something, okay?"
Patrick nods. He takes the piece of paper and slips it into his pocket. Then, he enters his number into her phone.
With a sad smile, he hands the phone back to her. "Thanks, Mrs. Kesselman."
Mrs. Kesselman puts the phone aside, then takes Patrick's hand in hers again. She looks him in the eyes and says, "Stay for a cup of coffee, or maybe even a beer, huh? I don't get too many visitors way out here in Shifter Siberia."
Patrick laughs softly and nods. "Sure, okay."
"And, Patrick..." Mrs. Kesselman says as she gives him a warm smile, "...please, call me Phyllis."
**********
A/N - This chapter was definitely a tough one to write and orchestrate, given the emotional nature of it, but I hope you enjoyed seeing this side of Patrick!
And I had no clue what Stephen's mother would be like when I started writing this chapter. All I had was a picture of a thin, older blonde woman smoking a cigarette on her lunch break outside of a diner.
It's funny how sometimes a minor character can come alive on the page and surprise you.
Until net week!
~ Paula ❤️