"Skwisgaar…! Where ams you going?"
Skwisgaar stood in the living room of the cottage he and his mother shared.
"I don'ts know," the blonde said simply.
Serveta walked over to her son, who at 18 towered over her, and looked at him seriously.
"Yous has no wheres to go. No money, no friends, no food, no-"
"Jah, jah, jah..! I know. But… I has to do this."
The blonde woman looked a bit upset.

"Mom, yous don't care. Do nots pretend."
"Skwisgaar! I ams yous mom. Of course I care."
"No," Skwisgaar said quietly, "Yous really don't. Jah, I'ms your son but yous don't care really."
"Sit down and talks with me," Skwisgaar's mother said.
He was reluctant, but Skwisgaar did sit down on the sofa with his mother. The blonde young man took a good hard look at the living room, knowing fare well it would be a long time before he ever came back here.
"Skwisgaar, yous is my baby-"
"I ams your son. Yous prefer the men to me," he said lowly.

"No, no-"
"Jah! And yous knows it! All my lifes I have seen men in and out nights after nights. They lights your cigarette and yous has a fuck. What about me!"
Serveta looked disappointed. But was it in herself or what her son was saying? That was the question in Skwisgaar's mind.

"I'ms tireds of this. I don'ts want to be here anymore. I don'ts wants to see yous fuck-mates and I don'ts wants to be here when yous and them come around…!"
The young man's face was contorted into an expression of cold anger.

"Yous was the moms when yous wanted to be."
"I trieds, Skwisgaar," Serveta said in little more than a whisper.
"I don'ts like whats I see, mom."
"Whys do yous do this!"
Skwisgaar abruptly got up from the sofa and began to pace around the homey living room. Serveta watched as her son shared the appearance of a caged animal in both his mannerism and expression.
"I-"
"These men!" Skwisgaar exclaimed, "Yous has a fuck, maybe go outs to eat then what! He leaves! He always leaves! What ams you looking for!"
The mother stayed quiet. Her son had it all wrong. She wasn't looking for companionship. Truth be told, she just wanted to sex.
"I have trieds my entire life to ignore yous men," Skwisgaar said coldly.
"I ams not a good mom! There's! I admits it!" Serveta started to tear up.
"I ams not feelings guilty, mom. Not now. Not ever."
As soon as they started, the tears stopped and Serveta looked angry. She too arose from the sofa and walked over to her son and looked him straight in the eye.
"Yous shoulds be!"
"Be what?"
"Guilty! Leavings yous mom likes this..!"
"Why can'ts you understand! This place is killings me!"
Skwisgaar looked up at the ceiling.
"Yous fucked a man everywhere! I can't move without thinkings about what yous has done!"
Serveta's lips curled into a nasty frown.
"Mom, I ams going."
Skwisgaar made his way upstairs into his own bedroom. It was a comfortable room with a bed, a dresser, and some other boyhood odds and ends. Carefully, Skwisgaar packed up a few items in a backpack and put his beloved guitar in it's case. When he was satisfied, the blonde went back downstairs where his mother was still standing.
"Yous can'ts leave!"
"I can and will."
Serveta stood in front of the door.
"I don'ts wants you to leave!"
"Why?" Skwisgaar hissed, "Sos you can play the lonely mother to the bastard child? Yous used me for sympathy. I want's to be gone…! I wants to be rid of you!"
Serveta balled her fists and said rather loudly, "Yous are ungrateful!"
"Ungrateful!" Skwisgaar yelled, "Yous nearly completely ignored me when I was a child!"
The mother had no defense. More or less, her son was right. Even she knew she'd rather a man in her bed then read her son a story.
"I don'ts want yous to look for me," said Skwisgaar quietly.
"How wills I know my boy is alright?" Serveta asked.
"Yous won't. But yous always won't come begging me home when yous is alone."
Serveta sighed.
"Yous really wants to leave?"
"I can'ts stand it here," Skwisgaar said lowly, "I figured out whats yous is all about and now I haves the chance to get away."
This entire conversation had burned Serveta. She knew she was an indifferent mother, but she never expected Skwisgaar to be so adamant about leaving. Usually he kept to himself around the home. Playing his guitar was mostly what he did in the home. It was then that Serveta came full circle with the notion that she knew nothing about her son. Nothing. Zip. Nada.
"I haves to go now, mom," Skwisgaar finally said.

Reluctantly, Serveta moved from the doorway and watched as her son said not another word as he walked out of their home and into the snow. The only thing that she knew for sure was that her son seemed to be going in the direction of the village. Good. The village. Maybe he'd have someplace warm to sleep.

Once her son was out of sight, Serveta closed the door and went back to the sofa. With an empty house and unlimited time, the blonde woman did the only thing she knew to. With as much dignity as she could muster, she went to her bedroom and began to doll herself up with make-up and taking time to do her hair. Afterwards slipping into a comfortable nightgown. It was around 6:30 in the evening and she was having some male company around 8-ish.