Straightening Affairs - 4. Chapter 4

The next morning, the weight of the previous night's events still lingered heavily on Michael’s shoulders, but he forced himself to push it aside as he got up and got ready for work. As he finished his morning coffee with Sarah, the familiar sound of his phone buzzing interrupted the quiet moment. He glanced at the screen and saw that a new meeting had just been scheduled with him and his team. It wasn’t unusual—they had been working on a major account for months, and they were finally nearing the end of the project.

Michael kissed Sarah goodbye and left for work, trying to shake off the remnants of his mother’s outburst from the night before. The cool morning air offered a brief distraction, and he focused on the upcoming meeting, assuming it was just another routine update to wrap things up. But the unsettling feeling in his chest remained, as if something wasn’t quite right.

As Michael arrived at the office, the atmosphere was different—tense, quiet. His coworkers were already seated when he walked into the meeting room, their faces a mixture of confusion and concern. His manager, looking uncharacteristically grim, stood at the front of the room.

Michael’s heart sank as the words hit him like a freight train: the client they had been working with had decided to terminate the contract—effective immediately. The company had no choice but to let the entire team go. They were being laid off.

The news hit Michael hard. He sat there, stunned, trying to process what had just happened. Everything he had been working toward, the progress he had made since moving into the city, was suddenly in jeopardy. His mind raced. What was he going to do now? Sarah was just starting her career and wasn’t working full-time yet. How would they afford their apartment? How would he break this news to her? The generous severance would only last so long.

Panic began to creep in as he stood up and left the office. He considered heading straight to his parents' house. Maybe his mother, despite everything, would know what to do. She had always been able to step in during crises, whether he wanted her help or not.

But then he stopped himself. No. Running back to his mother wasn’t the answer. This was his life now, his responsibility to figure out. He needed to go home and tell Sarah.

The door clicked open as Michael stepped inside the apartment. Sarah, surprised to see him home so early, looked up from the sofa where she had been doing research. Her face brightened for a moment, but it quickly shifted to concern as she took in Michael’s expression.

"Michael? How come you're home so early?" she asked, getting up and walking over to him.

Michael took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. "Sarah… I got laid off."

Her eyes widened in shock. "What? What happened?" She reached for his hand and gently led him to the sofa, clearing her books and papers away to give him space to sit. "Tell me everything."

Michael sat down, his hands shaking slightly as he recounted the meeting. He explained how the client had pulled out unexpectedly, leaving the company with no choice but to cut his entire team. “We’re all being let go, effective immediately,” he said, his voice hollow. “They’ll give us severance, but... I don’t know how long that’ll last.”

Sarah squeezed his hand, her brow furrowed in concern, but her voice remained calm. “We’ll figure this out, Michael. You’re not alone in this.”

“But what are we going to do?” Michael asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The stress of it all—losing his job, the uncertainty of the future—felt crushing. He had just started to feel like things were settling down after moving out of his parents’ house, and now this.

Sarah looked him straight in the eyes, her tone firm but reassuring. “We’ll get through this. I have savings, and we can dip into that for a while. You have savings too. Between the two of us, we’ll be fine for a bit. We’ll tighten our belts, but we’ll manage.”

Michael’s eyes filled with gratitude and a flicker of hope. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to have to carry us, not when you’re just starting out.”

“We’re in this together,” Sarah said softly, placing her hand on his cheek. “It’s not about me carrying you or you carrying me. It’s about us figuring it out as a team. We’ll find a way, okay?”

Michael nodded, still feeling the weight of the unknown, but Sarah’s steady presence grounded him. She had always been the calm in his storm, and once again, she was there, offering him the stability he needed.

For a moment, he let himself lean into that comfort, into the idea that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. They had each other, and that had to count for something.

Several months had passed, and Michael’s once-hopeful job search had turned into a painful exercise in futility. The economy was struggling, and despite his good marks, his charm, and his charisma, he couldn’t land a job. Each rejection email stung more than the last. He had tried everything—tweaking his resume, sending follow-up emails, even applying to positions he would have never considered before. But nothing worked. The weight of uncertainty and financial pressure bore down on him, and desperation started to settle in.

One morning, after Sarah had gone to work, Michael sat alone in their apartment, his thoughts racing. Their savings were dwindling fast, and they had already cut back on expenses wherever they could. The severance package, once a small cushion, was now gone. As he stared at the empty coffee cup in his hands, an idea came to him—one that he had been resisting for months. Maybe it was time to go back home. Not to ask for money, but for something else—perhaps just a bit of compassion or advice, even if it meant swallowing his pride.

The thought of his mother’s parting words before he moved out echoed in his mind: “Don’t expect us to pay for rent.” And yet, here he was, returning home. But this wasn’t about money. He wasn’t asking for that. All he wanted was some understanding, some sign that his parents, especially his mother, could offer him something besides criticism.

He made the decision. Grabbing his jacket, he stepped outside, boarded the bus, and took the long ride home. The city whizzed by, but his mind was elsewhere, weighed down by the growing fear of what lay ahead.

As he approached his parents’ house, a wave of anxiety washed over him. His family home felt different now, almost unfamiliar, like a place he no longer belonged. He couldn’t just walk in anymore, not like he used to. He was a visitor now.

When he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment before ringing the doorbell. The sound echoed in the quiet street. After a few seconds, the door opened, and there stood his mother, surprised to see him standing there.

“Michael?” she said, her voice a mix of surprise and curiosity. “What are you doing here? Come in! Isn’t she with you?”

“No, Mom,” Michael replied, stepping inside. “It’s just me. Sarah’s at work.”

“Oooh? And why aren’t you at work?” She closed the door behind him and turned, the question hanging in the air, laced with that familiar undertone of judgment.

“Mom, can we talk?” Michael said, his voice shaky but resolute.

“Yes, of course, Michael,” she replied, her tone softening. “I was just about to start lunch, but we can talk while I prepare.” She walked into the kitchen, motioning for Michael to follow her.

Michael trailed behind her, placing his jacket on the back of the kitchen chair. He sat down, trying to collect his thoughts. As his mother busied herself at the stove, her back turned to him, Michael began to explain everything—how he had lost his job, how the economy had made it impossible to find anything else, how their savings were running out, and how he didn’t know what to do.

His mother didn’t turn around. She listened, but Michael couldn’t see her face. What he didn’t know was that behind her calm demeanor, she was feeling something far from concern. She wasn’t overjoyed by his misfortune, but there was a sense of vindication—a subtle satisfaction that the independence he had so desperately sought had brought him right back to her doorstep.

“Oh, Michael, I’m so sorry about what happened to you,” she said, her voice dripping with sympathy. But there was something off in the way she emphasized the word you, as if to isolate him from Sarah, as if Sarah didn’t matter in this equation. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through.” It was as if Sarah didn’t matter and to her, she didn’t matter. It was Michael that she cared about.

Michael shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling the weight of her words. His mother turned briefly to glance at him before returning to the stove. “You know,” she continued, stirring the pot in front of her, “you can always move back home. The basement is just as you left it when you moved out.” She paused, letting the words sink in, the emphasis on move back home unmistakable.

The suggestion hung in the air like a trap, and Michael could feel it closing around him. The basement. It was a safe, familiar place. But moving back home? What would that mean for him and Sarah? Could they survive the constant interference, the never-ending stream of critiques? Could their relationship withstand it?

Michael swallowed hard, torn between the fear of impending financial ruin and the reality of what moving back home would mean. He knew that his mother would use this situation to her advantage, that any return would be on her terms. She wouldn’t let him forget it.

“I don’t know, Mom,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “I just… I don’t know what to do. We’re running out of savings, and I can’t seem to find a job. We’re getting desperate.”

His mother turned off the stove and turned around, walking over to him. She sat down across from him, her expression soft but calculating.

“Well, Michael, it’s up to you,” she said, her voice smooth and measured. “But if you need a place to stay, you know your father and I would welcome you back. It would give you time to get back on your feet. No rent to worry about. No stress. It might be the best thing for you. For you, Michael.” Again, she left Sarah out of the equation.

Michael’s heart pounded in his chest. He could see where this was going. His mother’s offer, on the surface, seemed reasonable, even generous. But beneath it, he could sense the control she would have over him once again, the way she would use this situation to wedge herself between him and Sarah.

He sat there, frozen. He knew he was setting himself and Sarah up for trouble if he accepted her offer. But what other choice did he have? If he didn’t do something soon, they might lose everything. He hadn’t even considered moving in with Sarah’s parents—he didn’t want to burden them. But maybe this was the only way out.

His mother leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a soothing whisper. “Think about it, Michael. You don’t have to decide now, but the offer is there. We’re your family. We’ll always be here for you.”

Michael nodded, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on him. “Thanks, Mom,” he muttered, standing up and grabbing his jacket. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

He had some lunch, gave his mom a good by hug and walked out of the house and back toward the bus stop, the conflicting emotions churned in his gut. His mother’s words echoed in his mind. Come back home. No rent. No stress. But at what cost? How would Sarah feel about this? Could they even survive under his mother’s roof?

As he boarded the bus back to his apartment, Michael stared out the window, the uncertainty gnawing at him. What was he going to do now?

Sarah came home after a long day at work, her shoulders heavy with the usual exhaustion. She expected the familiar sight of Michael at the door, his warm smile ready to greet her, reaching out to take her jacket and bag. But today, there was no greeting, no reassuring smile. Instead, she found him sitting at the dining table, his back hunched slightly, staring blankly at the glowing screen of his laptop.

She could feel the tension in the air even before she said a word. Something was wrong.

“Michael?” she asked gently, setting her bag down. “How was your day?”

Michael didn’t look up right away. He shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice quiet, hesitant. “I, uh… I went home today. To talk to my mom.”

Sarah’s brow furrowed as she absorbed his words. She didn’t say anything right away, but Michael could feel the weight of her silence. She had been so patient through everything—the job loss, the dwindling savings, the mounting pressure. And now he had gone back to the one place they both knew carried the risk of complicating everything further.

Sarah’s voice was steady, but there was an edge of concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going back home?”

Michael sighed, guilt creeping up on him. “I’m sorry, Sarah. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I didn’t plan to. I just… I didn’t know what else to do. Things are getting tight, and I thought maybe my parents could help, or at least offer some advice.”

He looked up at her, his eyes searching her face for understanding, but he could already feel the unease settling between them.

Sarah pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. Her posture was calm, but her expression was serious. “What did your mom say?”

Michael hesitated, the conversation with his mother replaying in his mind. He knew Sarah wouldn’t take well to certain parts of it—especially the insinuation that he could move back home alone, leaving her out of the picture. But he didn’t want to add more stress to the already precarious situation they were in.

“She… she said she was sorry to hear about everything. And, you know, she offered for us to move back home,” Michael said, his voice faltering slightly as he tried to choose his words carefully. “The basement is still set up like before, and she said we could stay there until I get back on my feet.”

Sarah’s expression didn’t change, but he could see the tension in her shoulders. “Did she say anything about me?” she asked, her voice careful, measured.

Michael looked away, unsure how to navigate the conversation. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Sarah about the subtle digs his mother had made, the way she had excluded Sarah from the offer, how it felt like his mother was waiting for this moment to drive a wedge between them.

“She didn’t really say much about that,” Michael admitted, keeping his tone neutral. “She just… focused on me, I mean us getting back on track.”

Sarah sat back in her chair, exhaling slowly. She didn’t need to hear the exact words to know what was happening. She had always sensed the tension between Michael’s mother and her, the unspoken criticisms, the way she was never quite accepted. And now, with things falling apart, she knew exactly what this offer really was—a lifeline for Michael, but a way to push her out of the equation.

“So, what are you thinking?” Sarah asked, trying to stay composed. “Are you considering it?”

Michael’s heart sank at the question. He had dreaded this moment. He didn’t want to move back home, and he didn’t want to hurt Sarah by even entertaining the idea. But the reality of their financial situation was staring him in the face, and every day that passed without a job offer only made the idea seem more plausible.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, his voice low. “I don’t want to go back there, Sarah. But we’re running out of options. I can’t let us go broke. If we lose this place…”

Sarah shook her head, her voice steady but firm. “Michael, I understand things are tough right now. But going back there, living under your mom’s roof again—it’s not just about finances. You know what it would do to us. It’s already hard enough with her constant judgment from afar. What happens when we’re back in her space, and she’s right there, influencing everything?”

Michael stared at her, the truth of her words sinking in. She was right. It wasn’t just about the money. It was about control, about his mother’s subtle manipulations, and how easily she could turn his world upside down once again.

“I know,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. “But I don’t know what else to do. We’re getting desperate.”

Sarah reached across the table and took his hand in hers. “We’ll figure it out, Michael. We’ll tighten things even more if we have to. I’ve got some savings left, and you’ve been doing everything you can to find a job. Something will come through. But moving back there? It’s not the answer. Not for us.”

Michael felt a lump in his throat, the weight of his emotions threatening to spill over. He wanted to believe her, to trust that they could make it work, but the uncertainty gnawed at him.

“I just don’t want to fail you,” he said quietly, his voice trembling.

Sarah squeezed his hand, her eyes softening. “You’re not failing me. We’re in this together. I’m with you, no matter what. But we have to make decisions that are best for us, not just what’s easiest in the moment.”

Michael nodded, his heart aching but grateful for her strength. She was right. Moving back home, no matter how tempting it seemed in the short term, would only lead to more problems. They had built something together, and he couldn’t let his mother tear that down.

“We’ll make it work,” Sarah said, her voice filled with quiet determination. “We always do.”

Michael leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers, letting her warmth ground him. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before I went,” he whispered. “I should’ve told you.”

“It’s okay,” she replied softly. “Just… promise me that whatever we decide, we’ll decide it together.”

“I promise,” Michael said, feeling a small sense of relief amidst the chaos.

They sat there in the quiet of their apartment, hand in hand, the uncertainty still looming over them but their bond stronger than ever.

He’s standing by a lake, the water calm and glassy beneath a silver moon. The air is cool, and the night is silent except for the soft rustle of leaves. Michael sees a man standing at the edge of the dock, his back turned. The figure calls to him—not with words, but with something deeper, something that pulls Michael closer.

He walks toward the man, his footsteps soundless against the wooden planks. When he’s close enough to reach out, the man turns to face him, but his features are veiled in shadow. There’s a familiarity in the way the man looks at him, as if they’ve met before, though Michael can’t place where.

Without hesitation, the man steps forward and wraps his arms around Michael, pulling him into an embrace. It feels right, though Michael can’t explain why. Their bodies are pressed together, and Michael’s heart pounds as the man’s hand moves to his face, guiding him into a kiss.

The kiss is tender, full of unspoken emotion, and Michael feels his body relax into it. Yet, just as quickly as it started, the man pulls away, slipping back into the shadows. Michael tries to follow, but the man is gone, leaving him standing alone on the dock.

As he wakes, the feeling of the kiss still lingers on his lips. His mind is swirling with confusion, the man’s presence haunting him. What is happening to me? Michael wonders, the question echoing in his mind as the dream fades and he falls asleep, chalking it up to the stress he is under.