He had it roaring in no time and was playing a game on his phone by the fire when his mom came over. She had changed into sweat pants and a white T-shirt. “My camping PJs,” she said, handing him a soda from the cooler.
“Thanks,” he said, looking over at the large cup his mother was holding.
“I hope you don’t mind, but we still had all that tequila and whisky and mixers in the car, and I really need to unwind.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Paul said, although he did, a little. His mom was prone to drinking when she was upset, usually ending up sloppy drunk and stumbling around. He figured she’d be okay here and he wasn’t tired in the least, so he’d stay up playing his phone and keep an eye on her. She would probably pass out early.
She took a big drink and then looked at him lovingly. “You’re so grown up. You know I’m very proud of you.” She took another big drink. She wasn’t going slowly tonight.
“Thanks, Mom. Are you okay?”
“Yes. I had so much fun today. Tomorrow, I’d like to hike up to Stone Peak together.”
“Think you can handle that?” Paul joked.
“What? I can handle anything you’ve got,” she replied, laughing. Then she drained her glass and made to stand up. “I guess I’ll—”
“Not on your life,” Paul interrupted. One of his father’s responsibilities was getting fresh drinks for his wife while they were camping. Well, at least that’s how it went in happier times, Paul thought. “I’ve got this. Remember that I’m handling all of his work on this camping trip!”
“His? Who—oh yes!” She laughed. “He, who shall not be named! Do you—?”
“Yes, I know what you’re having and I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, Paul returned with a fresh drink for his mother and another soda for himself. “Will you be able to sleep with all that caffeine?” she asked, draining half her cup. “Oh this is good! Much better than when I made it.”
“Thank you!” he said, proud of himself. “And yes, I will be able to sleep. Don’t worry about me.” He was even more proud of himself for making her drink twice as strong as usual. She’d be asleep soon and he wouldn’t have to deal with her drunken stupor. He smiled.
“Oh, very proud of yourself, aren’t you?” she said, slightly slurring her words and draining the rest of her drink. “It’s time to perform your duty, good sir,” she thrust her cup in his direction.
Paul laughed. He had forgotten that his mother and father fell into this mock-pseudo-Medieval dialogue when they were drinking. It used to be cute. He was their little page, back in the day. Now he wasn’t sure what he was. “Yes indeed, my fair, uh, Queen? I’m your, um—”
“Knight! You’re my handsome Knight!” she laughed hysterically. “And yes, I am the queen!”
“Uh…yes… um…well, your handsome knight will fetch a liquid refreshment suitable for thy great beauty,” he stuttered and went to get her another, stronger drink. He sucked at being a knight and he wasn’t sure if he had said something wrong. His mother was quiet over there. He was embarrassed and glad that she wouldn’t remember anything in the morning.
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