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Chapter 3 by Kainen Kainen

This very much sounds like an In Media Res opening. What all actually lead to this?

Believe it or not; a dinner out to celebrate a milestone.

Who would've ever thought a small dinner with his mother celebrating his graduation from high school would lead Aidan to that moment in time? It had been a nice evening after out, the the heat not nearly so bad as one might expect in late June. Though of course the concrete and steel of the city retained it quite well. Never the less Aidan's mother Moira had brought him to a nice Italian restaurant her co-workers had recently made her aware of.

His mother's blue eyes and their slight ring of green at the outer edge of the iris had fascinated Aidan from the time he'd been born according to his Aunt Siobahn's teasing. Though thankfully he never got as much teasing as his mother did for continuing to dye her red hair a darker brunette. His own hair took after his father: a lighter brown that tended to reflect the sun more than absorb it, though strands of reddish gold inherited from his mother's Irish blood tended to peek through as he grew older. At 5'10, he had a full three inches on his mother though obviously more eyes were drawn to her C-cups and sharp features than to his own average body and slightly more average looks when they went out together.

Please log in to view the imagePlease log in to view the imagePlease log in to view the imageThe same remained true as they entered the low lighting of Il Conte di Urbino. The maitre d's professional smile becoming a bit wider at the sight of his mother, fully reaching his eyes when his mother told them they had a reservation under the name Vahlen. It was amazing sometimes how making someone's job easier could endear you to them almost as much as being attractive might.

Remaining silent as they moved into the main dining area, Aidan couldn't help but feel the paintings and artwork of the Italian countryside contrasted with the more modern aesthetics of the establishment: the old fashioned artwork and pastoral subjects standing out against the stark modern furniture and muted colors of not just the walls but the chairs and light fixtures. But considering the best artwork he'd ever managed to make was a yin-yang symbol made out of colored sands when he was in grade school, Aidan knew he wasn't in any position to judge the establishment owner's taste.

His mother's manicured fingers alighted on his left shoulder even as her head leaned against the upper part of his arm, her scent of vanilla with a slight hint of orange gently entering his nose as she sighed and told him how proud she was. A feathery light kiss on his cheek was enough for a genuine smile to pull his lips upward as they were brought to a table closer to the center of the room rather than any kind of private booth.

He pulled his mother's chair out for her, the 3 years of etiquette classes she'd **** him to attend in middle school still strong even after four years of high school. Perhaps he'd never give any kind of grand reception or ever manage to remember the multitude of silverware that could potentially surround a plate, but the manners and dance moves had been invaluable for his dates in high school never being embarrassed by dancing with him. She smiled at him as he took his seat, as the maitre d departed and informed them their server would be by shortly. Her fingers intertwined to form a ball on the table with her hands in front of her as she spoke again.

"So my darling, do you still have your heart set on Columbia or has my boy perhaps reconsidered NYU?" She asked, eyes slightly narrowing as her ruby lips came up in a gently teasing smile. The question had been ongoing ever since he decided to try for a journalism degree rather than attend his mother's alma mater. Much as his mother would've loved for him to follow in her footsteps studying the sciences even if he never became a preeminent expert in any field the way she herself was in genetics, she had known from the time he joined his high school's book club and newspaper that it simply wasn't where his interests lay.

Aidan responded in the manner that was by now routine to them both.

"But then who would you trust to interview you when you find the secret to immortality?" He said, leaning back in the chair, arms crossed over his chest as the seats had no armrests or anything else for him to settle his limbs on.

"I'm sure I'd find some other dashing newshound eager for the scoop. But I would certainly give you serious consideration." She said just as easily, eyes laughing even as her smile remained.

Her right hand reached toward the center of the table, open for him to take in his own. His left hand reached forward to grasp it, her warmth pleasant on his skin.

"In all seriousness, I am quite proud of you Aidan." She said.

"You worked hard, you studied diligently, and now you're a proud graduate of the class of 2000." She continued, maternal pride infused in every syllable.

"No matter where you study, they'll be lucky to have you. I just hope you remember to leave your dormitory on occasion to visit your dear mother." She finished, a brief squeeze of her hand conveying her love as she released his own.

"Gotcha: no visiting Aunt Siobahn." He joked, chuckling at his deliberate misunderstanding of his mother's sentiment.

An almost silent giggle escaped his mother as she shook her head, the same expression she sometimes got when she reminisced about his father's penchant for whispering small jokes in her ear to try and get her composure to slip when they attended black tie functions as a part of their work making its way onto her face.

She had taken his father's name when they married, having no interest in writing Vahlen-Thomas on countless pieces of paper going forward and had no particular thought of carrying on the Thomas name seeing as how Aunt Siobahn might still find someone and settle down if ever the hospital she worked at would stop giving her such grueling work hours.

Aidan privately doubted Aunt Siobahn would truly settle down since most of his knowledge about how not to act on a date had been derived from the horror stories she shared with him about trying to dip her feet into that scene. But his mother's optimism remained eternal and so he saw no harm in letting her think so.

As the waiter made his way over and introduced himself as Robert, his mother ordered a plate of shrimp scampi while Aidan himself ordered the grilled chicken alfredo. They mother and son pair continued to talk, his mother explaining that the higher ups at the Gentech thinktank had approved of her budget while Aidan talked about how his friend Danny was still working on the great american novel even though he seemed to be more interested in smoking up some inspiration than in actually writing anything.

The food had come quickly and efficiently, as Aidan would've hoped from the pricey nature of the menu. As they were digging in, two men escorting their dates had ordered the check.

And that was when the chaos erupted.

Bangs so loud they temporarily deafened Aidan, the ringing in his ears not letting him hear anything else. His mother's eyes widening as red blossomed from her side and her shoulder before she fell backward. Aidan didn't even look: only shoved the table to the side as he dove for his only living parent. Even while the ringing persisted, he felt her shivering slightly in his arms like she had just walked out into a New York winter from their pleasantly heated apartment building. He needed to apply pressure. Once his hearing started to come back, he realized he was babbling.

Telling his mother he had her, that he was right here, that she was going to be ok, that he wasn't going to leave her, that the ambulance was going to get here soon.

Anything that crossed his mind to keep her eyes open and on him.

He stayed by her side even as the paramedics came, even as they wheeled her through the front of the hospital. He stayed right up until he was stopped by the doctor from following them into surgery.

He hadn't even realized this was the hospital his aunt worked at until his head was suddenly buried in her scrubs covered chest, her hands rubbing the back of his head and neck as she tried to speak words of comfort through her own tears.

Well that's certainly a bad turn. But still doesn't explain playing matador with a speeding car?

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