Donna's Shift

Joey sat on the edge of his bed, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. The day had been one long, exhausting blur, and now his mother, who was inexplicably at home from work, was knocking on his door. All he had wanted to do was come home, be by himself, and recharge. The day started bad, and it ended bad. His mother, even at the best of times, wouldn't give him what he needed. What he needed, what he really needed, was to be alone.

Sighing, he lay the phone beside him on the duvet cover.

"Yeah?" he called, his voice laced with ****.

The door creaked open, and Donna Granger poked her head in. She was still dressed in her office attire; a fitted white blouse and a pencil skirt that hugged her hips and accentuated her slim waist. The hemline of the skirt stopped just above her knees, revealing long, toned legs that ended in sensible yet stylish black pumps. Her blouse, though modest, hinted at the fullness of her chest, a feature that had once turned heads in high school hallways and still drew attention today, even if she pretended not to notice.

Her hair, dark brown with just a touch of auburn in the right light, was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, emphasizing her high cheekbones and flawless makeup. There was a natural elegance to her, the kind that came effortlessly, even at the end of a workday. Her posture was straight, confident, everything that Joey felt he wasn't. Both his mother and father exuded such self-assurance that he often wondered where he had come from, how he had been sired by such a pair. The slight narrowing of her warm brown eyes revealed a flicker of concern as she stepped into Joey’s room.

"Mind if I come in?"

Joey shrugged. "Whatever."

She closed the door behind her. Perching on the desk chair, her hands folded in her lap. "Rough day?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes scanning his face.

He rolled his eyes. "It’s fine."

"Is it about that girl?" she asked, her voice gentle but probing. "The one I saw you talking to on the street?"

Joey stiffened. "She’s just some girl from school."

Donna tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Some girl who was very pretty."

Joey's patience snapped. "Mom, she’s not... whatever you’re thinking. She followed me home, okay? It’s not like that."

"Followed you?" Donna repeated, surprised. "Why would she do that?"

"I don’t know!" Joey snapped, throwing his hands in the air. "Maybe because she thinks I’m some kind of charity case or something. Maybe she likes me. Maybe she's just a jerk. I don't know!"

Donna’s brows furrowed, hesitating before saying, "Well, Joey, maybe you should feel a little flattered. A girl like that doesn’t pay attention to just anyone."

Joey stared at her, the frustration bubbling over. "Are you serious right now?"

Donna blinked. "What? I'm just saying that if a pretty girl like that decides to give someone like you a try, maybe you should consider it."

"Someone like me?!" Joey said, standing abruptly. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the small room. "You think she’s too good for me, don’t you? That I should be grateful a girl like her even looked my way."

"That’s not what I meant," Donna said quickly, but Joey cut her off.

"Um, actually," he began, his temper getting away from him, the words tumbling out faster than he could think, "that's exactly what you meant, and you should be ashamed of thinking about me, your own son, that way!" Now he was on a roll, "What you’re not getting is that women, especially hot high school girls, don’t want the old-fashioned idea of the ‘perfect’ guy. They want me. I’m the new perfect guy. It’s a proven fact. Women like that are drawn to me. They can't help it! I’m the exact type of guy that makes girls who are popular in high school lose their minds. They don’t want jocks anymore; the big muscle-bound bros are a thing of the past. I’m the new thing."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Joey sank back onto his bed, suddenly aware of how ridiculous he sounded. But the look on his mother’s face wasn’t mocking—it was stunned, like she had been slapped in the face. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. "Forget it," he muttered. "Just forget I said anything."

Donna stepped out of Joey’s room and leaned against the hallway wall, her mind spinning. She had come upstairs intending to comfort her son, but now she felt more disoriented than ever. His words kept echoing in her head, reshaping her thoughts with an unsettling clarity.

She tried to brush it off. Joey was just a kid, his outburst fueled by teenage insecurity. But as she stood there, her thoughts betrayed her. Joey wasn’t wrong. Something about his certainty, his charisma, made his words feel undeniably true. Her mind drifted back to the girl she’d seen on the street, then to herself as a teenager. She had been that girl once—the center of attention, the one everyone wanted.

Donna **** herself to breathe deeply, to ground herself. She thought about Hank. Her husband, the quintessential jock-turned-alpha male, had always been her type. Broad-shouldered, confident, successful. But as she tried to picture him now, the image wavered, dissolving like mist. In its place, in the treasure vault of her mind in which she held the image of her ideal man, came something unexpected, traits that weren’t Hank’s at all. The quiet intensity, the wiry frame, the unassuming nerdiness that Joey exuded. If only Hank were a little more like Joey. A little scrawnier. A little less macho.

Her stomach churned. What was wrong with her? This was her son. She pushed off the wall and headed downstairs, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as if she could outrun the thoughts invading her mind.

At the kitchen table, she sat with a mug of lukewarm coffee cradled in her hands, staring into the dark liquid. She needed to get a grip, to reassert control over her thoughts. But as she sat there, one thing became clear: something had shifted, and she wasn’t sure she could ever see things the same way again.