Rochelle Lafleur - His Best Friend’s Mother

"Hand me that wrench, would you?" Rochelle asked from below the car, her hand open and outstretched. Matis, her only son, placed the tool in her hand, the cool metal familiar and comforting. A mechanic by trade, Rochelle had always been fascinated by engines, even as a small girl. She'd watched her father rebuild transmissions, replace brake pads, and change oil for years. When he retired and left her the shop, she'd jumped at the opportunity of running the business on her own. Her only regret was that there was so much administration that she didn't get enough time to get her hands dirty.

Well, that wasn't her only regret.

When Matis had been born, Rochelle had held high hopes out for the boy. With encouragement, he could take up the trade, learn from his mother, and take over when she retired, just as she had done with her own father. He wouldn't have to deal with the sexism that she was **** to overcome. Being a mechanic would be easy for him, and with her tutelage, he'd thrive. But as he grew older, Rochelle had to admit that it wasn't going to happen. He was as smart as a whip, good with his hands, but Matis couldn't care less about cars.

Rochelle had raised an artist.

Perhaps it was because he hadn't had a strong male role model. That's what her Uncle Pierre had implied. Well fuck Uncle Pierre. Rochelle was a good mother. A great mother, in fact. Yes, it was hard being a single mother, but she couldn't live a lie. She'd given the hetero lifestyle a shot, but three years in with Matis' father she had to admit that men weren't her thing. Yes, she knew that she was a walking-talking stereotype, a garage-owning, short-haired, Forester-driving lesbian, but there was no changing it. Rochelle had to be who she was; she wasn't going to live a lie, not for anyone.

And so she worked on engines, while Matis drew comics for some internet site. He still helped out around the garage every once and a while, like he was doing that day, but only because he loved his mother, not because he loved the work. It wasn't the life that she wanted for him, but she could understand. Rochelle was sure that her parents hadn't wanted her to end up as she did, but they supported her when she came out. And so Rochelle could support Matis as he explored his artistic passions.

It didn't mean she was particularly happy about it though.

It would help if he seemed to be going somewhere with his life. Yes, he was productive, posting new comic strips almost daily. She read each and every one he uploaded. She didn't understand them, but she read them. The rest of the time he just loafed around, hanging out with his friends, watching movies, smoking pot. The only one of his friends that seemed to be doing anything with his life was that tall skinny one, Phil, and he gave her the creeps. Not only did Rochelle suspect that the "independent contracting" business he said he ran was just a code word for something illegal, she always felt that his eyes wandered a bit too much when he looked at her.

Rochelle looked up at the car she was working on, then paused. It was like, for a second, she wasn't alone. Not in the garage. Matis was right there, staring up at the work she was doing. No, not alone in her brain, as if someone else was with her, having her thoughts at the same time she was.

No, that was silly. She pushed the thought from her mind, refocusing on her work. As soon as she did, the feeling passed. She'd have to check that the exhaust system was working properly in the shop, cycling in clean, fresh air. Maybe she was feeling the effects of some bad air. Whatever the reason, soon enough she had moved on with her thoughts. She had cars to fix, and maybe, just maybe, something would click with Matis. Probably not, but she could always hope.