This is a continuation – if you like to read part one, click here.

Rosalind distinctly remembered how her son, Keith, had gradually lost his mind and turned to cleaning. At first, it didn’t bother her much, after all, he hadn’t started smoking, drinking, gambling or collecting weird artefacts (like her upstairs neighbour Burke, whom she hated with a passion that should be studied). Keith had called her in a surprisingly calm voice to tell her that he was fired because they closed the entire department and had assured her, that his sales position would surely be needed elsewhere. The memory was that clear in her mind, because a) Keith never stayed calm and usually burst into fits of rage when something didn’t go to plan (no idea where he got that from, she’d civilised him early on) and b) he had been working at Fredrickson and Sons for at least seven years and they paid him well. She didn’t bother with what exactly he sold (lies probably, he’d always been good at telling them), but he seemed content and it was really hard for him to be content with anything (again, something he must’ve picked up at the nursery or at college).

What should’ve been a few weeks of him finding a new job, turned into months of taking care of the kids (five to be precise, why on earth he’d make that many was complete madness) and his wife switching to being the breadwinner and staying at the hospital even more hours than before. Rosalind respected Annie, she was hardworking, ambitious, money-driven and well-manicured, but there was probably something wrong with her for picking Keith, who seemed at a standstill for most of his life.

The first week of his unemployment had passed in utter depression, then turning into aggression and finally obsession – anything that has as many -ssion sounds in it was fitting to be honest. If he couldn’t get the next best job – and one that paid even better compared to what he had before-  then he didn’t want it and he would therefore become the best stay-at-home dad ever. He managed the kids, he managed the grocery shopping, filled up the cars, fixed the cupboards around the house and cooked around six meals every day – because god forbid all kids should want to eat at the same time. He called her to come help him in the first month and then suddenly stopped, which fascinated and … well, annoyed her.

“Keith, are you doing okay? Do you need any help with the windows or the clothes or anything else?,” she had asked him on the phone.
“I’m doing great, mum. You won’t believe this, but there is actually a Youtube channel with DIYs on how to clean the house, I’m learning loads from it.”
“Okay then, don’t break a leg.”
“How would I break a leg by scrubbing my shower?”
“Well you might, if you leave it running.”
“Wow, thanks mum.”

She didn’t mention that he’d already broken his foot because he’d failed to brake and the car had rolled over him, or that he’d suffered burns just a week earlier whilst turning sausages on the barbecue with his fingers. After they talked, she didn’t think about the self-help videos anymore until he started bringing them up again and again and again. Videos, where flowers were perfectly arranged (that he’d want to try that with all of the kids in the house was insane), videos about the best polishing oils for teak wood (she didn’t even know he could afford teak wood anywhere in the house), videos about the right way to mow the lawn (he didn’t even have a lawn) and finally, videos on how to knit matching sweater and hat combos (that was when she realized he was having real problems that she should have spotted sooner). He redecorated every room, ironed until late at night and decluttered the basement (no sane person would ever do that) and then, when he couldn’t find any more plates to replace, electrical devices to be fixed or drawers to sort, he wanted to do it at her place. Or in his own words: “Let me help you mum, I’ve learned so much now, I could basically start my own business! Plus… I need a challenge!”

Never in her life had anyone said that she was chaotic or messy or that her home was “a challenge”, so naturally, she stopped calling and started ignoring him. Until he turned up at her doorstep and wanted to “Check her place out”, air freshener in tow, a toolbox under one arm and a mop in the back of his car. She gave him around 15 minutes to have a tea, see how many nerves he had lost, learnt, that he had his own Youtube channel now and concluded, that he neededed an intervention and she must clearly be the one to do it. Rosalind looked at Edgar the cat, sleeping on the edge of the sofa without a care in the world, and gave a deep sigh. Maybe Keith needed to realize that the entire cleaning/househusband thing was too much for him after all (she definitely didn’t want him to make her home his next project), so he might need to be challenged.
Gripping her phone off the coffee table, she dialled his number. “Keith sweetie, what do you think about me coming over tomorrow?”

If you have any ideas on the future development of Rosalind’s and Keith’s relationship, let me know in the comments. 😉