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My roommate Jake and I have been friends since freshman year. We're total opposites - he's this straight-laced business major who color-codes his calendar, while I'm more of a "figure it out as I go" type. But somehow it works.
Last month, Jake started acting weird. Taking calls in his room with the door closed. Being super secretive with his laptop. One night, I heard him arguing with someone on the phone - "Mom, it's my life! You can't control everything!" He slammed his door when he saw me in the hallway.
A week later, Jake told me he was going to a business conference in Chicago. Asked if I could pick up an important package from his mom's house while he was gone. Said it was a birthday gift he ordered that needed a signature. No big deal - his mom only lived like 10 minutes away.
Mrs. Johnson had always been this perfect suburban mom - baked cookies, volunteered at church, hosted dinner parties where everyone had to use the right fork. Jake complained she was too controlling, but she seemed nice enough to me.
The morning I was supposed to pick up the package, Jake texted me: "DO NOT go before 2pm. Mom has a... thing." Weird instruction, but whatever.
I pulled up to their house at exactly 2:05. It was this picture-perfect colonial with manicured hedges and a "Blessed" sign hanging by the door. The driveway had four cars I didn't recognize - all luxury sedans with bumper stickers like "Proud Grandma" and "I'd Rather Be Gardening."
I rang the doorbell three times. Nobody answered, but I could hear music inside - not the classical stuff Mrs. Johnson usually played, but something with a heavy bass. I tried knocking louder, figuring maybe she couldn't hear me over the music.
The door was slightly open, so I poked my head in and called out, "Mrs. Johnson? It's Dylan, Jake's roommate!" Still nothing.
The inside of the house looked different. The religious paintings were gone, replaced with abstract art with lots of nud figures. Wine bottles and glasses covered the dining room table where the family Bible usually sat. A lacy bra hung from the chandelier.
I noticed Jake's sister's old bedroom door was open - it had been converted into some kind of... meditation room? There were crystals everywhere, incense burning, and a shelf full of books with titles like "Sxual Awakening After 50" and "Embracing Your Divine Feminine."
On the coffee table was a clipboard with a signup sheet. The header read "GODDESS CIRCLE - MEMBERS ONLY" with a list of women's names and what they were bringing. Mrs. Johnson was down for "ceremonial wine and hot tub."
That's when I remembered Jake's comment about his mom "finding herself" after his dad left last year. He'd rolled his eyes about her joining some women's group, but I hadn't thought much about it.
I step inside, feeling weird about it but thinking I'd just grab the package and go. That's when I heard splashing and laughing from the backyard.
Through the sliding glass door, I see Mrs. Johnson - this 55-year-old woman who always brought us cookies and called us "her boys" - completely unclothed in the hot tub with three other older women. They had wine glasses and were playing some kind of card game that had them howling with laughter.
As I stood there shocked, I noticed the package on the counter - wrapped in brown paper with "JAKE - PRIVATE" written on it. Next to it was an open envelope with what looked like airline tickets to Bali and brochures for something called "Liberation Retreat for Mothers and Sons."
The coffee table had a photo album open to pictures of Jake as a child - but with all his dad's face cut out of the photos. A journal lay open with Mrs. Johnson's handwriting: "Jake refuses to understand my journey. He's just like his father - closed-minded and afraid of female power."
I froze, not knowing what to do. Backing up, I knocked over a vase, and they all turned to see me standing there like an idiot.
Mrs. Johnson just smiled and waved like this was totally normal. "Oh, Dylan! Jake's package is on the kitchen counter. We're having our monthly book club."
I grabbed the box without even looking at them again and practically ran to my car. As I was pulling away, I could hear them all laughing even harder.
When Jake got back, he asked if I got his package. I just nodded and handed it to him. He looked at my face and frowned.
"You okay? Did you see my mom?"
"Yeah," I managed. "Saw a lot more of your mom than I was supposed to."
His face went white. "Oh god. Was it book club day?"