Beyond the Borderline

"I'd need to think about it."

"That's cool. Why don't you check out the movies on the web and let me know tomorrow? If it's not your cup of tea, no big deal."

"Okay, talk to you then Rick."

Grace caught up with me the next morning between third and fourth period, stopping me by my locker.

"Hey, Rick."

"Hey, Grace. What's up?"

She looked at me very directly, watching my face intently as she spoke. "You know Rick, when you asked me out yesterday, my first thought was to just say no. A lot of the girls I know say you're arrogant and full of yourself, but I'm not so sure. The movies sound really interesting. They're not your ordinary date stuff and I'm kind of flattered you thought of me to go see them with you." She smiled suddenly, her face lighting up. "I don't think you're stuck up, you're just different, and I kind of like that. It's a date," she concluded.

"Great. Pick you up at 6:30?"

"I'll be ready."

***

When I got home, I told Mom I wanted to borrow the car Friday for my date. I'm quite sure she was actually more excited than I was, and maybe also a bit relieved. That apparent relief actually hurt a little, but for the first time, I began to understand a little what pressure she might be experiencing from my not so secret yearnings. It was a sad feeling.

Her face broke out in a large smile as I told her my plans, her eyes sparkling. "That's wonderful, Ricky! Who are you going out with? What are you going to do? Details, son, I wants details," she exclaimed, her voice quickening with excitement.

"Relax, Mom. It's just a first date, no big deal. I'm taking Grace Kim over to the college to see 'Pan's Labyrinth and 'La Belle et la Bête,' okay?"

"Well, that's a pretty unusual but pretty original first date. You certainly seem to do things your own way, and you definitely aim high in your choice of women, hotshot."

"I always do, Mom," I said quietly. Realizing that comment might lead to a conversation neither of us wanted to have, I quickly changed the subject.

"Grace seems very nice, Mom. I think she's just about the smartest and prettiest girl at school. I like her because she doesn't play stupid games and doesn't bullshit."

"Watch your language, Ricky. Don't forget that a little 'game playing' is part of the landscape when you date. You need to get used to that."

"We've been over this before, Mom," I said with some heat. "I don't feel like wasting my time with girls who have agendas and aren't really interested in me beyond my looks or for status. Besides, why do you think I feel this way? One of the reasons I love you and Nana so much is because you both talk straight and are always honest." I was very careful to include Nana in my remarks to draw attention away from my real reasons.

Mom seemed to buy into my diversion, sighing and raising her hand in surrender. "Just be realistic, okay sweetie?" She seemed to pause, considering her words carefully. "You're a horse of a different color, you know. Most boys really lag girls in emotional maturity at your age. You seem to be ahead of the curve. I don't know if it's good or bad, but I think it's because of other...things, things between us, from before. I worry about that still, you know."

I put on my best charming salesman smile and squeezed her hand. "Don't worry about me, Mom. I'm fine and we're fine. You know I'd cut off my arm before I'd do anything to hurt or upset you."

"Thank you, Ricky," she said softly.

"And I can still talk to you, ask you if I have any questions about, you know, stuff?"

Her face lit up and she smiled. "Of course, Ricky. I'll always be here for you - anything you want to talk about, any time."

"Cool. Thanks, Mom."

Somewhat to my surprise, Grace and I really clicked during the first date. She was clearly enthralled by the movies, not ever really having been exposed to classic cinema before. I was a bit surprised and rather gratified when her hand sought and found mine during the monster scene in Pan's Labyrinth. That creature with eyes in the palms of his hands still creeps me out to this day.

We had a lively discussion about the movies over pizza and soda afterwards and I think she was impressed with my interest and passion for film history. We walked back to Mom's car holding hands and I actually got a rather nice, if chaste, goodnight kiss when I dropped her off at her home.

On the way back to our house, my male ego was preening a bit, seeming to say, "Yeah, dude, you got what it takes, you can do this!"

But as I basked in a bit of self-congratulation, images I had of Grace and me in my head, kissing, doing other things, faded to be replaced my true north star. Even after a very nice date with the prettiest girl in my school, Mom remained foremost in my thoughts.

Even so, after just a few weeks of dating, we became quite close, immediately feeling very comfortable with each other. I think Grace liked my laid-back, no pressure approach to our relationship and I appreciated her straightforward, occasionally blunt honesty. I don't think I was ever in love, but I did have great affection for her and truly valued her friendship. She was also a fantastic kisser. We became an item, to the surprise of many of our mutual friends and continued to see each other through the end of high school.

***

The early summer following my junior year in high school marked a tremendous change in my life and Mom's. I was within weeks of my eighteenth birthday. We had been still living with Gramps and Nana, I think by their mutual agreement, so I could have something that resembled the typical nuclear family around me. But that June, Gramps had started making serious noises about retirement. He and Nana were looking forward to getting out and doing some traveling, living their own lives again, I'm sure. About that time, Mom got her first partner's bonus, which helped make her decision. She announced her intentions following a Sunday dinner, surprising the heck out of everyone, myself included.

"Mom, Dad, I've signed a contract to purchase a home over on Middlebury Drive," she informed us firmly. "It's time for us to get out of your way and live our own lives."

In the past, on several occasions Mom and Gramps had "discussions" about moving out, which usually ended when he would say something like "What about Ricky? I don't want to see either of you go anywhere right now. I never thought that I would want to be a parent again, but having you two around has been a blessing, and I feel Rick is as much a son to me as he is to you, Jenny. If you want to pay rent, I suppose I could live with that, but why make a big change? This will also allow you to save and invest more of your income for a couple of years." It was a very sensible, persuasive argument, which had prevailed in the past whenever the subject came up.

I think Gramps sensed that this time the situation was different. Mom was well established in her career, had saved a very respectable nest egg and I was graduating in a year. The usual arguments from him were not forthcoming.

I believe that Mom was primed for another "discussion" and was surprised when Gramps simply congratulated her.

Of course, I was over the moon. Our own place! Just my beautiful mother and me! My mind whirled with forbidden scenarios and lecherous possibilities. I was raring to go. "Mom, when can we go see it? I can hardly wait!"

"Closing will be in two weeks and the house is vacant, so we'll move then."

"But when can we see it? I don't know if I can wait two weeks!"

"I suppose a look won't hurt. I'll see if the realtor will let us do a walk through tomorrow after work."

"Mom, that would be so cool. Thanks!"

You would have thought I was 5 years old on Christmas Eve, I was so excited. I was on pins and needles until the next afternoon.

When we got to the house, I found that Mom had been holding out on me. The home itself was nothing out of the ordinary, a well-maintained colonial, painted simply in white, with dark navy shutters. It was a modest three bedrooms, with a nice front yard, shaded by 2 large, old maple trees and fronted with a well-tended lawn. But the backyard, that was the kicker. We had a pool! I was floored. It was big enough for decent lap swimming and a high privacy fence enclosed the entire yard, with additional screening provided by an even higher hedge, which encompassed the whole perimeter.

"Mom, that's totally awesome! I can't believe you did this for us!" I gathered her up in a big hug and spun her around.

"Ooof! Easy there, hotshot!" Her eyes sparkled as I let her down. "Before you go off the deep end, so to speak, just remember that YOU are going to be the pool boy around here. That is going to be your responsibility, ok?"

"I'm all over it, Mom. This is just off the charts!"

"If you drool over this much more, you'll get dehydrated. Let's go inside."

As we explored, I could see that Mom had put a lot of thought into her choice. The basement was built out into a very nice family room. The third bedroom was going to ideal for a home office for her after hours practice work. The master suite and my room were right across the hall from each other (Down, boy! Bad horndog!) When we reached the kitchen, I could see Mom's master plan at work again. It was actually significantly nicer than the rest of the house and had obviously been recently remodeled. Mom watched me out of the corner of her eye as I took visual inventory.

"I like it almost as much as the pool, Mom. We'll have a lot of fun with this."

"It turns out that the previous owners were pretty serious foodies," Mom said. "I was fairly sure that you wouldn't have any objections to a professionally equipped kitchen," she added with a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile.

I turned to Mom and hugged her again (any excuse!) "I love you, Mom. I can tell you were thinking about me a lot when you made this choice. I really don't know what to say. I'm blown away."

She squeezed me back and then disengaged herself firmly. "You already said everything you needed with those first four words, Ricky. I think we'll be pretty happy here."

In less than three weeks, we were moved. Our first night together in the house was two days after my eighteenth birthday, which we had celebrated in style, going into the city with Grace for a small film festival at NYU and eating Peking Duck at my favorite Chinese restaurant off Mott Street. I had the pleasure of helping Mom spend some of her bonus check on furnishings, having taken on the terribly onerous responsibilities of putting an entertainment center together. We had a seriously good time hitting all of the various and sundry cooking stores, equipping our new kitchen exactly as we wanted. Through the process, I was continually struck by how closely our likes and dislikes meshed. It was actually really neat and unsettling at the same time. Once again, I found it becoming very difficult to maintain an outwardly filial attitude towards Mom, as in my secret heart I was struggling with the feeling that we were becoming more and more of a couple.

My secret emotions and desires aside, we really did have a very happy start in the new house. Unfortunately, it only lasted a few weeks.

***

We had just finished dinner and were sitting in the breakfast nook sipping a little coffee together. Mom was a little antsy, having been waiting to hear from Gramps and Nana, who were in transit to a week at Saranac Lake for a well-deserved vacation. Gramps had already put in his papers and was using up his accumulated PTO. Nana had already begun gathering a voluminous quantity of cruise brochures.

When the doorbell rang, Mom said, "I'll get it. Why don't you clear the table?"

I couldn't hear much of the low conversation in the entryway because I had the water running in the sink as I was loading the dishwasher. It was then I heard Mom shriek.

"Oh my God! No! No! Noooo!"

I dashed around the corner, sliding into the front hallway. It was then I saw the state trooper in the doorway, and I knew.

I ran towards Mom as she began to sway, reaching her just in time to lower her to the floor as she sobbed in grief.

"I'm very sorry for you loss."

"What happened, officer?" I croaked.

"There was a multiple vehicle accident on the Taconic Parkway -- your grandparents were killed. It involved a tanker truck. There was a fire. We would have gotten in touch with you sooner, but there were...difficulties, in uh, identifying the victims. I'm truly sorry, son. Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked, unable to meet our eyes.

"I...I...don't think so, officer. Uh, uh, actually I...don't really know," I admitted.

"Your mom looks to be in a bad way, son. Just stay with her for now. When you've got her settled, make sure you get a hold of her employer - she'll need time off. If you know who her folks' attorney was, you'll need to talk to him or her as well, to find out about a will, if there is any. Mostly, you should be with her - she'll need you."

"Thanks. I'll do that."

"You folks take care. Here's my card. If your mother wants to talk to me later, or if her parent's attorney needs any details, please call me. I mean that. I'm truly sorry. I really hate this part of my job, you know," he confessed, voice tight.

Mom struggled to her feet and I took her elbow to assist her up. Rallying herself momentarily, she took the card from my hand, glancing at it briefly. "Thank you, officer...Bennett. You've been kind and as tactful as the situation allowed you to be. We have things we need to do now, if you'll excuse us."

Trooper Bennett nodded and went out the door, closing it very softly behind him as he departed. I turned to Mom, putting my arm around her shoulders.

"Let's go sit down for a minute, Mom." I led her into the living room, where we sat on the sofa. She held herself upright and immobile, looking out the window into the front yard with a thousand yard stare. Tears welled silently from her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks and onto her arms as she hugged herself and rocked back and forth. I simply held her, not trusting myself to speak.

My own emotions were in chaos. For all practical purposes, Nana and Gramps had been my parents just as much as Mom. For them to be suddenly just...gone...was beyond any comprehension I could muster. It felt absolutely unreal, like it was happening to another person. I seemed to be totally outside myself, numb to the events. I wondered if there was something wrong or missing within me. The shock was so enormous I simply couldn't react to the news. As I directed my thoughts outward again, looking at Mom, there was nothing I could think of to say, so I just hugged her, pulling her head onto my chest.

We sat together like that for quite a while, probably an hour or two. Subjective time seemed to condense as the shadows lengthened and dusk swallowed the outside world. It was now full dark. Mom was spent, head resting in my lap, one arm curled around my waist while she dozed. I had one arm around her upper waist while I stroked her hair with my free hand. A slight evening breeze stirred the living room drapes in desultory fashion, bringing with it the occasional whoosh of a passing car and the steady background of chirping crickets, the sheer normalcy of the summer night compounding our personal tragedy.

Gradually, Mom stirred and came to herself. "I need to get ready for bed," she said in a monotone. Without another word, she stood and walked slowly upstairs. I went to her office and rummaged through her purse until I found her Blackberry. Paging through the directory, I found a number for her practice. I called and left a message on voice mail, explaining we had a family emergency and that Mom would not be in the following day.

Going to my room, I could see Mom's door was already closed. I knocked gently. "Are you okay, Mom?"

"I'm fine, Ricky, go to bed, get some sleep."

"Let me know if you need anything, Mom. I mean it, anything, okay?"

" I just need to rest right now," she said, her voice flat and emotionless.

I went to my room and proceeded to toss and turn for hours. Finally sleep took me, my dreams worse than my waking thoughts. Some undetermined time later, I was startled awake in deep darkness. The alarm at my bedside read 3:25. Mom was sitting on the edge of my bed, eyes red, and her face haggard. Holding my hand. She whispered, "I'm sorry Ricky, I can't seem to get to sleep."

"That's okay, Mom." I covered myself with the blanket and sheets, sliding to the edge of my bed, against the wall, patting the mattress next to me. "Snuggle up here, if you like."

"Thanks," she said, with a ghost of a smile. She lay down on top of the covers, spooning up against me. I put my arms around her, drawing her close, rotating my hips slightly to conceal my totally inappropriate hard on.

I held her tightly with one arm and gently stroked her shoulders with my free hand. I whispered in her ear, "It's all right Mom, you can sleep now. I love you."

Within minutes, she had relaxed, her breathing slow and regular, but I couldn't fall asleep to save my life. I tasted black, bitter irony, knowing I would have signed a contract in blood only a day ago to get my beautiful mother in my bed like this, but now having to put all of my lustful-loving thoughts into the deep freeze.

Thank God she was wearing man pajamas. Anything more feminine and I would have been in deep, deep trouble. Sighing, I scrunched down under the covers, trying to keep my straining cock away from her buttocks.

Eventually, I fell asleep, only to be jolted awake by the ringing of our phone. I struggled awake, the room a blur as I tried to blink away the residue of dried tears in my eyes.

My alarm said it was 8:00. Mom was still out like a light, but had somehow turned around during her sleep so she was facing me, one arm around my torso, her face close to my chest. I could feel the moist warmth of her breath across my pecs as she exhaled every breath. I was suddenly aware of how huge my morning wood was, only inches from the front of her thighs.

The phone continued to ring. Grumbling under my breath, I quickly and gingerly worked my way from under the covers. As I straddled Mom's form on all fours, struggling to get to the edge of the bed without waking her, my cock popped out of my pajama bottoms in all its early morning glory. Mom's breathing changed and she seemed to stir. Cursing silently, I essentially rolled the rest of the way off the bed, hitting the floor with a soft thump as I stuffed Mr. Johnson back where he belonged. I then rushed quickly to the kitchen to get the phone.

The call was from Mr. Briggs, one of the senior partners at Mom's firm.

"Hi. This is Art Briggs. Is this Rick I'm speaking to?"

"Yessir."

"We got your message from last night," he said in a concerned voice. "Is Jennifer all right?"

"She's sleeping right now. She had a rough night."

"If I may, could you tell me what's happened?"

Having to actually say it out loud proved to be nearly impossible. My voice broke and I could not hide my anguish. "My grandparents were killed in an accident yesterday..." I couldn't continue.

"Dear God. This is terrible, terrible news. I'm so sorry, Rick. I know from things your mother has said that you were all quite close." Clearly struggling to marshal his thoughts, he asked, "Please let me know what we can do to help."

"I'm not really sure, Mr. Briggs. I guess we need to make funeral arrangements and stuff like that, but I need to talk with Mom before anything else. Can I have her call you back when she wakes up?"

"Please do. Anything we can do, anything at all, she just has to ask. Have her call my private line when she gets up, I'll be waiting."

"Thanks."

"Take care, son. We're all thinking about you. Don't forget, anything you need, any questions, that goes for the both of you. If you need someone to talk to, I'm available any time. Let me give you my private number."