My Other Mother Ch. 08byAmeaner©
"So, ummm... are you going to tell me about it?"
" ... I'd rather not."
"Must've been pretty bad."
I only nodded and kept my face down, looking into my bowl as I chewed.
"You really can't tell me?"
"I just wanna forget about it."
" ... Alright. Do, uh... do you often have nightmares like that? Strange dreams?"
"Not really. You?"
"Sometimes. I used to have nightmares about my mother. It's to be expected, I guess."
I silently and wholeheartedly agreed while I continued to eat.
"You had me scared for a little while there. You wouldn't stop shaking."
"I'm just glad you were there."
"Me too. You know what, though? You're right. You should just put it out of your mind. People always do sooner or later anyway, don't they?"
"We've got nothing to be down about, things are looking up. We're gonna be okay, sweetie pie."
I looked up and smiled in reply, trying to enjoy hers while I harboured some pretty serious doubts about that prediction.
I was constantly on guard for rats, always thinking I was seeing them in the shifting shadows of the halogens while I worked. It made it hard to think but, after meeting Marie, I wanted to stop thinking aloud and the mindless work I was doing seemed to provide the right opportunity. No, Marie's disturbing, whispered conversations with her 'friend' weren't at all lost on me.
Something else that wasn't lost on me was how fortunate I was to not get thinking about the encounter the night before, to be able to allow Mum's company to take it away from my mind like her presence always did, even if she was the source of my troubles. I couldn't have hacked it. There was just no way that I could have assessed that meeting with Marie while her younger, spitting image sat in front of me, calling me 'sweetie pie'. In the cellar, though, there was ample time to think, distracted as I often was by rat shaped shadows at the corners of my eyes.
I now had a theory as to why Mum's behaviour didn't seem to match up with any known mental disorders, but as strong as the theory appeared to be, I resisted it. It mostly came from a person who was anything but sane, no matter which way one cared to cut the cake, and that's why it was still just a theory, one I didn't want to even entertain. That, and because that theory suggested that I was part of a line that passed on some... thing. Demon possession? In any case, the incredible theory scared the hell out of me and I was pretty anxious to stick both Marie and Mum into some kind of Psychiatric slot in order to disprove it. I called it 'the Jedi theory'.
The evidence supporting the Jedi theory, first of all, was that damned dream where Marx told me to check the shoreline and how that odd moment on the sidewalk in front of the old man that night convinced me she was right, leading me to Shoreline Residential Facility. I was finding it a lot harder to chalk that up to weird coincidence after my visit with Grammie Marie, however, I could also argue that I'd naturally feel that way after a very disturbing encounter with a deranged lunatic. My instincts, though, told me otherwise.
Second was the way she knew which of her daughters I belonged to by my smell. I couldn't explain that away and the fact that Mum smelled 'something' when I got home didn't help, even though that could be easily explained away by some draft coming through the window from the pulp mill, the refinery, docks, etc.. She was originally from Saint John (the tide brings us back) and it was very possible that some smell she'd experienced from childhood was still around town and who knew what it could be? But my instincts told me I could ignore those safe, sane explanations, told me with no uncertainty that she smelled Marie on me, and having no explanation at all for Marie's talented sniffer...
Third was Audrey and Maureen, but especially Audrey. They were both afraid of her. I had no doubt of that and neither did I doubt their implied expertise and experience in their field. Maureen felt the same way as her co-worker, she just wouldn't admit it, and her co-worker sure did have some pretty concrete opinions about what was wrong with my grandmother, didn't she? Audrey's claims about nightmares of Marie weren't in any doubt within my mind either, not after the night before, and this meant that there was reason to believe her other claims as well. That is unless Audrey and Maureen, two experienced, professional caregivers, were as crazy as their residents and their objectivity had been compromised. My instincts doubted this.
Fourth, those damned eyes. Nothing one could put their finger on, nothing to them that would allow a person to point and make an actual description, just that implied darkness. There was no explanation for this that I could think of and my instincts were very clear about how they felt about this, as they were concerning...
Fifth, she fucking bewitched me. She could have gouged my eyes out with a paring knife if she'd wanted to, I never would've seen it coming. It was an extreme, theoretically advanced version of Mum's eyes and the way people seemed to react to them at times. There was definitely no rational explanation for point number five and it was, in fact, the strongest supporting evidence of the Jedi theory.
Everything else could be explained away. For example, Mum could well have heard her mother use the affectation, 'sweetie pie', when she was a girl, probably with my dead grandfather Walton. The fact that Marie did drink regularly when she was younger didn't really prove anything of the Jedi theory, despite the commonality it showed. Marie's ageless beauty wasn't entirely uncommon, no more than Mum's, and neither were striking family resemblances, no matter how striking they sometimes were. It happened.
Aside from all this, I knew a little more about Sheila. Marie claimed she wasn't a "real Jedi", which made me wonder all the more as I lugged a full bucket of moist dirt/mud to the window. After hoisting it up to the sill and taking a cautionary look around for rats, I headed back to the bank with an empty pail in return, mulling these things over.
During our thirty minute lunch break, while the ten of us sat in a line on the warm sidewalk with our backs to the wall, I had no real useful answers that I didn't have before my visit with Marie, however I at least had my wild, unsubstantiated and likely un-provable theory. This, of course, presented a problem, especially for someone like me.
You see, if the Jedi theory were at least plausible within known science, I would then have had a direction to go in with my little investigation into how best to keep my promise to Mum. But it wasn't like that, was it? It was like being asked to believe that 'Bigfoot done it.'
"You been quiet today," Andy noted.
I continued chewing, looking out to the street before I turned to him, swallowed and asked, "How do you define the word, 'Science'?"
" ... Evolution? I hear people say they believe in science instead of God, so..."
"Okay. If you wanted to find out for sure, if you had to, how would you? What method would you use?"
" ... Science."
"A tool to prove a tool?"
"I dunno, I guess."
"Science is a tool. More like a toolbox. It's what Humanity has always used in one form or another to understand the world around them. Pure science is the proper application of all the tools in your box in an honest search for truth, or understanding. It's an exploration."
" ... O-kaaay?"
"So, when we gather evidence and begin to speculate, drawing lines between the dots and guesstimating about where the missing dots of evidence should be, making the lines draw a picture you believe is there based on current evidence, you have a theory. Such as the theory of evolution."
"Once we believe in a theory, we start gathering evidence in order to support it rather than on the basis of truth and exploration; we're no longer using science. Not pure science, anyway. But that's what modern science has become. It's easy to see why, I guess."
" ... And... why's that?"
"Because some possible truths can be personally disturbing, even while defying evidence and, for all the world, can sound like silly bullshit, much the same way a lot of Atheists think of the possibility that a creator exists."
"Yeah, but that's just another theory."
"Yup. And in between is pure exploration. Or speculation, take your pick."
"So, what's your point?"
" ... My point is... What happens if pure science leads us from in between to a point where it looks more and more likely that God really does exist and that evolution and Atheism was only ever a fool's paradise? What do we do then?"
" ... Start believing in God?"
"Yeah, but people would still resist. We've been run through the modern school system and truth is what we're told, not what we know. We'd resist because we want to hide in what's not beyond our scope of imagination, our ability to conceptualize with our technology, our science. I mean, how do we progress once that stuff is no longer useful, right?"
"Change our science?"
" ... I suppose, yeah. We'd have to embrace the theory of God, not as a theory so much, but... an understanding to work towards. A hunch. Like detectives do on TV. And then... say we find out God really does exist with all the evidence you'd want and that everything taught in school and society was dead wrong for sure? What if we even find out He's not what anybody thought He was based on what any religion ever told us, if He's something none of us ever could have imagined? Then what?"
"That's easy, dude. That's when we get ready to start dealing with some pret-ty fuckin' heavy shit."
" ... Yeah. And hope that we can."
A little less than ten minutes later, I was watching him steal glances at me out of the corner of my eye as we waited to be the next ones to crawl back through the window and into the cellar. Just before I went to get down and crawl through feet first, he took my elbow.
"Do you believe in God?"
" ... It might be a good idea."
I caught him glancing at me off and on for the rest of the day, he as silent as I was while we worked. If he knew that the subject matter of our conversation was only an analogy, if he had any clue of what was really on my mind, or even how I'd used him to replace my own little friend in my musings...
When I crawled out of the cellar for the last time that day at five, I had a direction. I would embrace the Jedi theory as mystery and investigate the unanswered questions that surrounded it as honestly as I could like a good detective. As frightening and also ridiculous as the prospect was, I had to take it seriously while always leaving room for the possibility that it was as foolish as it appeared, as it had to be. In any case, I was at a loss for any other direction and my instincts agreed.
I walked straight home, refusing to mumble under my breath about it, reminding myself that I had a vested interest in keeping it together. Or resisting the possible trappings of the thing that Marie said lived and grew within me.
"Do you like the movies, Mum?" I asked lightly over supper.
She looked fantastic again in a short, off-white, snug sweater that buttoned up the front, but not so high as to hide her impressive cleavage. She also wore her gray, stretchy casual pants with a nice pair of black high heels, her hair and makeup somehow done to incorporate sexy and chaste at the same time.
"Well yeah, you know I do. Don't you remember all those movies we watched together when you were, um, grounded?"
"No, I mean the theaters. Do you like going there?"
"I used to when I was a girl. We saw all kinds back then."
"Yeah? Any notables?"
"Hmm. Aside from the obvious, that being Star Wars, I liked The Shining."
"Star Wars? Why's that the obvious, was it your favourite?"
"Mum's favourite. She insisted on seeing them five flippin' times in a row."
"What about Star Trek?"
"No. She usually didn't like Sci-Fi, more Fantasy, but Star Wars really appealed to her."
"It does have that fantasy side to it."
"Yeah. ... She used to tell us that she was our dark Sith Master and that we'd better do as we were told, or she'd have us throw ourselves down the well. She used to scare the life out of us with that stuff. Even Ashleigh and she was older than us. None of us wanted the Star Wars action figures and toys and stuff."
"I don't imagine. You must hate those movies."
"Actually, they are pretty good. I just don't like to be reminded."
"She spoiled it for you."
"Along with so many other things."
"How old were you at the time?"
"I don't know... about seven or eight when Star Wars was released, a few years older when The Empire Strikes Back was."
" ... Did you believe her?"
" ... Yes, I did."
"I guess any seven or eight year old would, huh?"
" ... Yeah... Well, she was pretty strange, too."
"I remember you told me. By the way, I ask because I've never been to a movie theater and I thought you might want to go, but not if it's going to make you feel... you know."
"I'd love to go to the movies with you, hon, just no Star Wars."
"No problem. When can we go?"
"Hmmm... maybe this weekend, depends on what all is going on. Speaking of that, I'll be pretty busy this weekend."
"If it's a bother-"
"No, it's no bother, I'd really love to cuddle up to you in a dark movie theater, but we'll have to see if I can make it turn out, okay?"
"No problem, sweetie pie."
We didn't say much afterwards, but I could tell her mood had darkened. She lit a cigarette after her meal and dragged her chair to the open window where she sat, looking thoughtfully outside and down to the street while I checked out the weather on TV.
"I haven't thought of that in years, that whole Star Wars thing with Mum." she said out of the blue.
"Don't let it get you down, Mum, it was just... her crazies."
" ... Yeah... Kinda funny, now that I think of it, though. After all these years and since..."
Mum faced me with that thoughtful expression I was so familiar with and replied, "I always believed it. I never really stopped believing she was a Sith Master of some sort and neither did Sheila or Ashleigh, I don't think. Not really."
"It would be a lot harder to put away than a nightmare," I offered.
" ... Hmm. Speaking of nightmares?"
"Oh, I'm good. It went away like they always do, just like you said."
"Good. Yeah, they always go away. It's the waking nightmares we have to watch out for. Ones like parents who seem able to make you... Ugh! Let's just drop it. Of all the things we might choose to worry about, my freakish mother should be the last of them. What are you watching?"
"Weather. My boss says the soup we work in is caused by runoff and says we better pray we can finish the job before the next time we get a hard rain."
"He's your employer, not your boss, sweetie pie. I'm your boss. Like you're mine."
I couldn't help but smile at this, knowing it was true and glad it was.
"C'mere and give Mummy a kiss."
I not only gave her a nice warm kiss on the lips, but a big hug as well. Leaving her with a smile, I returned to finish my own meal, hard as hell after feeling her body so close to mine. Finishing up a couple minutes later, I rose and hopped up on the bed, looking over at her as she continued to look out the window, her mood brightened again.
"C'mon, Mum. I wanna play with your body again, okay?" I only half asked with a grin.
"Best offer I've had all day," she said, her smile having returned as she exhaled, popping the cigarette butt out the window.
She joined me on the bed, both of us laughing a little as we tried to maneuver across from one another on our knees without creating a sinkhole, our smiles full of anticipation for each other. Without hesitation I put my hand between her legs and squeezed gently the way she liked, getting an instant and positive reaction from her features.
"Oh, baby... I love how you've become so bold with your mum."
"It's fun," I agreed with a smile. "You're so slutty and I love playing with your cunt."
"Mmmm. Ooooh, that feels so... (sigh)"
"Spread your legs further."
She did so while I un-zippered the front of her pants, slipping my hand inside and rubbing her mound slowly up and down through the front of her panties, stopping to gently squeeze and then let go every now and then while per pelvis rolled, eyelids fluttering with pleasure.
"Unbutton your shirt and play with your tits."
Again Mum complied, spreading her thin sweater open while breathing hard, haltingly, showing me her pink cotton, underwire bra. Her nipples predictably stood at attention behind the thin cups as she began caressing her big melons, squeezing and pushing them against her chest, sighing deeply. Grabbing her nipples through the cotton, she tweaked and pulled until it looked like it had to hurt, but she only moaned, closing her eyes.
I loved watching this, watching her act this way and breathed, "Oh my god, you're such a filthy girl."
"Ohhh, baby," she whimpered.
"Tell me what a filthy little thing you are, Mum."
"Oh, ff-! ... Oh god, sweetie pie, I'm such a filthy slut! Ooooooh, yeah, I'm so kinky and horny!"
"You're just a cumslut, aren't you?"
She was back to squeezing those wonderful tits, one of her nipples having made its way out of her bra and peeking at me from between two of her fingers.
"Mum, get your tits out and suck your nipples."
"Mmmm. Oh, sw- "Ohh...! Y-yes, rub Mummy's clit!"
In the midst of her passionate throes, I wasn't even sure she heard me, but she obediently spilled her breasts from their restraints, picking one up and dipping her head to lick and suck at her rubbery hard bud. Leaning forward, I took the other one between my lips and gave it the same treatment. After a few minutes, we switched and after that I began helping her on the same one. By then she was worked up pretty well, pushing herself into my hand as I rubbed harder, unfastening the button at the top of her open zipper and going straight down the front of her panties.
"Oh, yeah! Ooooh, yeah!," she gasped.
I kept working her, rubbing her pussy, tracing around her clitoris and sucking her nipple with her until she came, a long, low intensity orgasm that had her almost crying with release. Groaning and straining, she finally fell backwards to the bed when she was done, knees in the air, tits exposed, pants opened.
I wanted to fuck her so bad right then. Instead, I removed my pants, watching her watch me as she continued playing with her nipples, dreamily licking her lips as she recovered herself. When I was done, I moved between her legs, slowly spreading her knees with no resistance from her at all.
It was something I'd never get over, the rights I had to her body, and never get enough of. My rocket bobbed and waggled as she watched, she grabbing and stroking it when I told her to. A minute later, it was me who was groaning, almost doubling over with each massive shot as she got me off with her hand, making me spurt again and again over her luscious breasts, sweater and panties. When we were done, she began picking it all up with a finger, sucking it clean in her mouth with a big smile before going back for more of the white, gooey jism.
"You're so dirty," I said with a smile as we lay, holding one another afterwards. "So beautiful and smart. So much fun to be with."
"Mmmm, sweetie pie..." she crooned, playing with one of my nipples. "You're so good to me."