Wouldn't You?

Edited by femadorer

[ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18. All characters are fictional and any resemblance to real or other fictional characters is coincidence and unintentional.]



Ok, I'll admit I may have overreacted. But seriously - do you blame me? Mom didn't, and truthfully, that's all that matters to me.

What am I talking about? Oh, I'm sorry. Let me back up some. I am Dink, and unlike my older sister I didn't excel, or apply myself, in high school. I am paying the consequences by still living at home with mom and my father. I am attending community college, while everyone else had gone to a real college or university. I've learned my lesson, am working hard to graduate, and transfer to the state university.

I was looking forward to moving out of the house because I fucking HATED my father. Is that wrong to say? Then I'm sorry, but it's true. To me, he's a 48-year-old Piece of Shit. I know I'm cursing too much and I apologize, it's just that talking about him infuriates me. What drove me even battier was that my mother couldn't see what a turd he is.

As to mom, well I love her. My mother is part Norwegian and part Portuguese, an unusual mix huh?! The result was amazing though. From Grandpa Jan she inherited that pale skin, his brilliant blue eyes, and that Nordic build – where she's somehow tall (5'7"), slim, and athletic. From vó Estela, mom got those long straight raven locks common to those of Mediterranean descend, her smile, and laugh.

I'm also in love with her, which is why I hated seeing her with my father. I wanted her to be with me, but felt anyone was better than my father. I'd tell her how she could do so much better than him, that she didn't have to stay with him. My mother even made more money than he did! Yet mom would always tell me, "Oh Dink, you don't see the good in him." Or it would be, "It's just because you two can't get along that you feel that way," or some other lame excuse."

Or maybe it was just the fact that he got to go to bed with her every night.

One day, it all changed. My last two classes were cancelled due to a campus wide computer problem. That was fine with me since I could hear my bed calling to me, and an afternoon nap sounded wonderful. As I pulled up to our house, I saw a car I did not recognize, a white Volkswagen Beetle, parked in our driveway. Something didn't sit right with me; I was suspicious that something squirrelly was going on at our home.

As a 20 year old with too much testosterone, I took it upon myself to investigate what was happening. Having taken boxing and martial art classes since I was eight (at my father's urging), I was determined to defend my home. Driving past our house, I parked two houses down. Walking back, I let myself in through the side door of the garage. Immediately, I noticed the house alarm was not on. I crept into the house via the laundry room and into the kitchen. The house was quiet. Looking around, the downstairs was empty. I quietly ascended the stairs, avoiding the fourth step that always squeaked. At the top of the stairs, on the right is my bedroom. My door was open and the room dark. Same for the bathroom directly in front of the stairs and my sister's room to the left of the bathroom. At the end of the hallway was my parent's bedroom. The door was closed, but from the darkness of the hallway I could see light peeking out from underneath.

Having watched too many cop shows, I slid along the wall treading lightly on the carpeted floor. I couldn't hear anything, but could've sworn I saw the shafts of light shifting. Reaching my parent's door, I put my hand on the doorknob. I turned it ever so slowly. When the doorknob was turned fully, I held the door closed. I continued to try to hear something, anything; but all I heard was my heart racing in my chest. I hadn't realized it before, but I was sweating profusely. It was threatening to run into my eyes, but I was too nervous to wipe it away. Then I heard it. A muffled voice that sounded feminine and may have said, "Tony stop." I was paralyzed wondering if I had imagined it. I waited, hoping to hear anything. The pounding of my heart thundered in my ears. Then I heard that word that would change my entire life.

"STOP!" A woman's voice shrieked. Without realizing what I was doing, I charged into my parent's room; yet somehow knowing that voice wasn't mom's. Flying into the room, my mind processed the information faster than I could formulate thoughts. I saw the backside of a bloated bleached whale that turned out to be my father. He seemed to have an extra set of legs that faced the wrong direction. I heard a scream and suddenly I was at the side of bed. Grabbing a handful of my father's balding hair with my left hand, I yanked him back. In an instant, I saw a woman's face, some woman's face. I knew for certain it wasn't mom's, maybe I didn't know her. It didn't matter, I didn't care.

Looking into my father's face, I saw shock. That was until he saw my right hand collide with it. There was a sickening crunching sound; but I wasn't done. Using the momentum from my punch, I was able to swing my father from the bed with my left hand. He collapsed upon the floor, and then attempted to scramble to his hands and knees. The years of hatred burned within me. Fueled by rage, I attempted to punt my father's skull into next week. I was rewarded with seeing his head snap back and a mixture of spit, blood and teeth went flying skywards.

"I'll fucking kill you," I bellowed, and stomped down on his skull trying to flatten it into the floor.

"I'll fucking kill you," I screamed loud enough for his ancestors to hear. I kicked with all my might and landed a blow any MMA fighter would be proud of. Into his ribs, my foot drove. I was rewarded with a sickening, 'Ooof.'

"I'll fucking kill you," I promised. Then as I prepared to deliver another rib-breaking kick to his inert form, I heard a crash and the world turned black.

Returning to this planet, I heard a male voice say, "You alright, son?" Hearing a male call me 'son' reignited my fury.

"I'll fucking kill you," I yelled and attempted to make true on my promise. Whereas before my mind was processing information at light-speed, now my thoughts were sluggish and confused. I couldn't locate my father and there was a mass restraining me. Somehow, I got out from under the weight atop me and went to chase down my father, whom I must've believed fled down the hallway. Running down the hallway, I heard that male voice yell, "Stop him."

Reaching the top of the stairs my body betrayed me. My legs flew in opposite directions, my arms flailed uselessly, my teeth sizzled and my spine attempted to create a backwards C. I collapsed to the floor. Still my rage burned. I attempted to get to my knees muttering, "motha-fucka." Again, my body betrayed me as every joint seemed to flex in the wrong way. I rolled on the floor and crashed into the banisters that overlook the downstairs foyer. My body again crackled with life, and miraculously I was flying. That is until I saw the ceramic tiles downstairs rushing up to meet me. As my shoulder kissed the tile, lightning shot through me and the blackness welcomed me.

The next time I opened my eyes, I saw my mom standing over me. She somehow looked both relieved and concerned. My body matched her by feeling both numb and aching. I realized I wasn't home, but didn't know where I was. Groggily, I mumbled, "Where am I? What happened?"

Mom explained that I was in the hospital, "...although, somehow, nothing's broken, you've been floating in and out of consciousness." She explained how, "That whore broke my vase over your head, then those fucking cops tazered you till you crashed through the upstairs' balcony. We're gonna sue those bastards, just watch."

My avenging angel explained the damage my rampage had caused to my father. She told me that I was being charged with assault. She explained that since it was a domestic violence case, I couldn't get bail. Mom continued, "...don't worry sweetie, we'll get through this together." and how, "...that piece of shit will never step foot in my house again." My head throbbed and I had trouble comprehending the severity of what mom was saying. I knew things were seriously messed up because this was the first time in twenty years I had heard my mother curse!

The caring son I am, I earnestly promised, "Mom, I won't let anyone hurt you...ever."

With a smiling chuckle mom said, "I know," and kissed me on the forehead. Then she held her head about six inches away. I could see worry in her ice-blue eyes, then she smiled and that worry was replaced with determination. Mom gave me a quick kiss, just a peck on the lips, and I burned for more. Straightening up, she said, "I have to go, but I'll be back." When she got to the door of my hospital room, she turned back and said, "And don't worry, we'll get through this together, I love you."

After she left, I realized how alone I felt and that my right hand was handcuffed to the bed.

Since I was able to remain conscience, the doctors cleared me and I was promptly transferred to the county's jail. Upon arriving, I sat in a bullpen with 30 others while 8-10 c.o.'s seemed to do nothing for hours. After six hours of this fun, I traded my open-in-the-back hospital gown for an orange jumpsuit with INMATE down the right leg and blue dock shoes. (Besides NASA astronauts and inmates, who else wears orange jumpsuits that they needed to identify me as an inmate?) After changing, I was handcuffed and escorted to "the pods."

Now I can't speak of anywhere else but it resembled nothing like the hells they show on TV. There was this large dayroom with stainless steel tables with attached seats bolted to the floor. Surrounding it was two levels of thirty cells each, with the bars facing outwards. In the dayroom, you do everything from eating all your meals with a plastic spork; watch TV; play cards or board games; or simply watch the clock tick bye. Besides the food ranging from atrocious to inedible, the worse thing was the boredom. The only times you left the 'pod' was for an hour in a 'yard' - that wasn't anything but a basketball court and a volleyball court. Occasionally there would be a basketball out there, but I never saw a volleyball. Mostly you just shuffled around in a counter-clockwise fashion – I never understood why counter-clockwise, but that's the way it was.

The other time you'd leave the pod was for visits. Again, I can't speak for anywhere else, but the visiting room resembled nothing like I've ever seen on TV. That evening I was called for a visit. I was escorted there, and it was nothing like I expected. It was a long room with short windows along the ceiling. On both sides were booths that looked as if they had been stolen from McDonalds. There was one c.o. walking around and another seated at the gate. "San Vitale? Fourth seat on the left."

Walking to the booth, I saw the back of mom's head. Arriving at my assigned booth, she jumped up and hugged me. I was afraid to hug her back, thinking this must be against the rules. Mom clung to me. After maybe twenty seconds and the c.o. walking past me, I realized maybe this isn't banned. I hugged my visitor back and it felt good to hold her. She kissed me on both cheeks and then a quick peck on my lips. Trying to process this whole bizarre scene, she released me and slid back into her seat. I stood there stupidly, until mom commanded me to, "Sit!" and with a wave of her hand indicated the bench across from her.

Taking my hands into hers, mom asked if I was ok, was I having any problems, did I need anything. I explained to her that I was still trying to figure everything out; how nothing seemed like I expected, but I was alright. I told her how I couldn't believe the visiting room is like this. My visitor laughed and told me how relieved she was when she found out there weren't any Plexiglas and telephones. She told me that the visits are only one hour and every other evening.

"But don't worry, I'll be here every visiting day. Would you believe this place isn't that out of my way home from work? It's only two exits further down, and then right here. I never even knew where this place was before today. But I'll be here, don't worry we're going to get through this together." Saying that, mom pulled me forward and kissed me again. She explained that she had grabbed some books from my room to read, "...because isn't that what prisoners do?" she joked, "...and tomorrow, I'm gonna get the best lawyer and get you out of here. You don't belong here, that fucking bastard does."

Soon the hour was up and my savior had to leave. We stood up and hugged. I could see she was on the verge of tears. "Mom, please don't cry. I'm fine and he's not worth your tears." She clasped my cheeks and kissed my puckered lips. "How did I get such a wonderful son?"

"I have a great mom who taught me," I told her. We hugged again and I had to watch her leave.

Back on the pod, I realized how grateful I was for the books. I never read in the real world, but I soon discovered how the TV is operated – by finding the dumbest possible show. With cable, they were able to find some really terrible crap! I sat at one of the back tables as far away from the blaring idiot box and started reading out of sheer boredom. The next day, I got fifteen minutes on the phone and begged for more books because I was almost done with the three she had brought me.

I read and waited for my next visit. When I got down there, I was treated to the sight of mom in stretch nylon leggings that hugged her legs like a second skin, and a loose sweater that complimented it. But, it wasn't the sweater I was fixated on. Have I mentioned that mom has an athletic build, which included powerful but shapely legs? When she has the chance, she loves to swim. At home, there was a special section in the pool to allow for laps creating a T-shaped pool. This was done especially for her.

As we hugged, I noticed how sweet she smelled and that her hair was combed out. "God mom you look great." I complimented her.

"Thank you, I gotta look good for my man, don't I?" she replied. Then she continued, "Sit, I got good news for you..." After we sat and mom again took my hands in hers, "...I told you I would get you the best lawyer. Yesterday and this morning I spoke with Sylvia Plath, she's the best domestic violence attorney. She usually works with battered women, ripping those bastards apart. When I spoke to her yesterday, she told me she was trying to get a hold of me; but you know me, I haven't been checking the messages on the house phone. Anyway, she wants to represent you. She's going to come see you on Monday and then Tuesday, you have a court date." (My case had been reported in the local news.)

All I could think about was if the lawyer was so good, then how much she was going to cost. I said so.

"You're my man. You're worth any amount to me."

We talked about some mundane stuff, and mom told me she brought me some more books. She told me she had called my school and with only a month left to this semester, the professors were going to give me incompletes. Even as I thanked her, I jokingly asked, "Gosh mom, have you gotten any work done?"

She told me that I wouldn't believe how supportive her co-workers and our neighbors have been. "Would you believe Caroline [a neighbor] and Deborah [a co-worker] have started collecting money for a defense fund? You have a lot of people pulling for you." I figured it was her they were pulling for, but I didn't correct her.

Then our visit was over. We hugged, and mom whispered into my ear, "I never realized how empty the house is without you there. At night, I catch myself wondering where's my man? What's he doing right now? I hope he's thinking of me." As mom walked away, I realized I was checking out her ass and trying to spot the panty lines underneath those leggings. After she'd left, I realized I couldn't and wondered if my mom was wearing a thong or going commando. Either way it was hot.

Our next visit was on Sunday. This time my visitor wore a pink polo style shirt and well-fitting jeans. Instead of looking like a 46-year old woman trying to look young, she pulled it off. As we hugged, I noticed mom was almost as tall as I am. I even commented on it. Mom laughed and said, "No silly it's my sandals." She pirouetted around and then showed off her open toed sandals that sported a thick heel. I got my three kisses – one on my right cheek, one on my left, and one on my lips. Then we sat down, and I noticed that mom appeared especially perky, shall we say. Mom's not especially busty, maybe a B-cup but they fit with her body. When she wore a bathing suit, mom had soft gentle curves sculpting her form.

Today her little oranges were riding high, two bumps in that pink shirt. It was as if they were screaming, "Here we are!" Trying to be circumspect, I inquired: "Kinda upbeat today, huh?"

Missing the hint, she said, "I got good news yesterday. After I learned that bastard was cheating on this..." and she fluttered her arms to indicate herself, "...I had to get tested. The results came back yesterday, I'm clean of everything. Thank God, I didn't fuck him for at least three or four months." Mom paused. Squeezing my hands tighter, she continued, "I shouldn't tell you this, but I can't keep secrets from my man...your father was a lousy fuck..." My mind screamed YIKES! "...but at least he would let me use my toys to get off, or sometimes he'd use them on me; you don't have a problem using toys do you? Of course not, your younger generation is so lucky. You don't have to beg a man to shave. If I'm fully shaved, actually I go for waxing - thanks mãe, then why can't he trim down there. Do you think I want to stick my face in front of something that looks like an out-of-control forest? Do you think I wanna lick someone's asshole if there a tangle of brush blocking the way? No way, not me...but I'm sure you keep everything clean, right? Oh! I need you to get tested yourself. They'll do a full screening here, I already found out. Tell them whatever you have to; 'cause no clean bill of health, then you ain't getting none."

Mom paused for a second and my mind was spinning. What the fuck is she talking about? I wondered. Then she started up again, "Oh! I got a new bed that was delivered yesterday, it's wonderful, I couldn't sleep on that old one knowing your father was doing who knows what on it. I've been sleeping in your bed; it helps me feel close to you. I know you don't mind, maybe I'll keep sleeping there until you get home, then we can break in the new mattress, what do you think? That would be fun, huh? I got a queen size this time, I hope that's alright, I don't think we'll need all that extra space, do you?" I didn't even know what she was talking about. What did it matter to me what size bed she had?

"I also got a new bed frame. I think you'll really like it. Both the headboard and footboard are of black iron..." with her hands, she drew in the air, "...with these swirls that end with flower bulbs at the end. I found out the flowers are tulips. Isn't that funny? Two lips? But it's not girlie at all, in fact it looks like a guy's bed. With my man not home, I had to have the delivery guys set it all up."

She paused for a breath before continuing, "Those two guys were hot, and I mean hot. I thought of taking them both just to spite your father...but I couldn't do it, do you know why?" Baffled, I just shrugged. "Because I couldn't do that to my man, I've told you 'we're gonna do this together', and I mean it. If that means me having to be a good girl until you get home, then so be it." She leaned across the table and planted a kiss upon my hanging open mouth. "I love you so much, I can't wait until you get home, we're gonna have so much fun!" I looked around the visiting room wondering who had abducted my mother and replaced her with this crazy woman.