Beyond the Borderline

That evening, things were determinedly back to normal. Mom ate dinner quickly and retired to her office to work on her backlog. I watched TV until bedtime. Mom came out of her office, gave me a perfunctory peck on my cheek and a quick hug and then bade me goodnight. She strode purposefully into her own room, closed the door quietly and that was that.

Well, one "pressing" problem was now solved. I no longer had to worry about resisting the temptation to molest my mother every morning. I was now left with the mystery of Mom's kiss and her behavior in the car before she left for work. I couldn't begin to fathom what had happened, especially with Mom so decisively returning things to routine when she got home, but I still had the strange feeling that the universe had slipped just a little bit sideways into territory that I didn't fully understand. I had a very clear sense that my relationship with Mom had subtly changed, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

***

Going back to school was incredibly difficult. We barely had time to arrange the funeral and I then was back in classes with Gramps and Nana not in the ground for even a week. Sorting out my own feelings and being there for Mom seemed to take all the energy I had. I kept my grades up reasonably well, but mentally and emotionally, I felt like I was wading through hip deep mud. Not only was I trying to cope with the loss of my other parents, I still felt very guilty about my reactions to the time when Mom was sharing my bed.

It wasn't until after New Year's that I felt as though we were finally returning to some semblance of normal. I won't go into what the holidays were like, except to say that Mom and I leaned on each other, a lot. Fortunately, when one of us was in a funk, the other was usually able to be there.

I was right in my going-back-to-school ruminations about Mom, and me though. We were always close, sharing just about everything with one another, being very open, but now I felt as though there was almost a deference in some of her interactions with me. There was little if any of the old, traditional parent child nagging about doing chores, homework or cleaning "that pigsty you call a bedroom."

We talked about paying bills, priorities for repairing stuff around the house, coordinating household errands and shopping, things of that nature. It was kind of weird, but felt really good on another level. Mom was making me feel much more adult and treating very much as the man of the house. I think she was letting me know that she considered me to be really growing up and I relished those feelings. I wanted her to feel proud of me, proud of how I was taking care of her. As with any change though, there were unintended consequences which Mom seemed completely unaware of.

Nana and Gramps' passing couldn't help but make us closer and more dependent on one another, but being treated in grown up fashion by Mom heightened my sense of us being a couple to an almost painful degree. I never let on how much my change in status affected me, how much it intensified my feelings for Mom. I tried to submerge those emotions as much as possible, concentrating on schoolwork, my part time job at Agostino's and going out with Grace.

My sublimation must have been effective, because my grades stayed high. Shortly after the holidays, I started getting acceptances from various colleges. Those, which were more than a couple hours away, I rejected out of hand, having no intention of being any significant distance from Mom. We had one of our very rare arguments during this period when I wanted to turn down an offer to attend Georgetown

The day the letter arrived was a Friday, which meant I went straight from school to Uncle Louie's, setting up and cleaning the dining room, checking to make sure the cooking stations were properly set up and then helping with mis en place.

When I dragged my butt home that evening, Mom was waiting in the kitchen, sitting in the nook. The minute I came through the door, I could sense her excitement. She sprang up from her chair, brandishing a thick, official looking envelope as she rushed to hug me.

"It's wonderful news, Ricky! Just wonderful! You've been accepted to Georgetown! I'm so proud of you honey, just so proud!" she exclaimed, beginning to get a bit weepy.

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach, but did my best to conceal my dismay. Georgetown was, along with William and Mary and Northwestern, one of the places that was farthest away from Mom. I had only applied to them to humor her. In my heart, I had no intention of ever being that far away.

I already had acceptances in hand from Montclair State and Rutgers, but in Mom's mind, those were, at best, second tier choices, only to be tolerated if something better failed to materialize. I considered Princeton to be an absolute pipe dream, as did Mom, so we didn't even bother with that. I did roll the dice though, with both Columbia and NYU. At that point, I had heard nothing from either place. I was out of the time window for immediate rejection, but as yet I had no idea where I stood with those schools. The wait was killing me.

"Uhm, that's great Mom," I said with minimal enthusiasm.

"Ricky!" she scolded furiously. 'What the hell is the matter with you? An acceptance from a top school with a merit scholarship, no less, and all you can do is shrug your shoulders? Jesus, anybody else would be doing cartwheels right now! What's going on here?" she asked, eyebrows narrowing in suspicion.

"Sorry Mom, I just guess I'm a little tired," I lied, giving her a weak, half smile.

"That's complete and utter bullshit, Ricky," she scolded, startling me with her profanity. Mom hardly ever swore under any circumstances and even less so at me.

"Out with it, boy. What's on your mind? I know it's not because you're tired, so 'fess up," she pressed. "You owe me an explanation for that reaction, buster."

I think I must have been too tired, because I spat out my answer without any thought, not taking any care to say things carefully.

"It's too darn far, Mom! I don't want to be so far from home! I just don't!" I snapped angrily.

Mom sat back heavily in her chair, brow furrowed, looking me up and down with a measuring stare.

Heaving a sigh, she looked down at the tabletop, clearly struggling to find words.

Finally, she exhaled heavily and looked up, disillusionment clearly written on her face.

"I'm very disappointed, Ricky. I know how close we are, how that's affecting your decisions and believe me, it touches me that you still feel that way, especially at your age. I treasure that more than you'll ever know."

"But, "she said firmly, lowering the boom," But you've GOT to go to the best school you can. Just look at me, Ricky. I got off to a horrible start, but everything that I have now, all the things that are precious in my life; they come from the education I received. The professional accomplishments, my income and independence and most importantly, the good home I've been able to provide for my lovely son, they all come from the choices I made, to better myself, to do the best I could, from taking advantage of all my opportunities."

"If you miss this chance, if you do one bit less than the best you can, it will break my heart," she said heavily. "I'll still love you. I always will, but if you deliberately settle for less than you deserve, then you'll lose my respect. Do you really want that to happen, Ricky? Do you?"

Wow, talk about using the nuclear option. Mom surely wasn't playing fair. She knew that the one thing in the world that I valued the most was her good opinion of me. I knew then that as much as I loved and wanted her, if she was going to be disappointed with my choice, losing faith in me, then there was not the slightest chance that we could ever be together. I felt trapped, completely hemmed in by fate.

Taking the letter from her, I quickly scanned the terms, taking a little heart. Squeezing her hand, I smiled and surrendered.

"I promise I'll go to the best school I can, Mom," I reassured her.

Then I threw the dice, hoping for the best.

"Mom, what if I get into NYU or Columbia? What do you think of those schools?"

"Ricky, if that happened, I'd jump all over it," she said without hesitation.

"In a New York minute?" I joked.

Mom threw back her head and laughed delightedly, then pushed her chair back and got up, coming over to sit in my lap, kissing my forehead, arms around my neck. God, what that did to me. I wanted to bottle that moment, preserve it forever.

Trying to distract myself, I said, "Tell you what, Mom. This letter says I have two weeks to accept the offer. Can we wait that long, see if anything else happens?"

"That's fair. But we're agreed, right, Ricky? The best possible school?"

"It's a deal, Mom. I promise."

Snuggling further into my lap, Mom laid her head on my shoulder, squeezing me tight.

"You're my wonderful, smart son. I love you, Ricky."

"Love you too, Mom. Can I get up now? I need a shower."

"What's the matter, son, too much mommy mush?" she teased.

My need to get up had nothing to do with too much mush, quite the opposite. In about another five seconds, Mom was going to find her son's cock poking her bottom, which would definitely end the evening on an awkward note.

Dissembling as I stood, I did my best parody of an embarrassed country boy, scuffing my shoes on the floor.

"Aw, gee, shucks, Ma, y'all are makin' lil' ole me blush."

"Go get cleaned up, stinker," she said warmly, swatting my butt to move me along.

***

I went to bed that evening satisfied that I had dodged a big bullet, but I still had no idea if either of my first choices would come through.

The very next day, I hit rock bottom. I got one of those thin little envelopes from NYU. Hands shaking as I opened it, I knew that my options were dwindling. It wasn't an outright rejection. I was wait listed, but knowing what I did, remembering my promise to Mom, it was as good as done.

For the next week, I was on pins and needles, hoping against hope that I wouldn't have to go to DC. With each passing day, I became more and more depressed. My schoolwork suffered and I even snapped at Mom. The Friday following the Georgetown letter came and still nothing. I went to work at Louie's and stumbled through the evening like a robot.

When I got home though, Mom was waiting again in the kitchen, looking very serious. My heart did little flip-flops in my chest and I felt like throwing up when I saw her expression. She left me hanging for about five seconds and then drew out a large manila envelope she was hiding on her lap, a huge grin splitting her face.

"Congratulations, Ricky," she said softly, handing it over to me.

"That was just plain mean, Mom," I groused. "I just about had a heart attack."

I pretended to be a bit angry with her little deception, but inside I was performing the biggest fist pump since Tiger won his first Master's. Life was starting to look good again.

Thank god for Columbia. It was just about the only place that Mom thought was better than my other, more distant acceptances. It still wasn't as close as I wanted, but I could sense that Mom wasn't going to budge on this one, and besides, I had made a promise. She made herself very clear just before I signed my acceptance offer.

"Ricky, I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully. I love you dearly and would do anything for you, but you're not going to compromise on your education. As long as I'm in control of the trust Mom and Dad set up, you will be going to the best school you can get into. And you will work hard. You will bust your ass to do well. This is the only time I'm going to say 'my way or no way.' Are we clear on this?"

I brought myself to an exaggerated attitude of military attention and slapped off a sardonic caricature of a Sandhurst style salute.

"Yes ma'am, absolutely ma'am."

Mom's eyebrows narrowed and she scowled, hands on her hips.

"Don't get cute with me, Richard Alan Lindermann!" She snapped.

Oh God. The dreaded full name address. Every young man knows that when those words cross a mother's lips, that the fecal material is about to hit the spinning ventilation device. I responded quickly to defuse the situation, stepping in closely. Taking her hands in mine, I kissed her cheek softly.

"I understand, Mom. I'm not going to give you a hard time. Actually, I'm very happy that I'll be so close to home. I'm still going to need to see my favorite girl regularly, otherwise I'd be lost."

Her features softened and her eyes moistened. She sniffed once and gave me a crooked half smile.

"Favorite girl, eh? There you go again, trying to charm my...uh, socks off."

"Always, Mom, always."

Abruptly, she drew me in and embraced me fiercely. The hug went on for more than a minute, her head buried on my shoulder, hands tracing my back and shoulders. Within a very short span of time, my usual problem began to declare itself and I made to disengage, but Mom wouldn't let go. It got to the point where I gave up.

There was no way she could be unaware of my hard dick, but I mentally shrugged my shoulders and thought, "So be it," deciding that for once, I wasn't going to try and conceal how I felt. Instead, I concentrated on the moment, gently stroking her hair, neck and shoulders.

"I'll always be here for you Mom."

Finally drawing away, Mom held me at arms length, a tear running down her cheek. "I'm still going to miss you when you're living in the dorm," she sniffed.

"Now hold on just a second, Mom! Who said anything about living on campus?" I asked with alarm.

"Ricky! Of course you're going to live at school!" she exclaimed in shock. "It's an essential part of your college experience and I won't let you short yourself on this!"

I swallowed hard and thought feverishly, trying to stave off what I considered disaster.

"But Mom, it's not that simple. I've got to take the long view here."

"What do you mean, Ricky?"

"Uh, well...it's this way," I temporized, thinking frantically. "Even with subsidized housing, room and board is pretty expensive. I know there's a decent amount of money in the trust, but I still need to conserve, especially if I go on to law school or grad school." I heaved a huge mental sigh of relief, knowing that I had improvised successfully, finding the one possible chink in Mom's armor.

"Well, put that way, I can see your point. I guess I'll need to think about it some more."

"The train ride's not bad at all, Mom. I can use the time to study and I'd be coming home on weekends anyway. Besides, I've really got a good gig going with Agostino's right now too. There's no way that any work-study job would pay as well."

"No," I continued with more confidence, trying to sound mature and reflective, " I should be around to make sure that things stay fixed and make certain everything gets done right. You've got a lot of money tied up in the house and we should make sure that it holds its value. As the man of the house it's the least I can do. It just wouldn't feel right leaving you here by yourself."

Mom was looking at me shrewdly, with a skeptically raised eyebrow, clearly dissecting my extemporaneous bullshitting.

"Using a pretty big shovel, aren't you son?" she asked sardonically.

"I have no idea what you mean, Mom."

"Phffftp! You don't fool me for one minute, young man. Even so, you do make a few good points for once. Okay. You can commute." She kissed me lightly and briefly on the lips and walked to her office, shaking her head, talking to herself.

"Man of the house, indeed!" she snorted.

"There is another reason I want to stay close, Mom," I teased to her retreating back.

"And what would that be?" she tossed back over her shoulder.

"I'd be very, very jealous if you got yourself a new pool guy."

"Would you, now?" she said in a coy, teasing voice.

***

High school graduation was bittersweet. Of course, Mom was there when I got my diploma, but the usual celebrations and festivities that typically accompany the event just hammered home Nana and Gramps' absence to us. I really wanted nothing to do with the whole thing, but did agree to go out party hopping with Grace, my girlfriend. We lasted a couple of stops, but Gracie could tell my heart wasn't in it. "What's wrong Rick? You seem so down. What's on your mind?"

I sighed. "I'm really sorry Grace. I've just been thinking about my grandparents, how much I wanted them to be able to see this. I'm missing them a lot right now."

She nodded her understanding and touched my cheek. "Thinking about your Mom too?" She knew how close we were, or so she thought.

"Yeah. She's been pretty down for the past week or so, thinking about me starting college in the fall, being alone. I worry about her."

"I have an idea, Rick. Let's pick up a couple of DVDs and a pizza. We'll go back to your place and all watch the movies and pig out."

"Are you sure Gracie? I don't mind if you want to stay out and party tonight, I really don't. I'll even come back to pick you up and take you home, if you want."

"Rick, you are so dense sometimes, I want to smack you. This is my idea. I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't want to do it. Now, are you in or not?"

I had to smile. "Grace, you are a gem and a true friend. I'm in."

"Great. We'll pick out the movies while we're waiting for the pizza to be ready. You've been after me forever to see that French guy's films - what was his name - Clouseau?"

"Clouzot, Henri-Georges Clouzot," I corrected. I was a big new wave and film noir fan and his movies were among my favorites, courtesy of Mom's tastes and influence. I had been telling her for several months about Les Diaboliques and The Wages of Fear. We were able to score both movies and brought home a nice New York style sausage and mushroom from Salerno's. We surprised Mom in the kitchen when we arrived, interrupting her own dinner preparations.

"Ricky! What on earth are you doing home? You two are supposed to be celebrating!"

"Mom, I just couldn't get into it this evening, I was -"

Grace cut in. "I didn't really feel like staying out and partying either, Mrs. Lindermann. Rick has been after me forever to check out a couple movies, so I thought this would be more fun."

"You two are very sweet to be thinking about me, but I really must insist - "

"Mom," I interjected. "We have a pie from Salerno's and two movies in hand."

Sensing defeat, Mom acquiesced gracefully. "So, what are we watching?"

Silently, I handed the DVDs to her. Her face lit up when she saw the titles and I knew I had her hooked.

"Ahhh, wonderful choices, Ricky," she sighed. "Yves Montand's first leading role in one and a young, gorgeous Simone Signoret in the other. Thanks so much, both of you."

We settled into the den and devoured the pizza. Mom even let us have a glass of Bardolino each, with an "our secret" admonishment. I sat in the center of the sofa with my arms around Grace and Mom. I felt just a little guilty using Grace's presence to justify touching the both of them, but only a little.

***

As my first year in college unfolded, it became clear to me that while I was going to finish and get my degree, I was most interested in actually working as a chef. I had parlayed one my summer positions in a local restaurant into some contacts in the city and decided that I was going to try to take courses at Le Cordon Bleu and the Istituto Culinario Italiano. I had eventually been awarded a merit scholarship that covered nearly all of my college tuition and with Gramp's and Nana's legacy, I could afford the tuition at the cooking schools as well, especially if I continued to live at home with Mom. I ended up creating an individual major in culinary history with a minor in business administration, which pleased Mom a lot. I felt that I would be in good shape for a career as an executive chef once I graduated.