Defying Gravity Ch. 01

Since my eleventh birthday Mom has insisted that I could talk to her about anything, no matter what. She promised that she would listen to what I had to say without interruption until I had said my piece. I was unsure at the start but she has always kept her promise. Once again uncertainty clouds my mind.

I'm Daniel Carter, or Wash to the small group of friends I hung around with. You can figure out how that name came about on your own. I live at 1224 Summer Hill Drive with my Mom, Kate, short for Katherine Mary and Dad, James Aaron. Grandma Carter still calls him Jimmy which still ticks him off, he changed his name to James after Jimmy C was voted into the White House.

Dad is a production engineer at the Mills tractor plant, the Mills plant is the single largest employer in Billington. Everyone in Billington knows of a family member or a friend who works at the plant. It was at Mills that a seventeen year old Katherine Jones first met twenty seven year old assistant engineer James Carter.

I attend the local community college, I was taking business and mechanics; all the courses attended by the offspring of their employees are fully funded by the plant; my reasons were simple, I didn't want to add to the financial burden that I already was to my parents. I also decided to take extra music classes.

Mom surprised me by persuading Dad to use some of my college fund to buy me a set of wheels for my birthday. Dad wanted me to buy a two year old Nissan that was being off loaded by one of his bowling friends, saying that it was economical, easy to maintain and reliable. Mom was more practical minded and made a case for me to buy half share of a minivan which she could also use. I wanted a pickup truck.

I compromised; mom chose a silver minivan and I bought a half share. In the meantime my Uncle Bob, owner of an auto repair shop and gas station, used his contacts and located a 53 Chevy step side that had been in storage for the past eight years.

I used a little of what was left of my college money to take Mom and Dad, Uncle Bob and my Aunt Paula out to dinner at Rossi's in the Quadrant. Rossi's is a local family Italian restaurant that served the best pizza in town. It was a thank you for everything that they had done for me. Even though Mom and Dad both came from large families, I considered the five of us to be, in all intents and purposes, my family.

The evening was a stone wall hit after I had also volunteered to be the designated driver; Dad and Uncle Bob had a few too many glasses of red wine and Aunt Paula hadn't been that far behind them both. Mom was as usual in control and after two glasses with her dinner she drank mineral water. When we arrived home I had to help Mom carry Aunt Paula inside and then upstairs to our spare room, where I left her to sort out her sister. Returning to the minivan I then had to guide Uncle Bob and Dad inside. I managed to get them as far as the den where they then set about making light work of a bottle of Jack. Leaving them to punish themselves even further I went in search of Mom to see if she needed help. Mom had undressed Aunt Paula, when I arrived at the door she was lying on the bed wearing a matching set of fire red bra and pants that was high cut at the waist, the bra pushed Aunt Paula's breast into perfect globes. I could see the dark circles of her areolas through the sheer lacy fabric. Looking over the swell of her stomach I noticed a lack of darkness in her panties. I was shocked when I realised that Aunt Paula shaved her pussy. Give me a break, it's a pussy when your Mom's standing in the same room and you are ogling her sister.

I don't remember how long I just stood there looking at Aunt Paula lying on the bed until Mom walked over to me and whispered in my ear. To this day I can't remember what she said; I will never forget seeing a strange glint in her eye as she looked at me.

I was out of the house early the next morning; unlike the others I was working to pay off the professional work that I would need to have done on my truck. Uncle Bob organised the engine rebuild and the chassis powder coating and translated the cost into hours working at the gas station. I was ahead and had banked enough hours for a full body respray. The original colour was a flat grey; my new truck would be New York cab yellow.

I returned home just after lunch to find only Mom had managed to rise from her bed, I found her sitting on the patio nursing a cup of coffee; typically she had no signs of a hangover. The others managed to climb from their beds or, in Dad and Uncle Bob's case, the floor in the den later that afternoon. Mom made the best of the opportunity to make fun of them and still reminded them from time to time.

Life at home has its own routine. Dad works twelve hour day shifts, Monday to Friday, starting at 06:00; he was also a member of two bowling leagues and was out of the house at least four nights a week and sometimes five if there was a competition or the committee held a meeting.

College started at 08:00 and, other than on Fridays, my last class finished at 16:00. I usually worked three nights a week after school, on Wednesday I took the extra classes in music. Mom was a homemaker from when she married dad; recently, in the last eighteen months and after a great deal of persuasion by her older sister, my Aunt Paula, they started up a small catering business making one off celebration cakes for birthdays, weddings, anniversaries and other special events; one woman even commissioned a divorce cake for her freedom party. The business was now thriving after the divorce cake was pictured in an article in the Billington Gazette.

Dad and Uncle Bob played golf on Saturday; their idea of exercise was a four hour ride in a golf cart, followed by lunch and then a seat at the poker table. Mom and Aunt Paula managed to attend aerobic classes at least a couple of times a week. I didn't go in for team sports keeping fit by cycling the seven miles between home and college twice a day. Saturday I would head up into the local hills on my bike and think nothing of covering 40 or 50 miles. My goal was to compete in the annual Iron Mountain bike race. The rest of my free time I practiced my music.

Sunday was a family day.

So here I am, sitting at the kitchen table, Mom is sitting next to me her eyes locked on mine, the muscles in my legs were burning; it's Saturday afternoon and I have just showered and changed after a hard 55 mile ride out into the Black Hills. The ride had done nothing to fix my mind.

The turmoil started the previous day. My last class had been cancelled so I headed home early. When I pulled into Summerhill I spotted Aunt Paula's Cherokee parked in the driveway next to the minivan. Pulling into the driveway I dismounted and walked around the side of the house. Mom and Aunt Paula were sitting on the deck, still dressed in their sweats from the gym.

Though they were sisters Mom and Aunt Paula were not alike. Maybe it was due to the nine years that separated their births; Mom told me once that Grandpa and Grandma Jones hadn't planned on having anymore kids after Paula and that she was an accident. I'm eternally grateful for people making those kinds of mistakes.

Aunt Paula was five-four with short blonde hair, a cleavage that she liked to show and an ass that you could set your watch to as she walked. Mom was tall, five-ten, slim in an athletic way with long dark brown hair that reached to between her shoulder blades. Aunt Paula's vanity was her weakness; she wouldn't consider walking around her house without make-up and had undergone eye surgery when her sight started to weaken. Mom was a polar opposite and would happily go through the day as nature intended; when her eyesight start to weaken Mom took to wearing spectacles. Irrespective of their differences there was one thing that they did have in common, they were both lookers. It was only as I grew older that I saw the effect Aunt Paula had on men, old and young alike, she may have been racked and stacked but it was her butt that drew admiring glances. I'd heard several comments from the guys at college who, thinking that I was out of earshot, would state that they wouldn't mind getting some of that. I was glad that they saw Mom as the plain Jane sister and that suited her because she was a mom.

"Hey Mom, Hi Aunt Paula," I called out.

"Hi Honey," Mom called back. "How come you're early?"

"My last class was cancelled."

"How's school? " Aunt Paula asked. I felt her eyes wander over me.

"It's going OK," I answered.

"Do you want me to make you some lunch Honey?" asked Mom.

"That's ok Mom. I'll grab something later."

"OK, Honey," Mom answered.

"Catch you later Aunt Paula," I called out before heading inside.

The air in my bedroom was hot and stuffy when I entered so I opened the window. The sound of Aunt Paula's voice instantly filled my room.

"If I was twenty years younger I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you but up stairs shagging the face off of your Danny."

I started to breath slowly frightened that they would know that I was there.

"Why, isn't Bob doing it for you anymore?" Mom teased. There was a moment's silence.

"Bob still does it for me, but, what we used to do all night now takes all night." Mom erupted in laughter.

"So, then tell me little sis, is your sex life so fucking fantastic? Does Jimmy still knock your boots off?" I was shocked at hearing Aunt Paula cuss.

"Jim hasn't knocked my boots off as you put it since I can't remember when," Mom confessed sadly. "He comes home every Saturday after playing golf and tying on a few in the bar and we go to bed early. He rolls on a condom, climbs on, jabs me a few times, comes, rolls off and then falls asleep. I have to creep into the bathroom and finish myself off."

"The same happened to Bob; that's when I met a new friend." Mom must have given Aunt Paula a funny look as she then said, "Not that kind of friend, I went on the net and bought a new toy. It's surprising what little gadgets they have on the market these days."

"I've already got a couple of toys. They just don't do it for me. Jeez Paula, I'm not a frigid bitch. I'm only thirty eight but plastic fantastic, give me a break." I heard the heartfelt cry for help from mom. "Jim doesn't even kiss me anymore; I think that he's even forgotten what foreplay is. I can't believe how much I miss the simple things such as cuddling up on the sofa together or even just making out. I miss the intimacy."

They were quiet.

"You could..."

"Don't tell me to get a lover. I can't and won't do that to Danny."

"I would never tell you to do something like that," Aunt Paula answered. There was something in her voice that sent a shiver run down my spine.

"So, are we still planning on surprising Danny next weekend?" asked Aunt Paula, suddenly changing the subject.

"Yeah, but I don't want him to know. You're both coming too?" There was a moment's silence where I assumed Aunt Paula nodded to Mom. "I he knows that we'll be there it might just be too much. It's just that I have to be there." My music teacher had arranged a performance by the entire class. Most of my fellow students were musicians and that left Becca and Me as vocalists. As Mom said it would be my first public appearance and Mom needn't have worried as I knew that she knew in advance having arranged it that she would overhear. Their voices faded and I realised that they had disappeared inside. I was dressing when Aunt Paula called out from the foot of the stairs.

"I'm heading off now Danny."

"Catch you later Aunt Paula," I yelled back. "Say hi to Uncle Bob for me and tell him that I'll call round on Sunday morning to take a look at his computer." Knowing that I was planning on visiting her sister on Sunday I knew that Mom would persuade dad to come along with us too.

The conversation between Mom and Aunt Paula occupied my mind for the remainder of the afternoon. That night I decided against joining my buddies in town and after dinner headed to the garage to work on my bikes. I had three bikes, two for training and one race bike. I spent the rest of the night checking over my two training bikes. In the back of my mind I knew that Mom would need my second training bike if she was planning on joining me in eight days time. Finishing up I headed into the house. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table when I entered. She looked up as she heard the screen door open.

"Hey Honey, what've you been up to?" Grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator I moved to stand in the cool breeze by the door.

"I was just checking over my bike ready for tomorrow." Mom nodded knowingly. She knew about preparation. "I need to build up my training for the Iron Mountain."

He paused.

"If you don't have any work on next Saturday you could borrow my spare bike and come along. I know that you'd enjoy it." Mom smiled.

"We'll see." It was her stock answer when she didn't want to disappoint, knowing that she wouldn't be able to keep a promise if there was a last minute order to be delivered on the Saturday.

"Would you mind if I tagged along with you on Sunday when you go over to fix your Uncle Bob's computer?"

"Does that mean I don't have to ask if I can use the van?" Mom gave me an evil eye but only managed to make me laugh.

"Do I hear you complaining when you don't need to fill it with gas?"

"Mom, I've used the van three times in the last four weeks, each time it was to go to the store for you; the rest of the time you've needed it." I knew that I'd hit Mom's guilty spot.

"I'm sorry Honey; you know that you only have to ask." I put my arms around her, and lowered my head to rest against her shoulder. Mom raised her hand to caress my face.

"Mom, I was only fooling. I know how busy you and Aunt Paula are and I don't mind about the van. Besides, the minivan isn't cool enough when I take out my girlfriend."

Mom jumped.

"Why am I only hearing about this girl now?"

"Mom, I'm not dating anyone at the moment so just chillax." I gave her a hug. Mom moved her hands to cover mine. She knew full well that I didn't date, not now, not since the park.

For all the luck I had in the gene pool lottery it came to nought when I became the victim of a practical joke that went wrong. It was a Wednesday night and I was with a few of my friends from high school when a group of seniors thought it would be funny to let off some fireworks before the Memorial Day weekend. The prank got out of hand when one of the fireworks was thrown into the middle of the group. My head was filled with Becca's scream so I reacted by reaching for the firework and had the intention of hurling back at to where it came. As I was reached down it exploded in my face. I still have the scars; they are the reasons why I'm thankful for the gene pool and why I wear my hair long. The firework tore away my skin on my neck and face; my jacket melted in the intense heat, welding to my skin. I tried to pull the firework off damaging my hands in the futile effort. My friends reacted quickly, putting me down on the ground; Becca grabbed a leather jacket off one of her friends and tore the firework off my body. Whist this was going on another friend called 911 as another ran to my home. The paramedics arrived with two deputy sheriff cruisers. I wasn't aware but Mom arrived as I was lifted, unconscious, into the back of the ambulance.

I regained consciousness in hospital. I could only see out of my right eye and immediately panicked until I felt a hand take mine and Mom's voice reassuring me that I would be ok. I still carry the scars; the surgeons told Mom and dad that the injuries to my face and neck were more similar to those suffered by the victims of bombings. There were also burn scars across my chest, shoulder and arm. The surgeons were at least able to minimise the damage to my hands. They are scarred but I did regain full articulation.

Mom was with me every step of the way during my recovery and rehabilitation. She was nurse, mom, teacher, housekeeper and cook and always had a reassuring word for me every time I was at my lowest. For hours she would sit with me and we would just talk; eventually we could talk about anything. There wasn't a subject that she would not talk to me about or ask me. She even asked me if I had a girlfriend after arriving at my room to find Becca sitting at my bedside.

I have close friends who are girls but not a girlfriend. The scars from the surgeries were still livid by the time of the Senior Prom; by hard work, friends and luck I managed to stay with my year during the rehab. A few of the guys knew that I liked Jane Moore and pushed me to ask out her to the Prom. When I asked her she publicly put me down in front of everyone in the cafeteria. That was when I knew that I had great friends; they insisted that we attend the prom as one, even though I didn't have a date; I was never on my own and had a dance partner throughout the night. I learned later that it was Becca who had got her friends together. At one point Jane Moore approached our table and had the courage to ask me to dance. Instantly Becca grabbed my hand, saying 'you promised me this dance I believe' and pulled me on to the floor. When I looked back towards our table my friends were telling Jane where she had gone wrong.

"I was just saying that I wouldn't make a good first impression if I were to pick her up in the minivan, that's all."

"If she isn't impressed by being asked out by you in the first instance then she isn't worth picking up, minivan or no minivan," Mom replied.

"That's my mom." I kissed her cheek and released my hold. "I'm going to head off to bed. I'll be out early tomorrow so, unless you are up with the birds I see you when I get back."

"OK, Honey, if I don't see you for breakfast, promise me that you'll ride safely and don't forget to take your cell with you just in case." I didn't realise what the accident had done to Mom until I had returned to school. The moment that I was out of sight she became a bag of nerves. It's eased a little now but she still worries. I thank the guy that invented the cell.

I laughed. "Yes mom."

Mom relented, "I know that you think that I'm always getting on at you but..."

"You're my mom, so it's allowed." I kissed her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night Honey," Mom answered. As I headed upstairs I called out goodnight to my dad who was watching Jay Leno. I didn't hear a response.

~ ~ ~

Mom was in the kitchen when I crept downstairs just after dawn the next morning. We sat down for a healthy breakfast of oatmeal, OJ and fresh fruit. I was cycling along Summerhill half an hour later with Mom standing on the front porch watching me until she could no longer see me. Upstairs my dad would just be rising for his morning golf game.

The fifty five miles were punishing; not because of the distance but because of the turmoil that I was trying to drive out of my head. My mind was in a paradox as opposing thoughts and arguments tackled each other to a standstill in my head. I returned home with the muscles in my legs burning fiercely. After a long hot shower I lay on my bed for what seemed like hours but was in fact twenty minutes before heading downstairs. I found Mom in the kitchen, she had prepared lunch whilst I had been in the shower; it was already on the table.

"I thought that we would have a lazy afternoon," said Mom, taking her usual place at the table. Mom sat at one end of the table, the one nearest the back door with dad sitting opposite. I always sat on mom's left, with my back to the stove.

"I forgot the iced tea; would you get it please Honey? It's in the fridge."

"Sure mom," I answered. He muscles in my legs felt like melting jello as I walked across the kitchen and back again.