Josh Knows Best Ch. 02

Josh and his mom hit a bump in the road.

All characters are over 18.

Much thanks to JordanJohnson for his help in editing. Any errors remaining are my own.

Enjoy. Let me know what works and what doesn't.

**********

Mom and I slept for an hour or so. When we woke, I was able to bathe her in the shower before making love to her again, more slowly this time. I fell asleep snuggled against her back.

Thank God, I set the alarm on my phone. When it went off, I struggled out of bed, tired but exuberant. I had just enough time to make a sandwich and head off to man the grill at Mickey's.

Mom was still in bed when I left; her shift at the bar did not start until 7:00 pm. Mickey's closed at 9:00. Mom would not be home until almost 2:00 in the morning. Between the romps with mom and a night on my feet, dripping sweat onto a sizzling grill, I was out like a fucking light within minutes of my head hitting the pillow.

I had taken a shower, in the event mom decided to join me. My bed was a twin, but I would have loved to snuggle some more.

When I woke, I was alone. Alone with my usual ferocious morning wood.

As I laid there, the events of yesterday running through my mind, I idly stroked my cock. My normal routine would be to jerk off and then go back to sleep for an hour or two. Not that morning.

I hopped out of bed, naked, and padded across the narrow hall to the bathroom where I peed for what felt like an hour. I made coffee and got myself a giant bowl of cereal. These mundane tasks occupied my mind just enough to allow my cock to, more or less, deflate.

I wiped the precum off the head of dick and licked my finger clean before leaning against the countertop and eating my cereal. When I finished, I washed the bowl and spoon and poured a cup of coffee.

I was torn between being quiet so mom could get her rest and making enough noise to wake her so that we could pick up where we had left off.

By the time I finished my coffee I still hadn't heard a sound from mom's room. I sat my cup down and tiptoed to her door.

I tapped lightly with one knuckle.

"Mom?" I called, barely above a whisper. No response. A slightly louder tap followed by a slightly louder, "mom?" Nothing.

I took hold of the doorknob and turned slowly. It wasn't locked. I would have been surprised if it had been. I pushed the door open an inch or so.

"Mom?" I opened her door a crack, just enough to peek through the gap.

Her bed was made.

The room was empty.

†

I checked the bathroom. Her toothbrush was gone. How had I missed that earlier? I yanked open the medicine cabinet; her deodorant was missing. I jerked the shower curtain back so hard several of the rings went flying. Her shampoo was not there.

I went back to her bedroom. No phone charger on the bedside table. I opened her closet. The small carry-on she kept on the top shelf was gone, as were some of her clothes.

As my heart pounded, I tried not to panic. Maybe something happened to Nana? But she would have told me. Maybe she wanted to let me sleep? I hurried back to the kitchen. The kitchen table, under the saltshaker, was our unofficial official location for leaving notes. I had eaten leaning against the countertop. I might have missed a note.

Nothing.

Running now, I hurried to my room and grabbed my phone. I was already seeing the local news talking heads babbling on with faked concern about a local woman who went missing after finishing her shift at a local bar. Beneath the false concern would the subtext implying that working in a bar implied she had hooked up with the wrong patron after work.

In our part of the world, a woman working in a bar was always cause for a raised eyebrow.

Mel answered the third time I hit 'redial'.

"This better be fucking good or I swear I'll track you down and shove that phone so far up your fucking ass you'll..."

"Mel, sorry dude, it's Josh. Sorry to call so early but I'm worried about my mom. She didn't come home last night. Was everything okay at the bar last night?"

"No, everything was not fucking okay at the bar last night. I ran my ass off is how everything was at the bar last night. Your mom called in sick. If she's not there puking her guts out, she's fired. Pass the word."

He hung up before I could utter a syllable.

I called mom. Voicemail. I called again. And again. Every call went straight to voicemail. She either had the phone switched off or was declining to accept the call.

"Mom, answer your phone, I'm worried." I typed out, my fingers stumbling over the keys.

I re-sent the text again, pacing the narrow confines of my room. My finger was poised to hit the 'send' button once again when I jolted to a halt.

"You stupid ass dumb motherfucker," I whispered to the empty room while shaking my head at my stupidity.

Our iPhones are part of Family Share. Mom is not a techie. I couple of clicks and I know two things. I know she didn't turn sharing off and I know where she is.

I jerked on a pair of shorts and my tennis shoes, dropped my phone in one pocket and hurried outside. I opened the door to the detached garage; her car was gone. Duh. I hopped on my bike and took off, pedaling as fast as I could.

Though our town is surrounded by flat farmland and I was in good shape, it took a while to bike the eleven miles to the motel where mom and her phone had holed up.

I was dripping with sweat and panting for breath when I skidded into the parking lot. The motel had seen better days. Like many small-town businesses, the freeway had dealt the motel a near fatal wound. It was kept alive by those in need of a place to hook up or the hopelessly lost and exhausted traveler fearing they had wandered into a Stephen King story.

Mom's car was in the parking lot, near the end of the line of rooms. There was only one other car in the lot. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, regretting my repeated attempts to call or text her. What if she had turned her phone off to get some peace?

I walked to the room in front of her car and hit "dial". I had always hated mom's ringtone, "who let the dogs out". As I heard it wafting through the cheap door, I thought it was the greatest song ever written.

I tapped lightly on the door with one knuckle, even though I wanted to bust it down with my shoulder.

"Mom, open the door. I heard your phone." I pitch my voice low and speak slowly. To my ears I sounded too much like a kid trying to coax a stray dog to eat out of his hand.

I saw the curtain covering the window beside the door twitch.

"Joshua, go home. I do not want to talk to you right now."

"Mom, please open the door." I hate the way my voice cracks.

"Josh, please, please, just go away and let me think. Please." I could hear her sobs through the door.

"I can't do that, mom. I can't just leave you here like this. Let me in. Please."

The only sound came from the cars on the county road.

"Mom," I tried again. "I can't just hop on my bike and go home and leave you here. I'm worried about you. You don't sound like you're in any shape to drive and this place is a dump. You don't belong here."

With that I sat with my back to the door. I crossed my legs and leaned forward to rest on my elbows. I entertained myself by counting the drops of sweat that dripped from the tip of my nose to darken the dusty concrete.

I reached twenty-three before I heard the lock being turned. I scrambled to my feet and faced the door.

The door opened but the chain remained on. The part of mom's face I could see was a mess. One red-rimmed eye, smeared mascara, and tear-streaked cheeks. The mascara told me she had planned to go to work last night. Whatever had led her to this dump had been sudden.

"Josh, Joshie, please go home. I need to think," she whispered.

I wanted to reach through the crack and wipe away her tears, but hesitated, holding my hand to my chest. "Mom. I can't leave you like this. You're a mess. Let me take care of you. Please, don't send me away."

Fresh tears poured down her face as she closed the door. Not a good sign. I held my breath.

A sigh heaved its way out of my chest when I heard the rattle of the chain.

The door opened and she stood there with red swollen eyes and cheeks smeared with trails of mascara. I wanted to grab her up and run far away from this place. The motel. The town. The fucking state.

I wanted to pick her up and protect her, take care of her, make her happy. But I just stood there. What if scooping her up in my arms only frightened her even more?

I opened my mouth but the only sound I produced was a croak. I swallowed hard and fought not to start crying.

When she reached out and took my hand, I failed. She led me to a chair near the window. I plopped down and managed to swallow my sobs even as tears continued to course down my cheeks. She took a seat on the bed opposite me.

"Why did you leave me like that, mom? Why?" My voice was thick.

I blinked my eyes rapidly. I could not believe I was crying like a kid. I'm not a little boy; I'm a man. I thought to myself.

"I thought you loved me?" I croaked.

"I do love you, Joshua. That's why I left. What I did was unforgiveable. I'm your mom. I'm the adult here. I should have stopped it. I'm so ashamed of myself."

She started to cry.

My heart stops pounding. Everything stopped.

This is how you protect her? This is how you make her feel loved and safe? By making her cry. Making her so ashamed she has to run away?

The voice in my head is relentless.

Mom wiped at her face, making an even bigger mess of her mascara, took a shuddering breath and continued.

"I'm the adult. I'm the parent. What you wanted was wrong and I was wrong to give in. I was as wrong as if you had said you wanted to set the house on fire and I let you. You're still more a kid than an adult."

I took a deep breath. The breath was shakier than I would have liked. And it would have been nice if my nose had not been dripping tears and snot.

"It may not look like it, right now, but I am a man. I've thought carefully about this. I have been running it back and forth in my mind for months. I've turned it over and over. You are not asking me to do this. I am not too young or immature to understand what other people would think. I know they wouldn't understand. I don't care. Fuck 'em."

I paused. I was about to lie and I was not used to lying to my mom.

"I know we might get hurt. That's a risk in any relationship. But I want this. Want us." I finish with the lie. "I know this is not permanent."

Mom began to shake her head before I had said more than half of what I want to say.

"No, Josh. Even if all you said is true, this is still wrong. What about the age difference? I would lose my mind if I discovered you were dating a woman my age. It's too great a difference. It would never work." She held up a hand and I closed my mouth without speaking.

"You should not waste time on something that can never last. You should be dating someone your own age. Doing this will close you off from all the things you should be doing and learning. Forget the fact I'm your mom, your mother for God's sake, I am too old for you."

She stopped speaking and dropped her eyes to look at the floor.

"I really don't like girls my age." I shook my head. "That's not right. I like them but I don't want to date them. Maybe because they've had it so easy all their lives, I find them so, so...." I searched for the right word. "Unserious. Trivial. I don't care what they saw on Snap Chat or TikTok. They're ... boring. Even if this ends, there is no one at school I'm interested in being more than friends with."

I took a chance and moved to sit beside her on the bed.

"If someone my age comes along who interests me, I'll explore the option. I'll be off to college in a few weeks. I'm hoping there will be someone there who interests me." Another lie.

My voice is shakier than I liked as I managed to finish. "Or, if you are going to push me away in order to avoid this, then I'll stop. I don't think I could stand that. Having you as a lover would be," I paused. "Amazing. But if the idea of that means you'll force me away I wouldn't be able to stand that. I need you as a mother more than I need you as a lover."

I found myself crying again at the thought of her not being there.

I was still crying when mom leaned into me and put her arm around my shoulder. She pulled me into the bed.

She's smaller than me but somehow managed to wrap me up in her arms.

She held me until I cried myself to sleep.

So, much for showing her what I man I was.

Fuck.

†

I don't think I slept long. My face was still wet when I woke. My head was cradled against mom's chest.

I did my best to breathe her in without being obvious. I was afraid she would pull away if she knew I was awake.

I burrowed my head deeper between her breasts, murmuring as I did so.

I could feel her heartbeat against my cheek. I listened to the soft susurrus sound of her breathing.

I didn't care what society thought or anyone said. This is where I belonged. This is where she belonged.

I turned slightly and nuzzled the middle of her chest. The hand nestled in my hair tensed, then began to stroke my hair.

I tilted my head upwards. Pressing my nose against her throat I breathed her in before kissing the hollow spot at the base.

She sighed. Her hand tugged at my hair. I put a hand on her hip. I pressed against her with my nose and my hand, encouraging her to roll onto her back.

Instead, she rolled away and sat up on the far side of the bed.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck

"I'm sorry," I stammered. "Don't go. Don't leave. Please."

My mom took a deep breath and sighed. "If we're going to do this, and it is still a big if Joshua, don't forget that fact please, it won't be in some shit hole rattrap like this. Come on. Let's go home."

I shot across the bed and wrapped an arm around her holding her against my chest.

"Oh, thank God. You fucking scared me, mom."

"If, IF this continues, call me Janice. At least when we're alone."

With that she stood up and went into the bathroom. I sat there watching her pack up her few toiletries. She washed her face. She looked less a mess when she returned.

"Is that all you wore? Shorts and tennis shoes?"

"I was losing my mind, mo...Janice. Give me a break."

"Go wash your face, Joshua, so we can get outta here."

"For someone who doesn't want me to call her mom you sure ordered me around like one." I smiled.

She didn't.

I got up and washed my face.

†

I felt almost normal after washing my face. I managed to wedge my bike in the trunk of mom's car while she checked out.

I could see she was pissed when she got into the car.

"What happened?" I asked as she started the car.

"Asshole clerk. All leers and snide innuendos. What a dick. I'll ask Mel to ban him from the bar."

"Mel, says you're fired."

Mom gave a short bark of a laugh. "Right. I should be that lucky."

The drive home was silent. Without asking, mom pulled into the McDonald's on the edge of town. I was starved. She rolled her eyes as I ordered a sausage McMuffin breakfast with a large Coke and two breakfast burritos. She settled for her usual single Egg McMuffin.

Mom parked and grabbed her stuff. I closed the garage door, then followed mom into the house. I sat the McD's bag on the table and poured her a cup of coffee.

It felt like the morning had lasted a year, but it had not even been long enough for the coffee to get cold.

Mom nibbled at her sandwich. I scarfed down mine, then doused my burritos with real hot sauce, not that pansy assed shit from McD's. Mom rolled her eyes.

"You'll make yourself sick eating so fast," she observed.

I shook my head. "No way, stomach like a horse." I hesitate, then went for it. "Cock like a horse too." I added with a wink.

Mom, Janice, stared at me then shook her head.

I was almost done with my hashbrown before mom finished her single little sandwich.

I took a giant gulp of my Coke and then reached for one of Janice's hands.

"I meant everything I said. I think we can be lovers and you can still be my mom. But if you don't think so, I want you as my mom more than as a lover. I don't want to lose you. Understand?"

"Josh, Joshua, how can this be right?" Janice's voice was soft, and I had to strain to hear it.

"I don't know. Most of the time, for most people it isn't right. But I can't feel ashamed of what we did. I can't. It felt right to me. But if it doesn't to you, then we should stop. I can't lose you over this."

She stood up, holding on to the table for support.

"I'm tired, Joshua. Exhausted. I don't think I slept at all last night. I'm too tired to think. I'm going to lie down. I need to sleep, have to sleep before I can process this."

"Of course," I replied, touching the back of her hand. "Of course. You look beat. Go to bed. I'll take care of lunch and supper. You sleep."

She nodded, hesitated, then tousled my hair.

Her bedroom door closed. The click of the latch sounded horrendously loud in the quiet house.

I sat at the kitchen table, ignoring the breakfast debris, thinking.

†

Janice had never left this utterly exhausted in her life, not even when Joshua was an infant and she was working two jobs and dealing with the psychopath she had married.

Her eyes burned. She was nauseated. Her back and legs ached. Her head throbbed. She understood now what was meant by 'bone tired'.

Despite her exhaustion, sleep eluded her.

This has to stop. She would tell herself and roll over to go to sleep.

Before she could re-arrange her pillow, she had changed her mind.

Joshua is right. It was his idea. We aren't hurting anyone. I've missed feeling wanted, feeling loved in the way a man loves a woman.

No! You're sick!

In desperation, she yanked open the drawer of the bedside table and grabbed the bottle of Tylenol PM she kept there. She took three - fuck the recommended dosage - dry swallowing them to avoid risking running into Josh while getting a glass of water.

She eventually slept and woke to vague memories of bizarre dreams. She felt hungover. She always did after taking Tylenol PM, which is why she rarely took it. She laid there, feeling only minimally less shitty than she had before sleeping. She wondered what time it was.

She had drawn the heavy curtains over the sole bedroom window. The room was dark and offered no clue as to the time. Her phone served as her clock and her phone was in her purse and her purse was in the kitchen. She rolled to the side of the bed and stood up, stifling a groan and feeling old. Very old.

She crossed to the window and pull the curtain back. It was dark. Well, I slept for a while at least. How long?

She listened for the sound of the TV and heard nothing. She listened for the sound of Josh moving about the house. Nothing. She crossed to the door and open it slowly. The hall and living room were wreathed in darkness.

She tiptoed her way to the kitchen. A faint light from the garage's dusk-to-dawn light illuminated the kitchen. The clock on the stove read 3:42.

"That was some nap," she whispered to herself. She opened the fridge and pulled out the Brita pitcher and poured a glass of water. She drank it in one long draft. She poured a second glass before refilling the filter reservoir with tap water and returning the pitcher to the refrigerator.

She was hiding back to her bedroom when she noticed a note tucked beneath the saltshaker. She stepped to the table and picked up the note.

Janice,

I didn't want to wake you for dinner.