Michael's Mom Has Got It Going On

"Michael, would you come here for a minute?"

Susanna called to her son from her home office. Michael did not respond at once. He sat slouched on the sofa, on the other side of the house, playing Fortnite on the big-screen TV in the living room. It was late Sunday morning, and Michael didn't have to go to work.

"What is it, mom?" he shouted back, not moving a muscle to get up. He was in the middle of a game, and it was going well. He was keeping up, more or less, with his teammate and recent tournament champion Buttstomper467.

"Can you just come here? It's important," she called.

"Shit," he said out loud. At that moment his character was killed by an assault rifle burst from an unseen enemy. He tossed the game controller on the sofa and stood up. His mom seemed determined to see him, and Fortnite could wait.

Susanna sat at the computer in her office. As usual, the room was cluttered with her paintings and drawings. She swiveled around in her chair as Michael entered the room. She wore a threadbare, tie-dyed shirt, and it was obvious to Michael from the movement under it that she wasn't wearing a bra. For the hundredth time, Michael wished his mom wouldn't dress that way, because it agitated him to stare at her breasts swinging unfettered under the flimsy t-shirt. But Michael knew that going braless fit with his mother's newly adopted carefree, Bohemian image of herself, and he knew she wasn't going to stop. He glanced away from his mom to the computer screen. Susanna didn't appear to notice his agitation.

"I'd like you to see this," she said, pointing at the screen.

Michael stepped closer to see what she was looking at. A masthead with the words "Human Synergy Institute" stretched across the top of the screen. Underneath the heading were pictures of people with hands pressed together and eyes closed, expressions of bliss on their faces. They looked like they were meditating, or maybe achieving orgasm. It was hard to tell. The site looked vaguely Eastern and New Age-ish. Michael wondered what new thing mom was up to.

His eyes wandered to the mess on his mother's desk. His mother was careful about some things, but she was hopeless when dealing with paperwork. A phone bill was spread out next to the computer monitor, with a big number following the boldface words "Late Fee."

That would have to wait. He turned his attention back to the computer screen.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Remember I asked you not to make plans for next weekend?"

"Yeah, I remember. You said you wanted us to spend some 'quality time' together."

"That's right. This is what I want us to do. The Human Synergy Institute. A friend from my painting class told me about it. They put on workshops at a hot springs resort in the hills about two hours away. The workshops help people work out obstacles in their relationships. I want to attend a workshop there with you. We have some issues to work out, and this would be a nice way to do it. My friend said good things about them."

Michael looked at the computer screen, skeptical. This was his mom's kind of thing, but not his. Susanna had a Ph.D. in psychology and had spent most of her career as a clinical psychologist with a successful private practice. Seven years earlier, she'd given all that up to try becoming a full-time painter and poet. She'd had mixed success at her art ever since. But his mom never had shed her habit of thinking like a psychologist or of believing that there was no such thing as too much therapy or too much communication. Over the years Michael had attended several joint sessions with his mom with therapists to discuss his parents' divorce and his feelings about it. He wasn't eager to do more.

"Mom, I don't feel like we really have more issues to discuss. I'm fine with things. We get along well. We're good."

"Getting along doesn't mean there aren't things to work out. I've sensed some distance between us lately. I wonder if you are still angry. But, regardless, this is a great opportunity. Whatever you think about the relationship, it will be good time together for us. And it's not just workshops. The resort has some great pools and the scenery is beautiful. We can go hiking. I know you enjoy that."

Susanna was right about that. Michael always liked getting out in nature, and hiking in the hills was one of his favorite things to do. It was a great time of year for it, too: the summer was in its early days, with the trees full and green with foliage, scattered remnants of spring flowers still abloom in newly sunbaked fields. Michael wasn't so sure about the therapy, but the hiking sounded fun. It would only be one weekend. And he could tell his mom really wanted to do it.

"O.K., mom," he said. "Sure. I'm up for it."

Susanna jumped up and down twice. Her unclad breasts shook under the t-shirt. Michael looked away.

"Yay!" she said. "We'll have fun, Michael. And it will be good for us."

Michael doubted that, but he didn't want to argue with his mom. He already had told her he'd leave the weekend free to spend time with her. He intended to honor his promise, whatever she had in mind.

Michael didn't think there were any issues to work out with mom, though he knew that in the past, that hadn't been true. Seven years earlier, when Michael was thirteen, his mom suddenly quit her job as a psychologist. She had a mid-life crisis. Michael never knew what it was all about. He was just entering his teen years and still trying to navigate his way through the trials of adolescence without having to figure out his parents' problems.

Unfortunately, he couldn't extricate his life from his parents' marital crises. Not long after his mom left her job and started taking painting lessons, she had an affair with an art teacher. Michael's dad found out, and their marriage blew up. Later, he found out his dad had been having an affair with a secretary. So, neither parent was fully innocent and neither one was fully guilty in Michael's eyes. They got divorced. It sucked for Michael, at first. But as time passed, he realized his mom and dad never had been right for each other. They were happier in divorce. His dad married his secretary. His mom pursued her art and poetry. They grew as people. They remained as loving to Michael as ever. But there were scars, and they didn't heal right away.

That was a long time ago, however, and Michael thought he'd moved past it. He was a junior in college now, studying economics. College was several hours away, but he was living at home for the summer, alternating between his parents' houses while he worked as an assistant at a local real estate development company.

Two days after Susanna told Michael about her plans for the weekend, he was hanging out in the kitchen with his friend Connor. He'd just gotten home from work. He told Connor about his mom's plans for the coming weekend.

"So, you're going to this hot spring place with your mom, huh?" Connor asked. "Are you going to be naked?"

"No!" Michael said, offended. "We're not going to be naked. It's not like that. It's some kind of therapy workshop, where people work on relationships."

"If you say so," Connor said. "I thought those hot spring places were clothing optional. Whatever. Not that there's anything wrong spending the weekend naked with your mom."

"Connor!" said Michael, almost shouting.

"Hey, sorry," said Connor. "It's just . . . you know. It's your mom. You know what I mean."

Michael stared at his friend, not blinking.

"No. I don't know what you mean."

Susanna suddenly appeared in the kitchen. She wore a tight t-shirt and cutoff shorts.

"Hey Connor, it's nice to see you," she said. She opened the refrigerator, bent over, and pulled out a cup of non-fat yogurt.

"Nice to see you, too, Mrs. P," Connor said. Michael still stared at Connor, who stared at Susanna.

"What are you guys doing?" Susanna asked, turning around from the refrigerator with the yogurt in her hand. The t-shirt stretched tightly against her breasts.

"Not much," Michael said. "Just hanging out."

"Well, have fun," she said, and she walked away. Her shorts were short - short enough to reveal a thin strip of the skin of her butt cheeks over her lean thighs.

"Michael," Connor said, his gaze lingering after she disappeared behind the corner. "Your mom has got it going on."

"Connor, come on, that's my mom," Michael said, annoyed.

"No offense, sorry," Connor said, throwing his hands up. He changed the subject and started talking about a Fortnite tournament coming up in two weeks. He was excited about it, and two days earlier Michael had been excited about it as well, but right now he couldn't focus on it, instead mulling over what Connor had said about his mom.

"Connor, what did you mean?" Michael asked, interrupting his friend.

"Mean about what?"

"About my mom. When you said she's got it going on. What do you mean by that?"

Connor was flummoxed by the question. He couldn't say anything right away.

"Well, it's just . . . it's just that . . . she's just, you know."

"No, I don't know."

An uncomfortable pause punctuated their conversation.

"O.K., it's like this," Connor said. "Your mom's like, really smart and really educated, and she's got this intellectual way of talking about everything. Like she's got a psychological explanation for everything. You know what I mean?"

Michael did.

"Yeah, but what's that got to do with -"

"Because," Connor continued, "you can tell that's not all that's going on with her." He paused. "Don't be mad at me for saying this, O.K.?"

"Fine, fine. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying underneath all the intellectual talk and all the psychobabble stuff, your mom is . . .. She's hot. She's . . . sexy. No, not sexy . . . sexual. And she knows it. You can tell. She wants to be looked at that way. She gets off on it. I'm not trying to offend. But you can tell. Just saying how it is."

Michael had no idea what Connor was saying. He had never thought of his mom this way at all, and he had never noticed what Connor said he'd noticed. But he couldn't argue with Connor's characterization of what she'd looked like a minute earlier. The outfit she'd worn had been skimpy, and Michael had to admit to himself that her exposed legs looked good. He kept thinking about them, even while he wrestled to make sense of Connor's words.

"This is a weird conversation, Connor," Michael said.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to offend you. I'm just . . . I'm just saying how it is."

Michael wasn't convinced, but he let it go. Connor stood and looked at Michael awkwardly, until he told him it was time for to go home. After Connor left, Michael stood in the kitchen for a while thinking about what his friend had said and wondering if it was true.

xxx

The week went by fast. Work kept Michael busy and distracted him from thinking about the upcoming weekend with his mother. But Friday came, at last, and when it did, Michael took the afternoon off at Susanna's request, so they could drive to the hot springs resort and get there before evening.

The forecast was for warm weather, so Michael packed his bag with a few t-shirts, jeans, shorts, and other appropriate items. He tossed in a pair of sport sandals. Michael realized he had no idea what to expect from the place they were headed. He hadn't thought about it much that week. His only experience going to a hot spring was a short vacation his parents and he had taken to a resort in the mountains when he was 12. It was billed as a "family-friendly" place. Michael recalled that there was nobody his age to play with, and the place was full of little kids screaming and running around the whole time. It wasn't his idea of fun. He hoped the place mom was taking him was better. From what she'd said it sounded like they'd be cooped up for much of the time in a family therapy workshop, and that didn't sound like much fun, either. But mom really wanted to do it, and they hadn't been away together on a vacation for a while. The hiking sounded promising. And if there was a pool there might be cute girl or two in a bikini for Michael to ogle.

At last, Michael and Susanna piled into her car, an old Volvo that needed a new paint job, and they took off. Michael glanced at his mother sitting in the driver's seat as they drove down the street. She wore a loose-fitting long dress with flowers on it, and her frizzy blond hair drooped in a long pony-tail down her back. In the years since Susanna had left her counseling practice and become an artist, she'd taken on a more carefree, artsy look. Her inner hippie had emerged. Michael wasn't much of a hippie, and he sometimes looked askance at her transformation. He was still getting used to Susanna's new style. He guessed it fit with her self-image as an artist.

"So, mom, what do you know about the place?"

"Not much, Michael. They sent me some information online when I made the reservation, but I've been so busy with my paintings this week I haven't read it. I heard they have a nice yoga class. And you can get a great massage, so I thought we might try that out."

"So, it's not like that place we went to before? With all the screaming kids?"

"Oh no. This is adults only. No kids."

Thank goodness for that, Michael thought. It would be quieter, at least.

The sun was high in a bright blue and cloudless sky. It was warm - high 80s, at least. After an hour's drive Susanna exited the highway and turned on to a two-lane road that wound its way deeper into the tan hills. Olive-green stands of trees dotted the landscape. Michael noticed hawks soaring overhead. It was a pretty drive. Michael thought that if their destination was anything like their current surroundings, it would be a serene setting and a good place to relax. Mom and Michael sat in their seats quietly for a while when she broke the silence.

"There is something else you should know about it, if you don't know this already."

"What?" Michael asked.

"Some of the facilities at this hot spring are clothing-optional. The hot spring pools, I'm pretty sure, and I think the sauna, too. I'm not sure about the rest."

Michael was taken aback.

"Wait - clothing optional - you mean, like, nude? Like, people are hanging out nude at this place?"

"At parts of it, yes, but not all. And it's clothing optional, meaning you can go nude, but you don't have to."

Michael didn't find that reassuring, at all. His mind reeled at the idea that his mom was taking him to spend a weekend at a nudist resort.

"Why are we going someplace with nude people? I thought this was supposed to be about counseling with you and me, with some hiking and relaxation by the pool." Michael tried to keep cool, but his voice cracked with dismay and surprise.

"Well, it IS about that," Susanna said. "But the hot spring we're going to allows guests to take their clothes off. Nudity is not a big deal, Michael. When you take your clothes off you strip away the pretense and the armor you wear every day. It helps you focus on the issues you want to confront most. It helps you avoid distractions. That's what we're trying to do."

Michael thought about what she was saying. It sounded like psychobabble to him.

"Wait a minute," he said. "Are you saying you're going to go nude at this resort? You? With me? Mom, don't you think that's kind of . . . weird?"

"No, I don't, Michael," she said, and the scolding mother tone came through in her voice. "It's not weird. And, yes, I expect I'll spend some time there nude. You probably should, too."

"Crap, mom! Why should I get nude? I haven't done anything like this, before."

"Neither have I. Oh, your dad and I went to a nude beach once and I took off my top, but I haven't done anything like this. I think it will help break down barriers."

Michael wasn't sure what barriers he needed or wanted to break down. And if he did have any, he didn't think he had to take all his clothes off and parade his private parts in front of a bunch of nude hippies to break them down. He could not believe his mom wanted to do this, and that she hadn't told him about it until they were near their destination.

"You don't have to do anything, Michael," she said. "Like I said, it's clothing optional. That means you have the option to wear clothes."

She paused for a few minutes before speaking again.

"Michael, the point of this weekend is for us to be candid and honest with each other. The nudity is just part of stripping away the barriers to being honest. I want us to be honest with each other. Just think of it that way. But you don't have to be naked if you don't want to be. It's optional. The point is being honest, not being naked."

That provided some comfort, but it still left Michael facing the likelihood that, very soon, he would see his mother naked. He realized he never had. One time, he saw her walking topless in her bedroom when he walked in on her unannounced, but he'd never seen her without a bottom. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Michael thought his mother was pretty, no doubt about it. She was in her 40s, and her recently adopted style was more hippie-ish than he preferred, but she had a trim figure and full breasts and womanly hips. And he'd seen enough of her legs in shorts around the house to know they were still lean and youthful, with clear, unwrinkled skin. He admitted to himself he felt a tinge of excitement at the idea of seeing his mom lying naked out by a pool at the place we were going. But he felt uncomfortable about it, too. And he felt even more uncomfortable about the thought of the two of them lying around a pool naked together, with other naked people lying around them.

Michael's thoughts stewed with such images when he saw the sign ahead of them: "Anders Hot Springs."

They passed a curve in the road and reached their destination. He heard the crunch of gravel as the car left the road and entered a parking lot. Ahead of them, framed by dense shrubs on either side, was a large two-story Victorian-style house, with a wide porch and many windows. It was different from what he expected. Michael expected something that looked more run down, like it was operated by broke, aging hippies. But it wasn't like that at all. The grounds were well-manicured, and the paint job on the house looked new. Susanna parked in a space near the door and they got out.

They entered the main door with their bags and walked to the front desk, where a cheerful, youthful Asian woman with wedge-cut hair greeted them with a huge, white smile.

"Welcome to Anders Hot Springs! I'm Mimi. Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes," Susanna answered. "Susanna Penley and guest."

Susanna and Mimi processed the transaction for the room. Mimi then presented a form with tiny print with two blank signature lines at the bottom.

"This is for participation in the Human Synergy Institute program session this weekend," she said.

Michael thought the name "Human Synergy Institute" sounded odd. It sounded flaky. But this was his mom's show. Michael and Susanna scribbled their names on the paper without looking at it. Mimi handed each of them a key.

A door in the back of the room opened and a beautiful, slim blonde in tight-white shorts emerged from it.

"Varda will show you to your room," Mimi said, gesturing to the blonde.

"Follow me," Varda said.

Michael and Susanna followed her through the door to a small room behind the waiting room. Through yet another door she took them into a locker room, with many nicely varnished wooden lockers lining the walls and a few benches sprawled around.

"Is this your first time to Anders?"

"Yes," said Susanna.

"Let me go over the rules of the place. First, we don't allow any electronic devices like telephones, cameras, computers, or anything else on the grounds. We are off the grid and non-digital. We want our guests to be fully immersed in their surroundings during their stay, without distractions. So if you have such devices you have to put them in a locker." She pointed to two that were empty.