Mothers and Secrets

"Hey! I'm up Here!" He called back trying not to sound like his world had been turned on its ear.

"Great! I need some help with these groceries. Do you know any big strong men who could give me a big strong hand?"

Give her a big strong hand? For a moment the weight of his newfound knowledge seemed impossible to bear. It was completely typical of his mother to ask for help in this fashion. It was totally normal. Except that it obviously wasn't and had not been normal for years. Grant would need more time to explore the library of newfound knowledge his mother had buried in the internet. But for now...

"Graaaant! Please come! I need you!"

Goddamnit! Now everything sounds like innuendo. He alt+F4-ed out of every window on his laptop, then slammed it shut. "Hang on! I'm comm...I'm on my way." A quick hustle to the top of the stairs lead to the view of his mother waiting on the landing below. She was holding a paper bag in one arm. With the other, she was stroking her shoulder-length brown hair.

Is that a self-soothing habit or a nervous tick? Didn't I read something about her hair? I'll have to look into it when I get the chance.

She was radiating happiness at the sight of her son. "Hi, sweetie."

Grant had to blink at the sight. His mother seemed to have more dimension; as if he'd only ever interacted with a cardboard cut-out of Madeline before today. Now she was a three dimensional woman with unexpected depth and feelings. Her forehead glistened with a thin film of sweat. There was even new meaning to that, her wetness.

Madeline felt the intensity of Grant's gaze. She could only wonder what it might mean. Walking on to the kitchen would break the line of sight. No one wanted that. The mother of great secrets smiled at her handsome son and swung her shoulders from side to side. "Baby?"

Grant squinted his eyes shut and shook his head. Of Course. Baby. This is my mother here. Wake up!

"Yeah. Sorry." He started down the steps towards her. "Here, give me that bag. Let's get these groceries unloaded."

His mother smiled her warmest as she handed her burden over to his care. "Okay. Here ya' go. I've got more in the car." She headed to the garage door as Grant moved towards the kitchen.

He watched her retreating figure, and a thought from last night came to him. This time the idea was more fleshed out. She's got a good frame. Good posture. Solid legs. No flat-ass; nice and round. It wouldn't take much to shed what little flab is there, and tone up the rest. A few months of light training. Or a few weeks of intensive training. Probably something in between. That plus a tweak or two to the diet, and I could have her competing with girls half her age. It was the sort of thought he would have while preparing to train a new client at the gym. Half a day ago, he might have said it to his mother's face. But now? Now everything was different. Hell, at least getting her fit would get Dad off her back. But immediately the next thought followed. Of course you know exactly who she wants ON her back AND front.

"Whatever," he said to himself aloud. Madeline was already in the garage digging out more bags. "Just stow the fucking groceries."

His head swam, overrun with new thoughts of a new world with a very new Mom. Madeline brought in the next two bags of groceries.

"You okay, Grant? You look flushed."

"Yeah, mom. It's just..." He rubbed the back of his neck, and stared at the floor "Just got a lot on my mind."

Ever the attentive and concerned mother, she stopped unpacking. "About what? Not that silly girl at work, because..."

"No. Nothing to do with her. It's all sorts of...other stuff flying around in my head."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Too much. Jumping around too fast." It was true enough, and he struggled with what he would tell.

Madeline took Grant's arm, and hugged it. His toned bicep was snug between his Mamma's mammaries. She stared at him, but he refused to make eye contact. "Take a deep breath," she urged. "Find one thought. And spit it out."

He sucked in as much air as his lungs would take. His mind focused on one particular text he'd read about how his father treated his mother. Exhaled. Reflected on the thought He'd had when he saw Madeline walking to the garage. He inhaled enough to speak, and only barely knew what he would say when it came out. "I'm going to help you get into better shape."

His mother's grip on his arm tightened and then eased. His mind felt a fair bit clearer.

Madeline's grip loosened, and she leaned back from her beloved son. "What? Wh-?"

He turned to look her In the eye. Assertive. Assured. "I don't like the shots dad takes at you about your weight."

"You think I'm fat too?" her eyes were wide with pain. She released his arm, and put a hand on her stomach.

"Not at all. I think you're wonderful as you are." She looked hesitant. "I was just thinking like a trainer. You're in good shape. With a little guidance you could be in great shape in no time. It wont take much. You've already got it all. We're going to make a beautiful woman fitter. Healthier. You know what I say. It's not about being thinner it's about being..--"

"--Healthier," she finished from him. "But your father says-"

"I know what he says." Madeline looked away, sure that Grant couldn't possibly know how vicious his Gabe could be. "I've noticed the digs he takes at you at dinner, at the cookout last summer and when you've tried to cuddle up with him on the couch." He knew there was more, but there was no way to say so without making his mother feel worse. The best he could offer was, "Don't you believe a word of it, Mom." He took a deep breath, and looked at the bags spread across the kitchen. "First thing we need to do is make some changes to the diet we keep around here."

His mother shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, sure, I'd like to..." She pinched an inch at her waistline. "...firm things up." She let her hands slide down her backside. Grant couldn't guess what she thought about her ass, but he couldn't say his opinion. At least not yet. "But," she faltered." When I think of how Dad might..."

Her son's strong hands grabbed her upper arms. He was right in front of her, staring into her face. So powerful; almost angry. "We are going to show him that he has no idea what he's been ignoring." The smile returned to Madeline's lips. "Before we're done, no one will guess that he could ever have been your husband or my father. Hell, you'll be so youthful and fit, no one will be able to guess you and I are family. Their best guess will be that he's some stranger, nothing to do with us, and I'm some boy-toy of yours."

Madeline's mouth fell open. Grant could hardly believe what he'd said either. Reading his mother's online words must have muddled his mind. He released her, and tried for a self assured tone. "Now, I want you to take the groceries out of these bags, but don't put them away. I'll go print out the diet guidelines we will be following from now on. After I bring the list, we will divide the food into regular foods, special rewards and crap that needs to get out of the house."

A meek awe shone in her eyes, and a her mouth was a brilliant smile. "Yeh...Ye...Yeah, okay. Okay, Grant." She looked away, as if her son were the sun and it hurt to stare. "Let's do it."

Madeline got to work. She focused on her assigned task.

What the fuck did I just say? What am I doing? He shook his head in disbelief. He'd never guessed he had anything like that in him. He had never even been that firm and direct with his clients. I need to get out of here. But he knew that wasn't an option. He'd said he would print out the diet list. He'd said he would help his mom separate the food. Okay. But I'll need to lie down after. This is too much.

***

I used to wear my brown hair in a cute little pageboy. The sides covered the tips of my ears. One humid summer day -- when I was struggling to understand my attraction to my son -- I came home from the salon. I spotted him in the back yard throwing a baseball around with his friends. I went to tell him I was home. His amazing body was glistening with sweat. I have no idea what any of the others looked like. I only had eyes for him. He smiled, greeting me. I felt my chest tighten and my nipples harden. I asked him how he liked my haircut. It was an excuse to keep looking at his wonderful physique. He told me it looked nice. But then he twisted his torso towards me for a careful look. The movement of muscle under his bronzing skin was hypnotizing. He said, "But I think you'd look nicer with long hair. Down to your shoulders, ya' know?"

I never got a pageboy cut again. It grew to my shoulders in the following months as my acceptance of my feelings for him grew. I have kept it long to this day, even when he is off in college. I doubt he ever noticed. He may not even remember saying anything. I wear it this way for myself; for my own knowledge. It is my silent secret show of dedication. When I run my fingers through the long hair, it is an affirmation. It is a silent whisper, "I love you."

MadMommy1980's reply to SweetDevotSon1998's public post "What Do You Do For YOUR Mom/Son?" Posted 18 months ago

***

Grant took deep breaths to clear his head while he printed the list.

He and Madeline divided the groceries.

"Your father won't be happy about this," his mother warned.

"His happiness isn't my highest priority right now," he answered without looking up.

She stopped moving; staring at him again.

The good son kept inspecting produce as he spoke. "I'm not saying his happiness isn't a priority at all. I'm just saying that your happiness and all our health is higher up than his love for grease and fat."

"He won't like you trying to make that choice for him."

"He's a grown man." How many times had his dad used that statement to shrug off Grant's requests? "He can buy himself something else or prepare a meal now and then. But if your hands are picking up the food and preparing the meals, I want you to prepare meals that will bring greater health and happiness to your wonderful body."

He knew that positive statements about her shape would be an important part of helping her, as long as it was true. She did have a wonderful form. She was a healthy woman in fair shape. The dietary changes and the workouts to come would only improve things. It'll be impossible to believe Dad's criticisms.

It could also help him find clarity about his mother's shocking secret. Perhaps improved health and self-image would give her the confidence to stand up to her husband and improve her life. Maybe, as her confidence lifted, her focus on Grant would pass. Spending time together in the platonic pursuit of fitness could give him a clearer picture of his mother. Maybe she would return to seeing him only as her son.

Or will this all blow up in my face? Can it make her even hotter for me? Maybe... He struggled to face the possible converse: Could it make him hot for her? She may even reject me in a rotten stroke of irony. Whatever. If this leads to my mother being in better health -- happier, even -- then it's a good course of action.

He stood straight, and closed the fridge. "I'm going upstairs. I'll piece together a workout plan. It should be ready by tomorrow."

"Workout? You mean in the basement where you lift weights and stuff? You're gonna make me pump iron?"

"Don't worry. You won't have to do anything you can't handle. Your personal trainer will guide you all the way."

Madeline stood with her hands behind her back. It was impossible to ignore how this propped her round breasts. "Okay." She smiled at her son.

"Please don't disturb me for an hour or two. Remember: When you make dinner, make something healthy."

His mother's eyes shined; gray clouds on blue sky. Her smile shone like the dawn. "I will, sweetheart. I'll make it extra good for you."

Grants balls ached at her words. He couldn't tell if it was distress or unresolved excitement. I'm so fucked up in the head right now. "Okay. Remember: Do Not Disturb."

He went to his room. He only needed ten minutes to choose and print a workout plan for his mother. It wasn't a big deal. He would modify the plan as needed. Every remaining minute before dinner was spent in a deep dive of the many writings of MadMommy1980.

***

Well, the great restaurant critic, Craig Clairborne said, "Cooking is at once child's play and adult joy. And cooking done with care is an act of love." Child's play? Adult joy? An act of love? Sounds like a fit to me.

Reply from MadMommy1980 to RoosterBoy777's public post, "How Do I Keep things Fresh With Mom? (Ideas Please!)" Posted two years ago.

***

Grant knew his mom was down in the kitchen, away from her laptop. But she could be accessing the community with her phone. It didn't matter. As long as he looked without trying to move or change anything, there would be no way for her to detect his intrusion. He'd already checked her e-mail for notices of use from a new device. There had been none. The site endeavored to be exclusive in its way, but it was not a high tech system.

He didn't kid himself that he was being perfectly moral. Hell, who could claim to be moral in this situation? But this way was the kindest. The more he read his mother's secret thoughts, the more he was convinced. If I confronted her about this she would freak out. It says here that she would want me to decide what happens. I guess she wouldn't want me to lie to her, but she also seems sure and happy keeping it a secret from me. I should know what I think and want before I pop that bubble.

Even then, keeping it to myself may be best.

He read private messages and public posts. The system even made it easy to track down replies she'd written on other public posts. There were photos too. Mom had been busy.

The photos held his interest for a short while. They were mostly pictures from family parties and trips in which only he and his mother could be seen. They were fully clothed, usually embracing, and their faces were always blurred.

A single exception was the most recent picture. It showed only Madeline. She wore a blood red panties-and-bra. Her pose emphasized her full chest and minimized her waistline. Her face was blurred out like in the other pictures, but she had attached a caption: A size too small, but I can't bear to return it. My husband has never seen these. I'll only ever wear them for my man.

Grant took a long stare at his near-naked mother, and he meditated on how many times she may have been wearing that outfit beneath her clothes for him.

He moved on to the writings. There was far too much to digest before dinner. His mother desired a great many things, not just a roll in the hay with her son. She wanted to stop daydreaming so much. She yearned to feel safe in the arms of a strong man, yet free to walk on her own in her public life. She cherished the fulfillment she found in serving and sought to be appreciated for all she gave in that service. His mom dreamed of feeling desirable and sexy. And she wanted all of that with her beloved Grant.

But a common thread was the endeavor to embrace it as a hopeless fantasy.

The young fitness instructor didn't know if he was willing or able to offer all of that. But by the time his father got home and Madeline called him to dinner, Grant was resolved on one thing: His mother should have a better life.

He would at least help her improve some things. He could guide her in improving her shape, drive her towards being present; away from the daydreams. He planned to show appreciation for all the ways she had served him all these years and praise her role as a strong woman in her public life. In private? That was uncertain. But he was determined to help his mom. Her writings helped him see how.

Grant descended into the living room and was hit with the smell of rich curry. His mouth filled with saliva.

His father's voice carried from the kitchen. "Yes, you--" There was a quiet delay before he continued, "woman. I already said it smells good. I just want to know where the meat is. That will make a fine side dish, but--"

His mother came in low but the younger man could hear it on the approach. "We can skip the meat. This is healthier."

"Look, Maddie, I am all for you shedding some pounds. You want to eat like a bird? Go ahead. But I--"

"Seriously, Gabe? Does this look like bird food to you?" her tone was sharpening.

"Smells like a good family meal," Grant chimed as he entered the kitchen. He gave his mother a one arm hug, so they could stand side by side facing the stove. "What did you make, Mom?"

"It's sautéed slices of red peppers and onion in a butter curry sauce with baby spinach leaves mixed in. We'll eat it with basmati rice." In the large pan were red pepper and off-white onion strips with dark green clumps of softened spinach, all swimming in a rich yellow curry sauce.

"And no beef or chicken to eat it all with," rumbled the father.

Madeline's tall strong son squeezed gently at her waist, and ignored her husband. "Any seasoning besides the curry?"

He could feel Madeline's shoulders descend in relief at her son's embrace and support. "Just salt and pepper. I was thinking of adding a little vegetable soup bullion to round out the taste, but I don't think we'll need it."

Grant kept his right arm around his mother's waist. He reached across her body with the left hand to pick up a small fork. The younger man jabbed and scooped up a bit of each type of sauce-covered vegetable. The fork hovered between his mouth and Madeline's. He blew gently. Madeline shivered against his side. Her son put the fork in his mouth and closed his eyes.

"This is amazing, and it'll taste even better with the rice."

As Madeline nodded with enthusiasm, Gabe broke in. "Set the table, Kid. I'll need a beer with this if I'm gonna have a chance of getting full."

Grant gave his mother a quick double squeeze, and was surprised to get one back on his left hip. He hadn't even noticed his mother returning the embrace. They locked eyes, and the good son spoke loud enough for his words to seem directed at his father. "Happy to help."

He broke from Madeline, and moved to the cupboard with the flatware. His father half mumbled, "Might as well, living under my roof rent free."

Grant shook his head and set the table. As he bent to lay the first plate, a pair of soft hands reached out to take hold of his face. Madeline pulled him, bent sideways, into an awkward pose so she could kiss him on the cheek. He couldn't help smile. "Thank you," she whispered.

His cheek burned like it had been pinched. Well into the meal the sensation lasted.

***

I love how the basement smells after he's been working out. I always find an excuse to go down there after he's finished. I breathe it in and hold it inside as long as I can. If it were possible, I'd never let go of his scent.

From a direct messaging thread between MadMommy1980 and Romantriarch 20 days ago

***

Gabe ate dinner without further complaint. He wiped curry sauce from his mouth, and admitted that it had been good. He couldn't resist adding, "It would've been better with some pieces of chicken breast. But, hey, if it helps trim down your thunder thighs, I guess a meal like this once in a while is okay."

He drew back from the table so his gut could clear the tabletop when he stood with zero sense of irony.

Both Madeline and Grant watched him go without a word. The young man was stunned by his father's total lack of self-awareness. His mother was doing her best to clamp down the shame she felt at her husbands words.