My Other Mother Ch. 06byAmeaner©
After Mum gave me another cup of her magic potion, I was out on the streets. I didn't think it would be a good idea to linger in the park behind the office building after dark, so I found my way down to the water's edge, along the boardwalk behind the hotel where I met Pastor Marx the night before. Judging by the festivities along Market Slip, it was a good bet that I'd see her there again.
I'd earlier walked a few steps around the corner to get a look, seeing the crowded outdoor tables within their little gated off areas. There were three different, large bars in a row that all seemed to be sharing the same music, at least on the outside, and the volume of the people themselves rivaled that of the dance tune pumping from the large, black speaker cases. The slipway itself was enjoying a nice turnout, not a throng by any means, but there were few seating areas left along the outer edge overlooking the water.
I stepped back around and moved to where I'd been the night before, looking out over the dark water with the lights of the city reflecting from its glassy smooth surface.
I really wasn't thinking of much. It seemed there wasn't much to think about anymore and it wasn't as though it was hard to figure out where Mum stood.
I still wasn't sure if Roxanne was Joe's willing or forced friend when she entered our room earlier that evening, but there was no doubt whose friend she was when she left. Mum very neatly just... assimilated her. Resistance wasn't just futile, it wasn't even considered and it happened right under Joe's nose, right in front of him.
I imagined Mum sitting home on the bed, her hands brought together as though in prayer with her mated index fingers touching her lips as she stared at the opposite wall, analyzing and strategizing around this unintentional gift from Joe with those unsettling, predatorial eyes.
Only the water heard that and saw my smile as I appreciated how funny it really was. Mum did say he was stupid.
I allowed my smile to fade, but not entirely. I was actually in a contented and peaceful mood, much like I was when I was laying out with Mum at the beach earlier that day. This was why I wasn't particularly stressed when I noted how different it seemed out here, around town and other people as opposed to being with her in the nowhere land of our room on the fourth floor. Standing there, it still seemed impossible that we'd done those things, that we enjoyed them even, but it was getting easier to accept. Perhaps to be more precise, it was easier for me if I did.
My other mother was really pretty cool, apart from some odd mood swings and those eyes. Sure, she kinda scared me at times, but those times were relatively few and the rest of the time she was... quite simply, the best.
After a while I got a little bored and decided to move on, but this time, instead of going around the hotel, I walked down the slip through the milling people, their music and frivolities. It was odd, the sensation that I was moving through them as a foreign body, an alien that was there but had such little importance or connection to what was going on, or to those that were making it go on, that I wasn't even seen. It fueled the small contented smile I'd retained from behind the hotel as I looked about me, unseen and insignificant. It was freedom. It may have been Mum's magic potion.
Leaving the slip, I ambled along in the general direction of home, straight through another uptown party zone with bars and pool halls operating out of bicentennial architecture. Modern music pumped from the open doors to the crooked sidewalks along with occasional cheering from the establishments that featured live bands. The sea of nineteen to thirty-somethings, even some that were my about my mother's age, danced and laughed up and down the sidewalks, crossing narrow streets where shiny muscle cars, tuners and police cruisers idled, the revelers on their way to different bars or to the slip.
We saw each other at the same time. I happened to be looking across the street at an Irish bar and saw her sitting out front in a low, deep set window casing. The Pastor was talking to two young women with their backs turned towards me and signaled as I waved.
Crossing the street, I waited a short distance off, leaning against the building and watching as she opened her bible, flipped a few chapters ahead and read a short selection. I couldn't make out her words, but watched as the two young women paid attention, nodding and smiling when Marx closed the book and went on for a short time. They conversed for a few more minutes before bidding her goodbye and I walked up as they were crossing the street to a different bar.
"Hi, pastor Marx. Business is good, huh?"
She chuckled and moved over, patting the spot beside her.
I sat as she asked, "How have you been?"
"Persevering. How's it going with your inconvenient truth?"
" ... Once you adapt to it, it's no longer so inconvenient."
"I can see the possibilities in that," she admitted with a smile.
"Yeah, you can't imagine," I laughed, this understatement striking me as being quite comical.
"Would this adaptation work for Al Gore? Would it settle his mind?"
"It would if he decided to just give up on the whole effort of saving the planet as a useless waste of time, yeah. I mean, if he just went ahead and bought a big gas guzzler, maybe some stock in the oil sands, stopped recycling and stuff."
"Ah. But that would mean selling out his principals."
"Not selling out so much as bowing to the greater force. The inconvenient truth."
"Faith in God requires submission to Him as your ultimate truth. It's like that wisdom I prayed for, you know? Inconvenient at times, but you have to bow to it as the greater force once you see it for what it is. When things are good with Him, you want to, can't wait to."
"That is interesting," I said. You must run a pretty cool church."
"You're looking at it."
"I mean the place where you have Sunday services and stuff."
"I don't have an actual church building."
"Oh. So, you're kinda like a Missionary." I assumed.
"Kinda like that. I have a day job. Want to come on my rounds with me?"
"I can't go into bars, remember?"
"It's okay; I usually don't go in anyway."
We made our ambling way around, she stopping to talk to people she knew, some she didn't. After an hour or so, we grabbed a hotdog and pop again like last time and we sat on a bench with our snack, watching the social scene move around us.
"Your mother wouldn't mind me taking you around to all the bars?"
"You're not exactly sneaking me in and getting me drunk."
"She might think I have been once she gets a whiff of your breath."
"Well, you know..." I shrugged, "I was at a buddy's house earlier. No big deal."
"Won't she get mad?"
"Probably not as long as I'm staying out of trouble. Anyway, it's kind of a one off."
"Last night, too? I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be nosy, but..."
"But you don't want to look like a bad influence. Don't worry, it's just sort of my birthday weekend and I thought I'd treat myself. Besides, I'm not drunk or anything."
"Okay. ... You know, Steven, I'm a pretty good listener. I've been known to give some pretty sound advice on occasion, too."
("You just have to look along the shores and you'll find us all over, rotting in the sun.")
" ... I believe that. You're a nice person."
"Thank you. So are you, but you're also... kind of unique."
"Yes. It's hard to say how, but you have this quality. Like some day the world will have its way with you, or you'll have yours with it."
"Wow. Well, whatever way it works out, both me and the world will have to answer to Mum if we screw it up."
She thought that was pretty funny and seemed mostly satisfied that I was being well and properly looked after by a responsible and caring parent. She asked how old I was, wished me a happy birthday and we talked about every day things for a little while after we finished our snack. When the time got close to one, she got up to finish off her rounds, me to go home.
"It's been a slice," she said.
"Yeah, it was. If I'm around again next weekend, I'll look for you."
"Please do, and God bless."
I watched her ass while she walked away. Again, it's not why I liked her, she just had a nice ass. Walking home, I wondered if the men from the bars ever hit on her, if any were successful.
Mum, as I'd earlier imagined, was sitting on the bed when I entered, her back against the headboard with her hands in that prayer position, index fingers touching a serene smile that didn't reflect in her eyes.
She was wearing her nightie and her legs were casually spread, one bent at the knee and sticking up, the other bent and lying on the mattress. The crotch of her light blue panties was clearly visible and her nipples were still hard as ever behind her barely supportive nightie. Of course, I started getting stiff at the sight of this.
"Hey, sweetie pie."
"Hi, Mum. Am I back too soon?"
"Not at all."
I closed the door behind me and took a seat at the table, staring at the inconvenient truth I'd bowed to.
"You're so fabulous," I told her.
She smiled warmly at this and opened her legs further, having seen where my eyes rested, asking, "Did you have a nice time out?"
"Uh huh. It's been a great birthday all around. Thanks a lot."
"No problem, I'm just glad you enjoyed it. It's been quite a day though, and I've got things to do tomorrow. Why don't you take off all your clothes and turn out the light? Get in bed with me."
I did as she suggested, leaving my boxers on with a slightly embarrassed smile about the situation within them when I turned out the light. It seemed foolish at that point, but I was still getting used to the idea of Mum and I being together in that way.
"Sweetie pie, I did say all your clothes." She reminded with a raised brow and an expectant grin.
I wordlessly pushed them down and off while she sat forward, watching me in the streetlight.
"So, what do you think of Roxanne?" she asked out of the blue. "Honestly?"
" ... She's a whore."
"Maybe. ... You should be nice if you see her," she judged, moving down on the bed and making room. "Not overly nice, but... you know what I mean."
"Okay," I said, getting in with her.
"You saw what happened, didn't you?"
"Good. ... Did you like when she undressed me?"
"Yeah. Did you?"
"And... when she was sucking your nipples?"
"Uh huh. That felt nice and I loved that you were watching."
"It was pretty good, wasn't it?"
"Mmmm. ... You think she's attractive?"
"Yeah, but not like you are. And like you said, I find it hard to believe she'd be happy with Joe."
"Hmm. ... You wanna play Drawback?"
I smiled and reached to start untying the string at the back of my mother's neck, saying, "Yeah. But... can I play with your tits and suck on your nipples after?"
"Of course, honey."
I woke up somewhat early and turned over to see her sipping a hot coffee and smoking a cigarette, dressed in one of my long, button up shirts with a towel wrapped around the top of her head. She smiled sweetly and, in a voice as peaceful as tiny silver bells, told me to go back to sleep.
I woke up again at twenty after twelve. She was gone and it was an overcast Sunday, the first day that had been anything but bright and warm since we'd been there. It seemed hard to believe that it'd been less than a week.
Yesterday's liquor still resided in my head to a small degree, kind of a mild afterglow that dampened slightly the sudden, impossible memory of eating my mother out till she came the night before.
Finally getting up with a hardon, I stuffed a peanut butter sandwich down my throat. By the time I'd showered, brushed my teeth and got dressed, the afterglow was gone and I sat on our bed with a sort of devastated smile. I remembered Pastor Marx's comment about selling out and I didn't know what to think.
After an hour of Gran Turismo, I decided to go look into something before it started pissing down outside.
I'd determined on the way to the Library that I needed a more direct information gathering process, so when I got there I went straight to one of the public computers and logged on, searching for information on alternate personalities caused by liquor consumption. While there doesn't seem to be a scientifically established term, or even recognition of it, there are plenty of people who seem to have experienced it.
After a while, I gave up trying to find any proper study of the matter and went to look up the actual meaning of a word that had been bouncing around at the back of my mind.
Psychopath -- A person who is somewhat like a sociopath in the way that he or she lacks empathy, but also actually gains satisfaction through antisocial behaviour. They don't experience shame, guilt or remorse for their actions or the hurt they cause others and often justify themselves, even blaming others. They display tactlessness, contemptuousness and insensitivity, though often have a superficial charm about them. Any genuine emotion is short lived and then they're back to an overall cold demeanor. Charisma, manipulation, intimidation, sexual intercourse and violence are all tools of the psychopath in his or her efforts to satisfy their own needs and they can often 'blend in' with so-called normal people in many environments.
There was more, some of which didn't fit my other mother, but there was enough that did to make me worry. I went back to the computer to research how alcohol relates to psychopathy and that's when I found something that explained the lack of scientific research on the question. A person either has a mental disorder, or they do not. If they do, they often tend to expose themselves when they drink.
I left the Library just before they closed at five, the leaden clouds overhead expressing perfectly how I felt as I jammed my hands in my pockets and started for home, head down as though clarity in all I read and how it related to my mother might be spotted on the sidewalk. Tempting the rain, I diverted up King Street and across the square to the next park, the one behind the office building that had my preferred bench. This time, I sat up on the back with my feet on the seat, knees spread as I looked at the park, focusing on nothing.
"It's not as if she's done anything." I mumbled in her defense.
"No... no, she hasn't, but I believe... ultimately, she will," I replied.
"No grounds for that."
"It's a hunch. I'm worried."
"She doesn't even completely fit any of the mental disorders we held her up against and a lot of people display the kind of behaviour she does. It doesn't mean they're crazy, it just means they're... intense. Mum, or our other mother if you prefer, is just a very intense... con artist type."
" ... Yeah..."
"She's been drinking, people change when they drink. Fuck, we were pushing people into the pool after the prom, then you grabbed Staci and hopped in yourself."
"Shit, she was mad."
"Sure she was. That's my point."
"Fuck her, she's just a useless little whore. It's all about Mum."
"Just trust her like she says and keep your promise later on, when she's done doing whatever it is she's doing."
" ... But, I don't like how she doesn't seem to fit any recognized psychological disorders. The differences are too fundamental. Psychopaths, according to our information, lack foresight and often fail in life. That doesn't sound like her at all."
"Psychiatry is a bullshit work in progress. Most of the disorders we read about today shared a lack of foresight and a lot of other symptoms in common and it's not as if everybody's gonna be a 'classic case'. If they were that common, the term wouldn't exist."
"Yeah... Maybe that's my point. I don't know."
"If you think about it, she really hasn't done anything," I repeated.
" ... No. ... And that's kinda part of it, too. She'd be displaying that kind of radical behaviour way more often, but she's not. That's another way she doesn't fit any known profiles."
" ... Sooo... She's not crazy."
"I didn't say that. I just... There's something I'm not quite catching here."
"It's those eyes." I blurted.
" ... Yes. Those eyes."
"But, it's not like they actually change colour. Not really, they just seem brighter and with that strange, opposing darkness. People's eyes do sometimes seem to change under different lighting."
"I don't think that's the case here. Neither do you."
"No. ... Remember the slumlady?"
"Oh, yeah. I think... I think she got a good look."
I paused in conversation with myself, looking around and up at the clouds while I noted the scent of rain in the air. People over in King Square were walking a little faster than they usually did and all the benches appeared to be unoccupied from my vantage point.
"So, what the fuck are you saying?"
After a long pause, I replied, "I don't know."
I stood up on the bench, taking a deep breath and stretching before stepping down to the pavement and starting for home once again, sighing the last words of my conversation.
"Somehow, I'm just worried that sex with Mum may end up being the least of our worries."
Despite the clouds, I dilly dallied along, taking my time and vaguely enjoying my game of chicken with them. I finally opened the steel door and walked in, up the staircase to the fourth floor and down the dim lit hall to our room.
Mum was lying on the bed, propped up with our pillow and the two blankets between her back and the headboard like she was the night before. However, this time Roxanne was lying on her back between her spread legs. Her head reclined on Mum's chest and she was fast asleep.
She put her finger to her lips and beckoned me the rest of the way inside, stroking the brunettes hair and scalp with her slow, gentle fingers. Quietly closing the door, I stood and stared.
They were both fully clothed, Mum in a knee length, dark blue summer skirt and a white, short sleeved blouse, Roxanne in snug black jeans and a black, short sleeved cotton shirt with plunging neckline. Their clothed condition didn't stop my meat from twitching despite my complete surprise. Mum smiled up at me while I moved slowly to the table and took my seat, the very kind of smile the Borg Queen might flash as her nano-probes course through your-
"How was your day?" she whispered.
I suddenly wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of the question, given the present circumstances, but managed to keep it to a great big smile as I nodded, looking at them both. After a minute, I turned on the TV and began playing video games on low volume. What the hell else could I do?
About two hours later, after it started raining buckets and in the middle of a rather intense firefight with a German position, I heard, "Uh-h? Wh-?"
I glanced over in time to see Roxanne coming more fully awake. Mum had also fallen asleep and was now waking with her new friend.
"I... must've fallen asleep. I'm sorry."
"Mmmmm... S'okay, Roxy. So did I."
'Roxy' sighed, then settled unsure eyes on me as Mum's fingers kneaded and caressed her shoulders. "Hi, Steven."
"Hi." I replied politely like Mum had instructed as a sniper was shooting me dead.
"Oh, they got you." She needlessly pointed out in a sleepy voice.
"Don't feel sorry for him, he cheats."
"Oh, sure." I lightly scoffed.
"Come over and give your mum a kiss," she replied with a playful smile.
I complied with Mum's directive, albeit a little nervously with Roxanne right there and my other mother's unpredictability. But it was just a simple, lingering kiss on the lips that I enjoyed as usual. I didn't look directly into her eyes.