My Other Mother Ch. 08

" ... Tomorrow night's Friday night."

"I know. I wonder what he'll have us do this time?"

"Roxy's gonna be there with him, right?"

"Uh huh. She'll be telling us what to do like last time, too."

"That'll be interesting. Hey, you're not gonna rig the game, are you?"

"No, that'd be no fun. ... There's something about performing like that."

" ... Yeah," I agreed with a smile.

"Oh, I see that perverted mind working."

"Like mother, like son, huh?"

She got a pretty good laugh out of this, saying afterwards, "I love the effect we have on Joe when he's watching. Roxy, too. Too bad Joe has to be taught."

"What are you going to do to him?"

"I haven't been sure, but lately... Well, I've discovered a little... something. I'm getting some ideas."

"I almost feel sorry for him."

"He had his chance."

Part 4

I was depressed the next day.

It didn't start right away, not when I got up or during breakfast with Mum, rather a few minutes after we kissed goodbye and while I was walking to work. Maybe it was the heavy clouds that threatened the rainstorm Wilfe advised we all pray fervently against that brought it on, I don't know, but it was as heavy as the clouds and brought along with it a feeling of impending self-destruction.

I didn't think much as I worked that morning, wallowing in my mood instead as the rain came down in buckets outside. Sure enough, we were soon standing in mud that threatened to top our boots and two men, me and a guy named Bruce, were pulled off the dig team to help the ever failing sumps keep up by filling buckets of mud from the floor.

Wilfe and Jimmy were covered from trying to keep those sumps working, half of us, myself included, went down in the muck to the applause of others and I saw three rats desperately scampering/swimming through it to the high ground between us. The one that made it past the business end of my shovel scurried up the old rock and cement foundation and through a hole less than half its size.

Poor Bruce, a tough looking man who appeared to be crowding sixty, was having a pretty hard time of it on his end and had to be replaced and rested for fifteen minutes before he could go back to digging the high ground away with the others. I watched him surreptitiously, wondering how many years he'd been doing this kind of thing, having to admire his dogged stamina. Since I'd begun working for Wilfe, I'd seen eight much younger and fitter guys than he simply stop, get the pay they'd earned for the day at that point and quit.

It was still pouring down when it was my turn to be the one man bucket brigade outside the window, but it was a relief. The rain beat down on me, rinsing the dirt and mud from my clothing, body and soul as I laboured, finally beginning to think of something beyond the dark addiction to my current mood.

It still bothered me, having sex with Mum. I'd stepped over a personal and social boundary that could never be re-crossed, even though we wouldn't actually fuck and even if we stopped doing what we were doing. And I'd done it so easily, giving in to my own perversion and how it grabbed hold of the idea once it was presented, how I so easily rationalized it in the true interest of what my cock wanted from her. It bothered me that this guilt would go away once I was with her again, and it would too, I knew. It always did.

Didn't that mean that those feelings for her mightn't even be real? If so, what if hers for me were no more real? She was the one who teased me, made it alright, my other mother who was always there, but with a much stronger presence since we'd arrived in Saint John. I suddenly wondered if she hadn't somehow put some kind of Jedi spell on me, like the way Marie did. And just exactly what was it that she'd 'discovered'?

My stomach began to cramp when my thoughts led me to the next logical one. What if, furthermore, my other mother brought out what would amount to 'her other son' when I was around her without me even knowing? Making me easier, more agreeable to what would normally be appalling and unthinkable... It would certainly explain things. I emptied a bucket of sludge over the pile inside the open gated dumpster, dropped the bucket and doubled over, bracing my gloved hand against the side to wait out an intense cramp.

This one felt like a red hot cable, slowly tightening in a knot around my guts, and a moment later I groaned painfully, the sound echoing inside the steel structure along with the driving rain.

I remembered Mum's tales of 'the misery sisters', the horrible little things they used to do, and compared them to those ideas I'd always get at school, how they turned to dares inside my head like another person(ality?) driving me on. I remembered Joe's expression when he looked close at me that time in our room and almost physically repelled the idea of him seeing the empty, bottomless, light absorbing blackness there that I saw in Mum's.

I groaned louder in mounting pain and, making it to the end of the dumpster, I closed the gate before going back to the ever growing pile of dirt that was quickly turning to mud to drop my pants. Inglorious as it sounds, I relieved myself right there. I would have one way or another anyway. By the time I was done, most of the pain had vanished and someone was yelling my name from the window.

Three buckets had piled up and I had to hustle, but their contents covered over my mess and the shirt pocket I had to use to clean myself up with. By then, the pain had mostly gone away, leaving in its place an attitude of forced neutrality with myself in the sense that it all seemed too unreal to be actually happening outside some totally warped dream. I'd been avoiding the personal aspect to what was going on and for good reason. For one thing, it was too disturbing to deal with and for another, I couldn't ever hope to help Mum if I was all messed up on myself.

"You're alone in this," I mumbled as I grabbed another full bucket and headed for the dumpster. "She may have had a good idea about what you could expect from her when she hit the bottle, but she didn't have a clue about what's really going on with her. Not even our other mother did, not like we do."

"She knows she's... separate from Mum," I replied. "At least that's the way she sees it, going by the way she's referred to herself."

"She probably just thinks she's a different personality."

"She must have looked into mental disorders like we have. She's gotta know that something inside her..."

" ... That there's something inside her."

"Yes. But, she's never said anything about how she thinks of it, what she thinks it is."

"No, that's not true. She told you from the outset about her mother, how these things get passed on and how people like her shouldn't drink. She thinks she's crazy."

"That was then. I have a funny feeling that since our other mother started hitting the bottle, she's been getting a stronger sense of herself. Like Marie has over the years, but not so much."

"Yeah, it was the bottle that caused... this. It's been growing stronger inside her all these years since that Olivia person did whatever she did to help her and waiting for a chance to take a stronger hand. Gotta get her off that as soon as possible, but... I'm afraid it might be too late."

" ... God, I hope not. We can't let her turn into Marie. We just can't. I'm so fuckin' scared, how do we deal with this?"

"We'll find a way. She said we could."

"What she said then was based on what she knew at the time. She may have been wrong and that's the part that scares the shit outta me. Dammit, now I'm not even sure I'm really myself when I'm with her and, by the fuckin' way, I'm not supposed to be talking to you! Who are you!? Where do you come from!?"

"Valid questions under the circumstances and ones I can no more answer than she could. (sigh) But, as much as I hate to tell you this, you are alone and without me, you'll never have a hope in hell of ever sorting this mess out. You need me because this is something you can't talk to her about, at least not until it's time to act. For God's sake, we've been running around behind her back... lying..."

"Don't even remind me. I've never lied to her, never. Not until all this shit started and now all of a sudden I'm rooting around in her purse and lying..."

"(sigh) ... Our motivations are pure."

"Yeah, I'm sure it looks that way when I'm blowing a load in her face and lovin' it. I get horny just thinking about that... watching her guzzle it all down her throat the way she does."

"Okay, we're getting hard, stop thinking about it, stop... thinking about it."

"Right. So... What's our next move?"

"Fucked if I know. The Library?"

" ... I guess, yeah. The Library. And I think we should talk to her again if a good opportunity comes up. I don't wanna steer the conversation if I don't have to, she's way too sharp for that and it feels like I've been pushing it."

"Right. ... And..."

"Oh, no."

"We have to."

"No, no, no, no, no!"

"We have to. Now that we've had our little shock, we have to know what she knows. We have to ask questions based on the Jedi Theory. We have to go back."

"I can't fuckin' do this!"

"We need definite answers to definite questions. I'm calling after work."

"She's fuckin' batty and she freaks the shit outta me!"

"I don't like it either, but we have to do it while we can."

"You don't even know if she'll tell the truth!"

"We'll think of a way to trick her, maybe. And remember, she's not exactly crazy, she's... whatever."

"A Sith Lord! Just fuckin' super! You remember what Yoda said about those who study evil being in turn studied by evil? Remember what Audrey mentioned about that? And remember that god damned dream while you're at it."

" ... Well, that's just the thing, isn't it? Is it evil? As far as we know, demon possession isn't like what we've been watching in Mum, and I don't know about you, but I don't feel particularly possessed. Plus, Marie told us it grows. Evil spirits don't grow and they don't pass on children through their host's children. And they do way freakier things."

"As far as we know," I reminded myself. "And what we know comes largely from a few movies that claim to be based on true stories."

" ... Library."

"Library," I agreed with a nod, bringing conversation with myself to a close.

Bruce had to go home for the rest of the day shortly after lunch because he wasn't feeling well, so I volunteered for his bucket brigade duty and got it. Of course, I was thoroughly soaked by the time I got back to digging and I laughed with the others when I fell again, some of the black mood lifted by my conversation and a next move in mind.

Though it had stopped raining, it was still foggy and damp by the time we knocked off at five. I was paid for my eight hours and then I started home, feeling a chill settling in after having stopped moving like I'd been all day, the aches and pains all over not helping this, but my mood hadn't fallen any further by the time I stopped at the phone booth.

"Shoreline residential."

" ... Audrey?"

"Yes, who's calling please?"

"Umm... this is Steven Burchell. I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I-I didn't mean to... you know."

"Yes," she replied, her already stressed tone becoming tighter.

"(sigh) ... Audrey, I... I heard the things you said in the kitchen after I left. I was outside the window trying to chill out and... well, I just overheard."

There was silence on the other end from the woman I didn't expect to still be working there.

"I know you have to be careful of what you say," I commiserated, "but... Well, I understand."

" ... I don't think you do."

"No, I... Audrey, I'm her grandson."

There was a long pause before she asked, "Why did you call?"

"Like I said, I wanted to apologize. I figured I'd get Maureen, though."

"She's running late, I'll pass on your apologies," she toned.

"Uhh... yeah, well-"

"Was there anything else?"

"Kind of. Did Marie, uhh, say anything about it after she calmed down?"

" ... Yes."

"What?"

Another long pause from the other end made it necessary to prod, "Audrey, I really have to know. Please."

" ... It sai- ... She said she wants to see you again. She said that if you came back, you were to be brought to her room immediately and..."

"And what?"

" ... And not let out."

A chill travelled up my spine at that and a small tremor began in my bones, working easily with the cold already there as it was my turn to take a long pause.

"An-anything else?" I finally asked.

"Just one thing."

"What?"

" ... She said... She said that she wants you. That you belong to her by default and that she wants you."

" ... Ah."

"Steven... Don't come back here. Please don't come back here, if not for your own sake, then for mine and Maureen's."

She couldn't stop me, though. If she could, she wouldn't have been asking me to stay away, she'd be telling me to. The last pause between us was mutual as I stood there, re-examining my decision to return for a second visit while, I'm sure, she was praying that I wouldn't.

Some moments later, I sighed, "I guarantee you that the very last thing I ever want to do, especially after what you just told me, is see her again, but sometimes we just gotta do what we gotta do. If you didn't understand that... you obviously wouldn't be working there now. Would you?"

"Oh, god," she lamented.

"I'm sorry, but it's not just about her, or even me. Someone I love... I wouldn't even be thinking of coming back if it weren't important, believe m-"

"I think we should meet," she interrupted with a desperate, half resigned voice.

" ... I-"

"Not here, out somewhere. Tim's on Waterloo St., tonight at Seven o'clock?"

"I'm not sure... yes, I want to meet, but I probably couldn't make that. In fact, I'm not sure I'll be able to get out tonight at all."

"Do you have pen and paper? I can give you my home phone number and you can call me when you're free to meet up."

"Um, okay, go ahead," I agreed, committing the number to memory as I actually didn't have pen and paper.

"Call me any time after six thirty; I get off work at six and I live uptown here, but please, please don't come back to Shoreline, at least not until we've had a chance to talk."

"Alright, I won't."

We let each other go and I left the booth as though that was where all my troubles were, still trembling and so achingly cold all over, as much because of Marie's post visit instructions to Audrey and Maureen as the day's work. The truth was that after that little bit of information, I was glad to go meet Audrey before a second visit, if I indeed had the nads for it. The thought was bad enough before.

"He who studies evil is in turn studied by evil," I reminded myself in a whisper.

" ... Oh, shut up!" I hissed, suddenly angry as though my fear had overflowed with nowhere else to go, angry at myself for letting it have such a hold over me, controlling me the way it was. "Just shut up! A fuckin' old woman! That's what we're talking about here, a fuckin' - old -- woman! No old woman is gonna scare us, no old woman is gonna get us, and sure as hell, no old woman is gonna outsmart us! And I don't give a flying fuck what's been growing inside of her all these years! No, we meet with Audrey as soon as possible and find out what she wants to tell us, get any information we can and then go to the Library. Then we set up a little visit. A controlled visit on our terms, not hers. We'll take our time and plan things out, just like when we glued all the washroom doors shut at school. We'll show the old bitch what kinda Jedi her daughter raised! Huh!?"

" ... Yeah. ... Fuck, yeah."

Part 5

"It looks worse than it is," I told her, standing in the open doorway but not entering. "I don't wanna come in like this though, so could you just hand me a pair of jeans and the shower stuff?"

She only stared me up and down with an expression of regret on her face, but turned to get the requested items without a word. I was doing some staring of my own as I got harder and harder. She wore a white, short sleeved top with a low, widely squared neckline showing all kinds of cleavage and I could easily see the outlines and whiter areas of the white bra she wore underneath. It was tucked into a thin gray skirt that went halfway to her knees and covered the tops of the white stockings she wore. Her gray shoes had three inch heels and I loved the way she walked on them as she approached the door with our shower bag, her fantastic tits jouncing and jiggling as they could within her bra with each step.

"Oh my god, Mum. Wow, you look just incredible," I drooled.

She couldn't help but lower her head and smile at this, she loved my compliments that much, but she looked up at me from under her brows after, smile mostly gone, and spoke with a regretful tone that matched her expression.

"I can't imagine what it's like for you at that job, but my pride and gratitude are only matched by my horror that you're actually doing it. Sweetie pie, it's not much longer, I swear."

"Mum, I'm telling you it's not that bad. It's just a bit of dirt, that's all. It washes off easier than a bad dream."

I don't know why I said that, but it got a slight cock of her head and a short pause before she went on with, "You're too good for slave labour, grinding yourself down for people who'll never truly appreciate it, too smart to waste yourself like that. They should be working for you."

I smiled in turn at her compliments, but told her, "Ah, it's alright, Mum. It builds character and it's a lot more respectable than working at a fast food joint."

" ... You're quite a man for being such a good boy."

"I wish Joe the pig would stop calling me that."

"Oh, he will. You just wait and see how he stops. Every time he calls you that tonight, I want you to remember that it'll be that much worse for him before he leaves. Okay, sweetie pie?"

"Okay."

"I love you so much."

"I love you more."

"Don't start," she chuckled. "Come on, let's get to the shower before somebody else grabs it. I'll bag your dirty clothes and after your shower, you can tell me all about your day over supper. I got KFC for us."

"I definitely love you more."

"White bikini briefs?" I asked when I sat at the table in a pair of older blue jeans and a dark blue Jays T-shirt, a glass plate from the Dollar Store loaded with chicken, fries and slaw with a bottle of beer in front of me.

She grinned and looked down at her own plate as we both dug in without any preamble, saying, "They're only a little smaller than your Speedos and I can't wait to see you in them."

"But, white underwear for a guy? One who's in my current line of work at that?"

"So just wear them for me. You like my lingerie, right?"

"I love it."

"Well, women like stuff, too."

" ... Anything for you, Mum. Where'd you get them, anyway?"

"On sale," she said with a pleased smile.

"And the beer?"

"The liquor store, of course."

"Yeah," I laughed, "but why?"

"Well, I know I shouldn't, but it's Friday and it's only one. A lot of men like a nice cold beer with their meal after work, so I thought it'd be a nice treat."

I didn't like the idea of drinking, considering my possible (probable) 'other me', but she was right, it was only one and I didn't want to hurt her feelings by refusing. We enjoyed a really good meal together with the inner troubles of the day mostly banished from my mind as I knew they would be once I was with her again.