So I Wouldn't Tell

My mother and father were having another one of their knock-down, drag-out battles. The screaming and the sound of slamming furniture coming from their bedroom across the hall from mine was deafening. But not deafening enough. I had to put my hands over my ears to block it out. I was a freshman at the local college and was trying to study for a Chemistry 101 exam tomorrow, but with all this disturbance CO2 and NaCl were not penetrating into my brain. Did they want me to fail Chemistry?

They were always fighting. I never really knew about what, but I think that maybe my father thought that my mother fooled around with other men, and my mother thought-I don't know what. I kept hearing her say 'college boys' in an accusing tone all the time. What did that mean?

I really don't like to think of my mom and dad having extra-curricular sex. I mean what kid does? You always think your parents should be this perfect loving couple. But maybe there was a different reality in this house. My parents really were different from all the other parents in town.

All the other moms were kind of middle-aged and matronly and dumpy. My mom was still a beauty. I mean she was seductive. I mean if she weren't my mother, I would probably have the hots for her. Like if she were my teacher or something, I could really get something going. Her tits were pretty large and still firm. Well, she wasn't that old. She had married at a very young age, and I was born only three days after the wedding. So I guess my parents are really very passionate people, which is okay, because I think I am passionate also, even though I haven't had the opportunity to do anything about it yet, and I don't even have a girl friend. Maybe it's because the girls my age don't do so much for me. I really get turned on by more mature, sophisticated women, kind of like my mother.

I go to the gym a lot and lift weights, because I am a little on the thin side, and would like to build myself up. I would like to look exactly like my father, who is still a very young guy, and really handsome, with a great athletic build, and who has won many third-prize bronze medals in long distance bicycle races.

They were both so unbelievably sexually attractive that they should have been perfect together. Why were they always fighting? My father would never find a hotter looking woman than my mother, and my mother - well, I had to admit that my father was a prize stud. She was lucky to have him, and she didn't appreciate that fact.

Then I heard their bedroom door slam, and I heard my father stomp down the stairs, and I heard the front door slam, and then I heard the engine of his car rev up and then I heard the car pull away. My Chemistry cramming was now down the drain. I went to my bedroom door and opened it. Their bedroom door was open, and my mother was sitting on the bed, with her head buried in her hands, sobbing.

"Mom. What is it? What happened?"

"We had a terrible argument. He's leaving me. We're getting a divorce."

"Oh god! No!" This was the worst.

"Yes. Well screw him. Just screw him. I can get any man I want."

"Mom, please. Calm down."

But she just started to sob again. I stood there and watched helplessly, but finally I went back to my bedroom and closed the door. I tried to open my Chemistry textbook, but my mind wasn't focusing, so I just got undressed and climbed into my bed, and turned off the lamp, and tried to fall asleep. This was so upsetting. I loved my mom and I loved my dad. I didn't want them to split up. This was so upsetting.

There were some phone calls, and my mother sounded very spiteful and nasty on the phone, so I knew she was talking to my father. And then she would slam down the phone. Then she would go to the refrigerator and open the door, just to be able to slam it shut really hard. Yes. She had just been on the phone with my father. This was so upsetting. How could I concentrate on my studies? I would fail all my courses and drop out of college and end up in a low-paying civil service job, which I guess was okay, because the benefits were good. Healthcare. Pension. So maybe that wasn't such a terrible fate. But I really had wanted to be a Research Scientist. Oh, well.

A few days later I was home between classes, and I had to fix my own tuna fish salad sandwich on whole wheat toast, because my mother had gone into town to the beauty parlor. She needed to get her hair done. I think she may have been dying it blonde, but I wasn't sure. It did look a little blonder now than it had several years ago. That's why when the phone rang this time, I was the one who answered it.

"Hello," I said.

"Martin."

"Hi dad. How are you?"

"Fine, Martin. Is your mother there?"

"She's at the beauty parlor," I told him. "I wish you'd come home, dad. I really miss you."

"And I miss you son. You're the one that I miss in that house."

"I love you, dad."

"And I love you, Martin. Say. How about we get together and spend a day? How about on Saturday, I'll rent us a couple of bikes and we'll ride all around the city, and then I'll take you out for a nice seafood dinner by the lakefront. We'll have a great old time. Just us guys. Would you like that?"

"Yes dad. That really sounds great." This was terrific. I had always wanted to go bike riding with my father. He just had never asked me before.

I agreed to meet him at his hotel room at the Stratford Palace on Elm Street downtown. Room 422. I was to be there around 2 p.m. I was really looking forward to it. When my mother got home, I told her about my plans for Saturday, and her eyes got really narrow, but she didn't say anything. Was she pissed that I was going to be spending the day with my own father?

Well, I can only tell you that dad and I had the most fantastic day. We rode our bikes out into the countryside for miles and miles, and then we went back to the lakefront and my dad bought me the most fantastic Lobster Thermador at the Lobster Shack facing pier 22. And then I had strawberry shortcake for desert. It was the greatest dinner I have ever had. My mother is not a four-star chef. I get a lot of frozen dinners at home.

"It's so great to spend the day with you, Martin. We should do this more often," my dad said to me.

"Yes, we should," I agreed. I would really like a lot more days like this. I loved being with my dad. He had never paid that much attention to me when I was younger. It just seemed like I didn't interest him at all. But lately, since I graduated from high school and started going to college, he seems to take more notice of me. I sometimes catch him kind of staring at me. But I'm not complaining. I'm glad to finally be getting some attention from my dad after all these years. I guess he just likes me better now that I'm more mature. Well, he was a man's man, and I guess he didn't have that much in common with a young boy, but now that I was almost a man. Well...

"How was your day with your father?" My mother asked me, when I got home.

"It was fantastic," I told her. And then I described all the things dad and I had done together, and I told her about my delicious dinner at the Lobster Shack. She didn't seem thrilled to hear all this.

"Let me ask you a question," she said. "If your father and I were to get a divorce, who would you go with?"

Wow. What a heavy question. How could I make a decision like that? It was like ripping myself in half. "I don't know," I told her honestly. She didn't say anything. She just went into her room and closed the door. I went into my room and tried to study my Chemistry.

The next day my mother comes out all bright and sunny and cheery. "Honey. You know what? Today is Sunday and there's a touring Broadway Musical in town. I'm gonna take you to see it. Would you like that?"

"Yes," I told her. I loved Broadway Musicals. I had only seen a couple of touring companies, it's true, but I had dozens and dozens of original cast albums reissued on CD's. All the great classics. Oklahoma. My Fair Lady. All the great ones. I wish I had been alive and in New York when they had first opened.

My mother went into her room to dress, and I put on my blue suit to go to the theatre. When my mother came out of her room, I almost fell over. She was so damn gorgeous. Her hair was so perfect. And her lips were so red and pouty. And she was wearing this short green skirt, with a form fitting green top that only came up to the top of her tits, which were spilling over. I was looking at my own mother and getting a hard-on. This was not good.

"Let's go," she said. So we got into her car and drove downtown. The show was incredibly wonderful. I loved it. I would have to buy the CD as soon as possible. My mother suggested we go to dinner at the local French restaurant, Chez Antoine. I had onion soup, and frog's legs, which I had never had before, but they were delicious. They were in this garlic tomato sauce which was so tasty. But at the next table, which was only 6 inches along the wall from our table, there was this guy. He was kind of burly and rough looking, but really good looking too. He was on the bench along the wall to my right, while my mother was in the chair across the table from me. This guy just kept looking at my mother's tits, and looking, and looking.

"How ya doin?" He asked my mother. He didn't even speak good English.