My Other Mother Ch. 10byAmeaner©
My guts grinding, the more I thought of what had happened at Tim's, the more upset I got. While cutting through King Square on my way home, I leaned against a tree and threw up, my entire body heaving and shaking, thinking of my freakish grandmother and how I would probably end up like that some day. It made our financial problems seem like so much nothing and, thinking of how much further along than me my mother must have been, I threw up again until I got the dry heaves. Finally, I staggered to a bench and dropped down on it, hanging my head low in fear and despair.
"Ohhh, you're fucked," I miserably informed myself. "Well and truly fucked."
I didn't reply, instead just sat there trying to wrap my mind around the facts, the new reality, the acceptance of the ultimate truth that I'd been avoiding in my mind as the proper detective should. The Jedi theory was no longer just a theory, but awful fact, and I had to find some way to save my mother and myself from it. It was imperative that a solution be found somehow and I knew that time was wearing thin, a clock tick-tick-ticking down to some future, personal D day that I was now grimly aware of.
I changed my mind about home, getting up and heading in the opposite direction through the Square and down King St. to eventually find myself in back of the hotel, standing on the once again darkened and deserted boardwalk to stare out at the mirror like water of the harbour, the colourful city lights reflecting from its surface.
"What am I gonna do?" I desperately plead of myself.
The merriment and frivolities of the slip around the corner reached my ears, an outdoor, live band playing It's My Life almost as well as Bon Jovi.
I wanted to cry. I felt so helpless in the face of the mysterious thing that I'd been unknowingly hosting my entire life, some parasite that had been growing inside me like a tapeworm, eating up more and more of my self as I got older, living off me and my life. If it was a physical part of me, such as an arm or a leg, I could have at least removed it, but that wasn't the case. Whatever it was, it was attached way down deep, grafted to my awareness, my very personality and no antipsychotics or amputations would help me. Or Mum.
"And that brings us to our little moment with her, doesn't it?" I asked. "What in hell was that? What in hell happened there just before she destroyed Joe?"
"I don't know, I replied back to myself. "It was like being the wind, or being borne on it as it moved... over the Earth. Just moving... looking... apart from all. And she was there. Mum was... there. A part of me."
"No words, no thoughts, just..."
"An idea. An intention."
"A single, driving, eternal motivation. ... Maybe she's just that good?"
"She's good alright, but no woman is that good. Not even her and it's not as if some cosmic experience is out of the question at this point, is it? No, something happened and, if you ask me, it's pointless to try to identify or even think about it now. We'll be discussing it with her soon enough and I have a funny feeling more information will open up once she relates her side of it."
" ... Yeah. You're right. (sigh) Moving right along..."
"Three things. One: What is this thing, where does it come from and how do we get rid of it? Two: How do we deal with Marie? Three, and most importantly: How do we make sure Mum is safe from her?"
"As for question one... Well, it may be time to come clean with Mum about our little investigation."
"No. That's not the way we operate. We have to keep her in the dark until it's time to act, time to keep our promise. Information is power and, in this situation, we'll need all the power we can get when it comes time. I don't think tipping our hand will help."
"But, she might have information we can't get anywhere else at this point. She obviously knows about the Jedi spell, she purposefully used it on Joe, even insisted he look her in the eyes... Maybe we can get it out of her without her realizing."
"I doubt there's much of anything she doesn't realize when it comes to dealing with others, and she wouldn't be too impressed if she caught us soft handling her. She'd want to know why, then we'd have to tell her because we can't lie to her. She'd know; she always has."
"You've soft handled her. And you've lied to her and gotten away with it."
"Maybe. Remember all those times she caught us lying but didn't say anything right away? Don't forget who we learned not to tip our hand from, bright-boy. Anyway, even if we did get away with it, those were white lies and so far, the things we got out of her have been pretty easy. The things we want to pick her brain for now would require some pretty skillful dancing. She'd see through us. She would and you know it."
"Yeah... but again, our upcoming conversation might just be the perfect opportunity. Except for how I raped her. Oh my god..."
" ... She seemed to take it pretty well. Besides, you've already established that sex with Mum is the least of our worries. Forget that and concentrate on the real problem, such as how much I hate being sneaky with her, how it always feels like betrayal. Now that we love her like we do, it's even worse and I don't like that kind of guilt. Neither do you."
"In case you haven't noticed, we've been doing a lot of things we don't like out of necessity. Remember that it's for her ultimate good. It's because we do love her that we're doing these things."
"And that brings us to Audrey."
" ... Fuck."
"You said it."
"Let's not get into that. I still don't like the idea that I'm talking to you."
"You've got nobody else. Now, what about Audrey? What are we supposed to do to help her?"
"(sigh) Fuck me... What in hell are we going to do? ... If only we could tell Mum."
I should have known better. In my agitation and stress, I wasn't even talking under my breath, but in a low voice and, as I turned around to see Pastor Marx standing about fifteen feet away, my face flushed with heat. Caught again.
"They say it's not so much talking to yourself you have to watch, but answering back," she said as she approached.
She said it casually, like a joke, but I could see the underlying, unsure curiosity in her face as she did.
"Uhh... heh, yeah, I've heard that," I nervously replied, once again wondering how much she'd heard and cursing myself for being so wrapped up in my problems that I'd totally forget the rest of the world and all the people in it. "It's uhh... just this little thing I've always done when I needed to work stuff out. It helps."
"Ah," she replied, coming to stand next to me and looking at me closely, her curiosity diminishing somewhat. "Well... I didn't hear anything that you said. I didn't mean to eavesdrop or invade your privacy."
"Okay," I answered, believing her and feeling a bit better, but also turning my face to the harbour. The last thing I wanted was for her to fall under the Jedi spell.
" ... Everything okay? Anything you'd like to talk to someone else about?"
"Uhh... well it's pretty messed up, Pastor. I'd really rather not."
" ... Call me Marci. I know, Marci Marx, 'ha, ha'. I swear, my parents must have been on drugs when they named me."
"I like it," I commented with a careful smile.
"Thanks. You know, Steven, I knew from the first time I saw you that there was something... That something's bothering you. Something big and you don't know where to turn for help. I'm a good listener, you know."
"I know. It's just that... I'm sorry, I don't mean to put you down or anything, but you just wouldn't understand. You probably wouldn't even believe me. I'm having a hard time believing it. I don't even want to."
"I'll try," she offered. "I'd really like to help if I can."
" ... Well... You believe in evil, right? I mean you believe it exists?"
"Here on Earth?"
"Yes. Satan tempts us every day to do his work. He makes it so appealing and the next thing we know..."
"Okay, but... what about people? Do you think there are evil people?"
" ... No. Not really. I mean, it's just my opinion, but I don't believe anybody is any better or any worse than anyone else in that respect."
"What about people like Hitler?"
"Hitler was crazy. It's possible Satan capitalized on that, making him, or encouraging... pushing him that extra foot to do evil things, but no, I don't believe anyone is evil. Salvation is offered to all, it says so right in here," she said, raising her bible for a moment, "but it's not offered to Satan or his minions so, as far as I see it, that separates us from him and what's thought of as 'evil'."
"What about Satan worshipers?"
"Poor, short sighted fools. People who feel insignificant, inferior and will do anything to feel strong and powerful. They aren't evil, just pathetic."
"What about... stuff like possession?"
I nodded, still not looking her in the eye.
" ... It's like an affliction. The affliction itself is evil, but not the poor individual it attaches itself to."
"Like a parasite?"
"Ummm... Not exactly. A demonic possession, the purpose of the demon itself, is to sew fear and revulsion, to destroy hope and pervert the beauty of God's creation in our eyes. It doesn't need the afflicted person for its own survival, whereas a parasite lives and thrives off its host and does depend on the host for its survival, even if it's slowly killing its host."
"Would you know evil if you saw it?"
" ... I'm not sure. Evil often hides behind a cloak of good and beauty. I'd like to think I could, but I really can't say."
"So, you've never seen a victim of demonic possession," I assumed.
"Not that I'm aware, no. But, like I say, I might not necessarily recognize it as such if I did, unless the person was doing a Linda Blair with head spinning around while crawling on the ceiling and hoarking up green goo in my face," she said with a smile.
I couldn't help but smile in return at her levity.
"Oh, that's nice."
I allowed it to remain while I looked out over the water, actually feeling a little better for some unknown reason.
After a pause, she said, "I think about you off and on."
I looked at her, a bit surprised at this and asked, "Really? Why?"
"I'm not sure. You're like... different. Special. Like you could really be something."
"Well, Pas- Marci... I'll be happy to just reach retirement age with all my marbles."
"Retirement isn't something an eighteen year old should be thinking about."
I smiled ruefully while thinking of my grandmother and vaguely wondering how the parasite could have come along so suddenly within me. Was it the booze Mum gave me?
" ... Steven... What's wrong?"
I wanted to tell her. Maybe not the whole story, at least not the part about how I'd been completely and hopelessly seduced by my own mother, but enough that she'd understand and possibly even be able to help in some way. But how could I do this without having her think I was crazy? She'd never believe it and, if she did, she'd probably turn and run. There was also the fact that I wasn't supposed to have any friends, by order of Mum, and telling Marci about this problem would only serve to further defy that order. But then, I had to help Mum somehow, didn't I? Didn't Mum's and my ultimate wellbeing trump even her very clear instructions? Maybe she could help.
I looked at the Pastor in black carefully, still not in her eyes, and said, "If you'd really like to help... There's someone I'd like you to meet."
I'd gotten back in plenty of time do get a decent amount of sleep and was even up, fed, showered, dressed and ready when Mum showed up at Noon, explaining that she'd slept with Roxanne when she'd returned the night before.
She was wearing a thin, white T-shirt, one I'd never seen before and assumed belonged to her new girlfriend downstairs by the way it stretched over her chest. The only thing that ruined it was the bra underneath. She was also wearing a pair of faded, blue denim shorts that let just the very bottom of her ass hang out, their tight fit advertising her pleasing curves very well.
"You like my outfit?"
I was feeling a little better after the events of the night before, not to mention the fact that I got to be around her again, and I couldn't help but show a wide grin.
"You're so hot. You'd make anything look great."
" ... I love how you make me feel so good about myself, so confident. Like a woman should be made to feel. I love watching you get hard, knowing it's because of me."
" ... Uh, Mum..."
"Well, about what happened... last night..."
"What happened last night?"
" ... I... Well, I..."
"Hmm...?" she encouraged with a smile.
"I made you... I..."
"Just say it. Tell me exactly what you did."
Incredibly, my cock was getting hard as I hesitantly answered while avoiding those eyes.
"I went against your wishes and... I fucked you."
"You raped me. You tore my clothes off whether I liked it or not and fucked me senseless like I was a whore. Mummy loved it."
" ... But you said-"
"I know what I said, hon, I know. It's just that... Look, we can talk about this a bit later, let's get going now.
"Back out to the beach. I've got Jamie's van for the day, a nice little plastic pail to collect periwinkles in and I've already got a supper date set up with Pitbull."
"I saw him last night and he didn't say anything about it."
"I asked him not to. I wanted it to be a surprise for you this morning, so get into your Daniel Craig trunks and let's go. We're gonna have a great day!" she enthused.
About an hour later, we were back at the Burchell family retreat, near the low rocks of Mispec beach again while we crouched and picked up the small, shelled creatures, dropping them in the yellow plastic pail as we spoke.
"I wanted for us to go to the movies tonight," she said apologetically, "but I just don't think I'm going to be able to. I'm Sorry, hon."
"It's okay. I'm having a really good time now. Hey, how'd things go this morning on your shopping trip with Roxy?"
"Very good. Joe had almost four thousand Dollars in the bank, so I was able to get a few things taken care of. Roxy's taking care of something now, but I'll join her again later on, after we get back from Pitbull's place."
"Are you meeting her at her room?"
"Can you bring her up for a few minutes before you two leave?"
She looked up at my grin which was focused on the dark, wet sand and the periwinkles that made their way across it and asked, "A surprise for Mummy and her girlfriend?"
"Yup, but you know you're the one I really think of."
"Aw, you're so sweet. We'll be there and I can't wait to see what your surprise is. By the way, she told me about how you were showing her off. She really loved that."
"Yeah," I chuckled. "Roxy's great."
"So are you."
"Would you still say that if I showed you off?" I challenged.
"You wouldn't do that to me, would you?" she teased with a smile.
"Can never tell..."
" ... So brazen."
"You love it, Mum."
"You're flippin' right I do."
"... But, I still can't believe I did... that. I mean, Joe even told me to and-"
"After you tore my bra off and forced me down, my top all pulled down while we struggled. Oh my god, the... I mean, I couldn't get over the fact that you were going to do it, I couldn't believe you wouldn't back out and I kept waiting for you to. But you didn't and... Oh my god, I've just never had a buildup like that before. You can't imagine how that satisfied me."
" ... Okay..."
"Honey... I want us to fuck. I know what I said before, but I want that for us so we can be complete for each other. I'll... get myself fixed as soon as possible."
" ... I loved it too. It was so much better than with Staci and I can't wait to fuck you again, Mum."
She smiled at me before going back to the periwinkles, the matter settled. We silently collected our evening's treat, moving along to a different area once we'd picked one clean, side by side with the bucket between us. I kept checking out her chest, her erect nipples distinguishable even behind her bra, teasing, tantalizing my body chemistry and keeping me rock hard the whole time. She in turn would often check me out, glancing between my legs, then up at my face with a knowing smile, her mysterious eyes actually sparkling now with intense happiness and expectation.
"I can't say it enough, can't describe how much I loved our first time," she said.
"Me too. I loved ripping your shirt off. But I want it different next time," I imparted.
"Just the two of us?"
"Me too. ... Umm... I wonder if we'll have another... occurrence."
" ... Maybe."
" ... Have you been thinking about that too?"
"Oh, yeah," I assured her.
"What... What was that? What happened?"
"I don't know. I know it scared the life out of me at first. I thought you gave me a stroke or something."
She smiled at this, taking it as the compliment I'd intended it to be, dropped a few periwinkles into the pail and asked, "What was it like for you? I mean, what did you experience?"
Well, after the initial... rush, for want of a better word, it was uh... very nice, actually. Liberating in a way. You were there with me. No, you were a part of me but identifiable as a part of me if that makes any sense."
"Yes," she nodded, "it was that way for me, too. We were on the wind and we just... were."
"Yeah, that's it. And I even remember us going through this grove of trees."
"In a field," she clarified.
" ... The way the leaves felt."
" ... Yes... Geez, I forgot about that, but you're right, I remember... the leaves."
"It's funny," she observed, "but I was a little freaked out by the whole thing until we started talking just now. Now it seems more... beautiful. Do you find?"
"Kind of. I do know what you mean, but... well, as an incident, it's... pretty unusual," I laughed nervously. "It actually worries me because we have no idea what happened. The only rational explanation is that we shared a common hallucination."
"I've never considered the concept of mass, or shared hallucination to be especially rational, sweetie pie."
"No? Well, after what happened last night, you might think of re-examining that consideration."
She looked sharply up at me and I realized that my comment came out on a disrespectfully sarcastic tone.
"Uhh... sorry, Mum, I didn't mean it like that," I humbly told the affronted irritation in the darkness of her eyes. "It's just... Well, I usually don't... I would normally be discussing this kind of thing with myself and I have a certain attitude when I do and I forgot... Sorry."
" ... You talk to yourself?"
" ... Yes. It's not... I mean, I'm not-"
"Mum used to talk to herself. She'd sit at the kitchen table and watch us while we sat in the living room watching TV, whispering with herself."
I returned a blank stare of incomprehension as she focused entirely on me with a stony expression. I didn't dare look to her eyes to read them at that point, not after what I'd seen her do to Joe the pig.
"How often do you talk to yourself?" she asked, a slight amount of aggression having crept into her voice.
"Well, not all the time," I defended, more nervous now. "I- only when I'm thinking about stuff, trying to work stuff out-"
"How -- often?"
" ... Uhh, maybe once a day, once every two days..."
She simply stared then until I had to add, "I don't have to, it's just this thing, like people who write their problems down. It helps to... make me see things clearer."