Update 02
Discovering Mum Ch. 02
By pure chance, I was there when she received the call, and it was like she had been sucker punched in the solar plexus. It literally knocked the air out of her body. She doubled over, and it looked like she was going to pass out for a few moments. Her mother, the person who was staring down the barrel of a death sentence, who was terminally ill, was the one doing all the comforting, and that seemed slightly absurd to me. I tried to help her, but I felt like I was in the way at the same time. Ultimately, all I could do was stand there with my arm around her, supporting her physically while she absorbed this next blow.
I was really concerned about Mum's mental health, and I was genuinely afraid she wouldn't be able to take this latest assault, but bizarrely, it seemed to help her. I think she felt that this was something she could focus on and help with, so she could turn away from all the hurt at home. It gave her something to focus on other than her own pain for the time being.
She launched herself into action with a fierce determination and immediately organised some time off from work. She had worked in the same business for as long as I could remember, and she rarely took any time off except for when we went away on holidays, which hadn't happened much in the last few years. She had used some of her leave during the court case, but even then, she used it very sparingly. She would often go straight back to work after court, as much for the support of her work friends as to focus on something else. As a result, she had lots of holiday time and long service leave built up.
I assumed that she had told Dad her plans when she told me that she would be leaving so that she could be with her mother, and she would be going alone. The thought of saying goodbye to her as well as Peter in the same week made me feel ill. Seeing as the Easter break was coming up from school, I made the decision to take the last week of the term off and accompany her to my grandmother's.
When I told her what I was going to do, I got the sense that she was relieved and quietly grateful for what I was doing, but I knew she would never have asked me to. She asked me if I had exams, and I told her that the only exams I had left to do for school now would be at the end of the year.
I won't pretend that this was an entirely noble deed, either. I really didn't want to be left at home alone with Dad for however long she was going to be at her mother's house. As horrible as the situation was, I needed to get out of this house, and I was also looking forward to some time alone with her. Dad had become even more distant with both of us, and I felt that Mum needed the support more than ever now. I also hoped she would feel safe enough to open up without Dad there. I needed this time with her as much as she needed the support.
It had become so important for me to get out of the house for a while and see something different. Home was feeling very claustrophobic at the moment, and any change of scenery would make for a nice break.
My grandmother lived a full day's drive from home, just shy of a thousand kilometres, so Mum and I decided we would take it in turns to drive. She would drive for two hours, we would stop for a break, swap drivers, then I would drive for the next two hours, and so on until we got there.
The day of the trip started off uncomfortably because Dad had made a bit of a scene about us leaving and was angry that Mum hadn't asked him to go as well. It didn't help when her response was an unexpected laugh that was anything but happy and very mocking. Laughter was such an alien sound in our home lately that it was actually quite a shocking sound, and I was worried that it was all going to turn into a nasty fight. The look on his face at her derision was murderous. He had never been one to take being mocked very well.
"Are you serious, Darren? You haven't wanted to be in the same room or even the same house as me since Peter went to prison. You have never liked my Mum, and you think I would ask you to come? What the hell for? So, you could make everyone feel uncomfortable?"
She had hit a nerve with him, and his face went very red. Whether it was blushing from embarrassment or rage, I wasn't entirely sure.
"Well, if you're going to be a bitch about it and act like I don't care, then I don't want to go."
"Darren, don't pretend that you wanted to go; it's completely unconvincing. You're doing this just to try and make me feel like shit. You don't want to be there, and I don't want you there, and neither does Mum. You might as well enjoy the time to yourself. It's all you seem to want these days, to be left alone to wallow."
She turned and walked out the door, and that's when he noticed me standing there with my bag in my hand.
"Oh, of course you're going to run off with her. Chosen your side, I see."
It pissed me off, and I felt myself going red in the face.
"It's not about sides, Dad. It never has been. Mum just needs someone there with her."
"Oh, so you think you're the man of the house now?"
I wanted to tell him that somebody needed to step up and do it, but that was never going to end well, so I just shook my head and didn't respond. There was nothing I could say that would have made any difference anyway. The anger and hurt inside of me made me want to say a lot, but it certainly wouldn't have made the situation any better. I just stayed silent and followed Mum out the door. In my heart, I knew that he was just lashing out because he was hurting, but something changed in me that day, and he and I would never again have the relationship we once had.
There was a part of me that knew that I had somehow failed to live up to his expectations. The fact that Peter, up until recently, had found life very easy to navigate and success just came naturally to him, while I had to work hard just to achieve mediocrity, was proof enough of that, and it was a never-ending source of irritation for him. It's not that we never had a loving relationship, but I always knew I was second best.
Peter never would have seen it that way. We got along really well, and he was just such a caring person that he would never have seen it that way. I doubt he was capable of it, despite the things he had done under the influence. In Dad's eye, Peter was the number one son in all ways possible, and I don't think he could, or ever would, forgive me for not being the one who fucked up.
For the first two hours, Mum and I sat in relative silence, each lost in our own thoughts as the road rolled by beneath us. I wanted to talk to her about what was happening between her and Dad, but I could see how hurt she was, and I just didn't want to add to that. Every time I went to say something, the words just dried up in my mouth, and I couldn't get anything out.
We pulled into the service station car park and stepped out of the car. We both stretched and began walking around, trying to get some blood flow back into our knees and backs. Mum's car was nice enough, but it was small and built more for driving around town, not so much for tall people on long road trips. I half groaned and half laughed while rubbing my ass, while Mum giggled, looking over at me.
"Are you right there?"
"I can't believe I've got pins and needles in my ass. It feels so weird."
It was the first time in a long time that I heard Mum genuinely laugh. It was a beautiful sound, and I didn't care in the slightest that it was at my expense. I walked around the car rather awkwardly, looking like one of the Thunderbirds puppets, as I tried to convince my legs to function properly. Mum was smiling at my silly walking and seemed for a moment to be genuinely happy when I put my arm around her shoulder.
"Let's go get caffeinated, Mum. I'm desperate for some decent coffee."
"Oh, I'm hearing you, although I'm not sure just how decent service station coffee is going to be."
"So long as it's hot and wet, I'll be happy."
"That's what she said."
I looked at her in mildly shocked awe, and we both burst out laughing. We walked into the cafe section, and thankfully, my legs had begun functioning normally now. We placed our order, and while we waited, Mum went to the bathroom. I collected our drinks and wandered back out to the car. I put her coffee on the roof of the car above the passenger door and proceeded to drink mine while I walked laps around the car. Knowing I'd be sitting again for the next two hours, I wanted to stay out of the seat for as long as I could before we left.
When she came back, she threw me the keys and gave me a line that she always used to say when we were on a road trip somewhere. It reminded me that we hadn't really done much of this sort of thing in years, and I wondered why that was.
"Let's hit the frog and toad, kiddo."
It always used to make me laugh as a little kid. Now it swept over me as a wave of nostalgia.
We both got in and buckled up, and then we were on the road again. Something had changed, though. It felt somehow lighter, as though a weight had been lifted off us and the air had cleared. Seemingly in response to the mood in the car, the weather changed to suit. It had been a dull grey morning with a bit of drizzle when we started out, but now the clouds were splitting up, and there was a bright blue sky between them and shafts of warm sunlight coming through. The further we got from home, the nicer it became.
"How are you doing, Kiddo?"
My name is Jeffrey, but almost everyone calls me Jeff, except for Mum. Mum had always called me Kiddo. I guess it's because I am the youngest in the family. At eighteen years old, I am legally an adult now, but I suspect I will always be Kiddo to Mum.
"I'm okay, I guess. This all feels a bit weird, but I'm okay. How are you doing?"
There was a very long pause. So long, in fact, that I wasn't sure she was going to respond at all until she let out a long, sad sigh.
"Well, I've been better. It's been a rough year, to be honest."
I wanted to say so much, but I had no idea where to begin. All I could really do was agree.
"Yeah."
She looked at me quite seriously for a moment.
"I want to say I am sorry."
I was genuinely confused. What on earth did she have to apologise for? I didn't say anything at first, but the look on my face must have told her what she needed to know.
"I'm sorry because everything I have been going through, you have too. I haven't really been as aware of that as I should have been, and neither your dad nor I have really been there for you. I should have made more time to talk to you and see how you are doing. I don't even know how you are doing at school. I haven't been doing a very good job of being a parent lately."
I reached across and put my hand on her knee as a gesture of comfort. It was meant innocently and was a heartfelt gesture, but at the same time it felt like a strangely intimate thing to do, and I wondered if I was overstepping the mark. It was a strange moment where I felt like an adult comforting a child instead of a son and mother.
I thought about removing my hand, but before I could, she had placed her hand on mine and gave it a gentle squeeze, holding it to her leg. I glanced across at her, and I could see she too was feeling slightly awkward, but I continued to hold my hand there. I relaxed, and she must have felt it as she did too, although she kept her hand on mine, and she quietly spoke.
"Thank you, Jeffery."
The fact that she called me Jeffery was as sure a sign as any that this was a very serious conversation for her.
"Mum, I know that everything that happened with Peter has put a lot of pressure on you and Dad, but... I don't know."
I was torn because I wanted to ask her what was really going on, but I also felt that was being too personal. She looked at me for a few loaded seconds, then a small, sad smile crossed her face.
"Feel free to ask me what you want to ask, Kiddo. We aren't going to be interrupted here, and the reality is, I need to talk this out."
I sighed, partly in relief and partly in a "Here we go" kind of way.
"Is there something else going on between you and Dad? I mean, apart from Peter."
Again, she paused for a long time before answering. She seemed to be deciding how much to tell me, or perhaps she was trying to work it out herself and didn't really know how to answer. Eventually, she took a deep breath and gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
"I don't think things have been good between your dad and me for quite some time now. We spent so much time focusing on work and raising a family that we forgot to be a couple as well. We didn't work on our relationship then, and when this situation came along and we needed to really support each other, we had forgotten how."
There was a long pause in which I didn't know what to say, but she wasn't finished yet.
"It's funny how two people can share a home and even a bed and lose sight of each other. Forget to be there for each other. I think your dad resents me for that, but the truth is, we both failed at this. It's no more his fault than mine; we are just handling it differently."
I couldn't help but sigh as I thought about just how differently they were handling it. Sure, they were both distant, but Dad was lashing out at everyone and throwing tantrums. Mum was distant because she was hiding away, licking her wounds. On some level, I knew it wasn't my responsibility to resolve this situation, but I wanted to help all the same. The problem was that when I tried to talk to Dad, all he could do was be sarcastic and angry, as though any of this was my fault. When I tried to help Mum, she was being distant in order to try and protect me. All it was doing was creating a situation where both of them were pushing me away, and it was isolating me to the point where I didn't want to be there anymore. I decided that now was the time to tell Mum about this.
"The problem is, Mum, you are both isolating yourselves, and that's just making things worse. To be honest, you're both shutting me out too. I miss Peter as well, and I'm worried about him too."
Mum nodded but didn't say anything. I could see the tears begin to run down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with her free hand. I could feel through the hand that was on mine that she was shaking. I felt miserable, as though I was just making things worse, but that didn't alter the fact that it needed to be said.
"I'm so sorry."
"Oh, Mum. I'm not saying any of this to make you feel bad. That's the last thing I want to do. I just know that sometimes, when you are deep in it, you can't see out of the situation. I just want to help. I want you and Dad to talk and listen to each other."
She half turned in her seat to face me more. In the process, my hand slid around towards the inside of her thigh. I could feel the smooth skin sliding just below the light cotton of the dress she was wearing, and the heat of her body seemed stronger there. I went to move my hand, but she held it in place. I was surprised by her insistence at keeping my hand so intimately close to her and I was embarrassed by the response of my body. I wouldn't call myself overly experienced with women, and this was far closer to touching a woman with intimate intent than a comforting gesture from a son. My body reacted the only way a hormone flooded young man would, and in an instant, I was hard.
My cock was straining against the material of my jeans and was rapidly becoming uncomfortable. I really would have liked to adjust it, but with her sitting facing me like this, she would definitely know what I was doing. It would also require me to move one of my hands. One was holding the steering wheel, and the other, no matter how wrong it was, I wasn't moving unless she asked me to.
"I don't think Dad is going to be listening to me for a long time, Kiddo. He blames me because I called the lawyer, and he feels the lawyer didn't do a good enough job. He feels that I have done something wrong to create a situation where Peter could do something like this. The last thing he wants to do right now is face the fact that it is as much his fault as mine, and he simply won't accept that sometimes smart people do dumb things. Unfortunately, Peter made a dumb choice, and it has backfired far worse than any of us could have thought. Peter doesn't blame us, but I think Dad always will. I don't know if he will ever recover from this. I seriously doubt our marriage will recover from this. I have been lonely for a long time, and this has just made it worse. I'm not even sure I want the marriage to survive at this point."
I was glad Mum was being so open with me, but it was shocking to hear that she perhaps wanted their marriage to be over. For a brief moment, the child in me was devastated, but as an adult, I could understand where she was coming from. It was a strange feeling to be torn in two vastly opposing directions. I know that as a friend, I would look at the situation objectively and advise accordingly, but I was as deep in this situation as anyone else. Besides, I was her son, not her friend.
I thought about the whole situation and tried to ignore my own biases. What it came down to for me was that, ultimately, I just wanted everyone to be happy. If they were making each other miserable and couldn't figure it out, then I guess the best thing was for them to part ways.
I could feel her looking at me, and I knew she was trying to see how I felt about what she had said.
"Are you okay, Kiddo?"
I nodded and gave her leg a gentle squeeze.
"Yeah, I'm okay. I know that you are both suffering at the moment, and from my perspective, I think you both need to just sit down and talk about it without bringing emotion into it. I also know that that is going to be impossible at the moment. I might be technically an adult, but I have never had a real adult relationship so I'm just someone who knows nothing about this stuff. I mean, I haven't even had much in the way of a proper partner yet, just the one girlfriend, so what advice could I possibly give? Having said all of that, though, I just want you to be happy."
"That was actually a lot more mature than you give yourself credit for. Any girl... or guy, who ends up with you would be damned lucky to have you."
I chuckled at her attempt to be politically correct.
"Definitely girls, Mum. I mean, like anyone going through their teenage years, I have had curious questions, but I know exactly where I stand on that front. It's definitely girls for me. Not that there has been a cue around the block of ladies trying to get my attention, in case you haven't noticed. I was never one of the popular boys when it came to that sort of thing. That was more Peter than me; he has always had the gift."
It was her turn to chuckle now.
"For someone so observant about relationships, you sure do miss some pretty obvious signals."
I frowned as I tried to decipher her meaning. She looked at me and laughed.
"What? What's so funny?"
"Are you seriously telling me you didn't pick up that the cute girl serving us our coffee was hitting on you?"
"What? No way. She was just being polite. It's her job to be nice to the customers."
Again, she laughed.
"Mhmm, she was being a lot more polite to you than just about everyone else there, in between twirling her finger in her hair, biting her lip, and looking you up and down like you were the tastiest morsel she had seen all day."
This time, I was the one laughing. She was being ridiculous and clearly exaggerating what had really happened.
"Mum, that's ridiculous. You're just saying that because I'm your son."
"Oh, so you think I'm so old that I have forgotten what it's like to be young and horny and what it looks like when girls flirt with boys?"
I know she was just making a point, but the way she said that shocked me. Growing up, you don't really think of your mother as a sexual being. I certainly know you aren't supposed to think of your mother in a sexual way, but when it's thrust upon you like this, it can be mind-bending.
I was really concerned about Mum's mental health, and I was genuinely afraid she wouldn't be able to take this latest assault, but bizarrely, it seemed to help her. I think she felt that this was something she could focus on and help with, so she could turn away from all the hurt at home. It gave her something to focus on other than her own pain for the time being.
She launched herself into action with a fierce determination and immediately organised some time off from work. She had worked in the same business for as long as I could remember, and she rarely took any time off except for when we went away on holidays, which hadn't happened much in the last few years. She had used some of her leave during the court case, but even then, she used it very sparingly. She would often go straight back to work after court, as much for the support of her work friends as to focus on something else. As a result, she had lots of holiday time and long service leave built up.
I assumed that she had told Dad her plans when she told me that she would be leaving so that she could be with her mother, and she would be going alone. The thought of saying goodbye to her as well as Peter in the same week made me feel ill. Seeing as the Easter break was coming up from school, I made the decision to take the last week of the term off and accompany her to my grandmother's.
When I told her what I was going to do, I got the sense that she was relieved and quietly grateful for what I was doing, but I knew she would never have asked me to. She asked me if I had exams, and I told her that the only exams I had left to do for school now would be at the end of the year.
I won't pretend that this was an entirely noble deed, either. I really didn't want to be left at home alone with Dad for however long she was going to be at her mother's house. As horrible as the situation was, I needed to get out of this house, and I was also looking forward to some time alone with her. Dad had become even more distant with both of us, and I felt that Mum needed the support more than ever now. I also hoped she would feel safe enough to open up without Dad there. I needed this time with her as much as she needed the support.
It had become so important for me to get out of the house for a while and see something different. Home was feeling very claustrophobic at the moment, and any change of scenery would make for a nice break.
My grandmother lived a full day's drive from home, just shy of a thousand kilometres, so Mum and I decided we would take it in turns to drive. She would drive for two hours, we would stop for a break, swap drivers, then I would drive for the next two hours, and so on until we got there.
The day of the trip started off uncomfortably because Dad had made a bit of a scene about us leaving and was angry that Mum hadn't asked him to go as well. It didn't help when her response was an unexpected laugh that was anything but happy and very mocking. Laughter was such an alien sound in our home lately that it was actually quite a shocking sound, and I was worried that it was all going to turn into a nasty fight. The look on his face at her derision was murderous. He had never been one to take being mocked very well.
"Are you serious, Darren? You haven't wanted to be in the same room or even the same house as me since Peter went to prison. You have never liked my Mum, and you think I would ask you to come? What the hell for? So, you could make everyone feel uncomfortable?"
She had hit a nerve with him, and his face went very red. Whether it was blushing from embarrassment or rage, I wasn't entirely sure.
"Well, if you're going to be a bitch about it and act like I don't care, then I don't want to go."
"Darren, don't pretend that you wanted to go; it's completely unconvincing. You're doing this just to try and make me feel like shit. You don't want to be there, and I don't want you there, and neither does Mum. You might as well enjoy the time to yourself. It's all you seem to want these days, to be left alone to wallow."
She turned and walked out the door, and that's when he noticed me standing there with my bag in my hand.
"Oh, of course you're going to run off with her. Chosen your side, I see."
It pissed me off, and I felt myself going red in the face.
"It's not about sides, Dad. It never has been. Mum just needs someone there with her."
"Oh, so you think you're the man of the house now?"
I wanted to tell him that somebody needed to step up and do it, but that was never going to end well, so I just shook my head and didn't respond. There was nothing I could say that would have made any difference anyway. The anger and hurt inside of me made me want to say a lot, but it certainly wouldn't have made the situation any better. I just stayed silent and followed Mum out the door. In my heart, I knew that he was just lashing out because he was hurting, but something changed in me that day, and he and I would never again have the relationship we once had.
There was a part of me that knew that I had somehow failed to live up to his expectations. The fact that Peter, up until recently, had found life very easy to navigate and success just came naturally to him, while I had to work hard just to achieve mediocrity, was proof enough of that, and it was a never-ending source of irritation for him. It's not that we never had a loving relationship, but I always knew I was second best.
Peter never would have seen it that way. We got along really well, and he was just such a caring person that he would never have seen it that way. I doubt he was capable of it, despite the things he had done under the influence. In Dad's eye, Peter was the number one son in all ways possible, and I don't think he could, or ever would, forgive me for not being the one who fucked up.
For the first two hours, Mum and I sat in relative silence, each lost in our own thoughts as the road rolled by beneath us. I wanted to talk to her about what was happening between her and Dad, but I could see how hurt she was, and I just didn't want to add to that. Every time I went to say something, the words just dried up in my mouth, and I couldn't get anything out.
We pulled into the service station car park and stepped out of the car. We both stretched and began walking around, trying to get some blood flow back into our knees and backs. Mum's car was nice enough, but it was small and built more for driving around town, not so much for tall people on long road trips. I half groaned and half laughed while rubbing my ass, while Mum giggled, looking over at me.
"Are you right there?"
"I can't believe I've got pins and needles in my ass. It feels so weird."
It was the first time in a long time that I heard Mum genuinely laugh. It was a beautiful sound, and I didn't care in the slightest that it was at my expense. I walked around the car rather awkwardly, looking like one of the Thunderbirds puppets, as I tried to convince my legs to function properly. Mum was smiling at my silly walking and seemed for a moment to be genuinely happy when I put my arm around her shoulder.
"Let's go get caffeinated, Mum. I'm desperate for some decent coffee."
"Oh, I'm hearing you, although I'm not sure just how decent service station coffee is going to be."
"So long as it's hot and wet, I'll be happy."
"That's what she said."
I looked at her in mildly shocked awe, and we both burst out laughing. We walked into the cafe section, and thankfully, my legs had begun functioning normally now. We placed our order, and while we waited, Mum went to the bathroom. I collected our drinks and wandered back out to the car. I put her coffee on the roof of the car above the passenger door and proceeded to drink mine while I walked laps around the car. Knowing I'd be sitting again for the next two hours, I wanted to stay out of the seat for as long as I could before we left.
When she came back, she threw me the keys and gave me a line that she always used to say when we were on a road trip somewhere. It reminded me that we hadn't really done much of this sort of thing in years, and I wondered why that was.
"Let's hit the frog and toad, kiddo."
It always used to make me laugh as a little kid. Now it swept over me as a wave of nostalgia.
We both got in and buckled up, and then we were on the road again. Something had changed, though. It felt somehow lighter, as though a weight had been lifted off us and the air had cleared. Seemingly in response to the mood in the car, the weather changed to suit. It had been a dull grey morning with a bit of drizzle when we started out, but now the clouds were splitting up, and there was a bright blue sky between them and shafts of warm sunlight coming through. The further we got from home, the nicer it became.
"How are you doing, Kiddo?"
My name is Jeffrey, but almost everyone calls me Jeff, except for Mum. Mum had always called me Kiddo. I guess it's because I am the youngest in the family. At eighteen years old, I am legally an adult now, but I suspect I will always be Kiddo to Mum.
"I'm okay, I guess. This all feels a bit weird, but I'm okay. How are you doing?"
There was a very long pause. So long, in fact, that I wasn't sure she was going to respond at all until she let out a long, sad sigh.
"Well, I've been better. It's been a rough year, to be honest."
I wanted to say so much, but I had no idea where to begin. All I could really do was agree.
"Yeah."
She looked at me quite seriously for a moment.
"I want to say I am sorry."
I was genuinely confused. What on earth did she have to apologise for? I didn't say anything at first, but the look on my face must have told her what she needed to know.
"I'm sorry because everything I have been going through, you have too. I haven't really been as aware of that as I should have been, and neither your dad nor I have really been there for you. I should have made more time to talk to you and see how you are doing. I don't even know how you are doing at school. I haven't been doing a very good job of being a parent lately."
I reached across and put my hand on her knee as a gesture of comfort. It was meant innocently and was a heartfelt gesture, but at the same time it felt like a strangely intimate thing to do, and I wondered if I was overstepping the mark. It was a strange moment where I felt like an adult comforting a child instead of a son and mother.
I thought about removing my hand, but before I could, she had placed her hand on mine and gave it a gentle squeeze, holding it to her leg. I glanced across at her, and I could see she too was feeling slightly awkward, but I continued to hold my hand there. I relaxed, and she must have felt it as she did too, although she kept her hand on mine, and she quietly spoke.
"Thank you, Jeffery."
The fact that she called me Jeffery was as sure a sign as any that this was a very serious conversation for her.
"Mum, I know that everything that happened with Peter has put a lot of pressure on you and Dad, but... I don't know."
I was torn because I wanted to ask her what was really going on, but I also felt that was being too personal. She looked at me for a few loaded seconds, then a small, sad smile crossed her face.
"Feel free to ask me what you want to ask, Kiddo. We aren't going to be interrupted here, and the reality is, I need to talk this out."
I sighed, partly in relief and partly in a "Here we go" kind of way.
"Is there something else going on between you and Dad? I mean, apart from Peter."
Again, she paused for a long time before answering. She seemed to be deciding how much to tell me, or perhaps she was trying to work it out herself and didn't really know how to answer. Eventually, she took a deep breath and gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
"I don't think things have been good between your dad and me for quite some time now. We spent so much time focusing on work and raising a family that we forgot to be a couple as well. We didn't work on our relationship then, and when this situation came along and we needed to really support each other, we had forgotten how."
There was a long pause in which I didn't know what to say, but she wasn't finished yet.
"It's funny how two people can share a home and even a bed and lose sight of each other. Forget to be there for each other. I think your dad resents me for that, but the truth is, we both failed at this. It's no more his fault than mine; we are just handling it differently."
I couldn't help but sigh as I thought about just how differently they were handling it. Sure, they were both distant, but Dad was lashing out at everyone and throwing tantrums. Mum was distant because she was hiding away, licking her wounds. On some level, I knew it wasn't my responsibility to resolve this situation, but I wanted to help all the same. The problem was that when I tried to talk to Dad, all he could do was be sarcastic and angry, as though any of this was my fault. When I tried to help Mum, she was being distant in order to try and protect me. All it was doing was creating a situation where both of them were pushing me away, and it was isolating me to the point where I didn't want to be there anymore. I decided that now was the time to tell Mum about this.
"The problem is, Mum, you are both isolating yourselves, and that's just making things worse. To be honest, you're both shutting me out too. I miss Peter as well, and I'm worried about him too."
Mum nodded but didn't say anything. I could see the tears begin to run down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with her free hand. I could feel through the hand that was on mine that she was shaking. I felt miserable, as though I was just making things worse, but that didn't alter the fact that it needed to be said.
"I'm so sorry."
"Oh, Mum. I'm not saying any of this to make you feel bad. That's the last thing I want to do. I just know that sometimes, when you are deep in it, you can't see out of the situation. I just want to help. I want you and Dad to talk and listen to each other."
She half turned in her seat to face me more. In the process, my hand slid around towards the inside of her thigh. I could feel the smooth skin sliding just below the light cotton of the dress she was wearing, and the heat of her body seemed stronger there. I went to move my hand, but she held it in place. I was surprised by her insistence at keeping my hand so intimately close to her and I was embarrassed by the response of my body. I wouldn't call myself overly experienced with women, and this was far closer to touching a woman with intimate intent than a comforting gesture from a son. My body reacted the only way a hormone flooded young man would, and in an instant, I was hard.
My cock was straining against the material of my jeans and was rapidly becoming uncomfortable. I really would have liked to adjust it, but with her sitting facing me like this, she would definitely know what I was doing. It would also require me to move one of my hands. One was holding the steering wheel, and the other, no matter how wrong it was, I wasn't moving unless she asked me to.
"I don't think Dad is going to be listening to me for a long time, Kiddo. He blames me because I called the lawyer, and he feels the lawyer didn't do a good enough job. He feels that I have done something wrong to create a situation where Peter could do something like this. The last thing he wants to do right now is face the fact that it is as much his fault as mine, and he simply won't accept that sometimes smart people do dumb things. Unfortunately, Peter made a dumb choice, and it has backfired far worse than any of us could have thought. Peter doesn't blame us, but I think Dad always will. I don't know if he will ever recover from this. I seriously doubt our marriage will recover from this. I have been lonely for a long time, and this has just made it worse. I'm not even sure I want the marriage to survive at this point."
I was glad Mum was being so open with me, but it was shocking to hear that she perhaps wanted their marriage to be over. For a brief moment, the child in me was devastated, but as an adult, I could understand where she was coming from. It was a strange feeling to be torn in two vastly opposing directions. I know that as a friend, I would look at the situation objectively and advise accordingly, but I was as deep in this situation as anyone else. Besides, I was her son, not her friend.
I thought about the whole situation and tried to ignore my own biases. What it came down to for me was that, ultimately, I just wanted everyone to be happy. If they were making each other miserable and couldn't figure it out, then I guess the best thing was for them to part ways.
I could feel her looking at me, and I knew she was trying to see how I felt about what she had said.
"Are you okay, Kiddo?"
I nodded and gave her leg a gentle squeeze.
"Yeah, I'm okay. I know that you are both suffering at the moment, and from my perspective, I think you both need to just sit down and talk about it without bringing emotion into it. I also know that that is going to be impossible at the moment. I might be technically an adult, but I have never had a real adult relationship so I'm just someone who knows nothing about this stuff. I mean, I haven't even had much in the way of a proper partner yet, just the one girlfriend, so what advice could I possibly give? Having said all of that, though, I just want you to be happy."
"That was actually a lot more mature than you give yourself credit for. Any girl... or guy, who ends up with you would be damned lucky to have you."
I chuckled at her attempt to be politically correct.
"Definitely girls, Mum. I mean, like anyone going through their teenage years, I have had curious questions, but I know exactly where I stand on that front. It's definitely girls for me. Not that there has been a cue around the block of ladies trying to get my attention, in case you haven't noticed. I was never one of the popular boys when it came to that sort of thing. That was more Peter than me; he has always had the gift."
It was her turn to chuckle now.
"For someone so observant about relationships, you sure do miss some pretty obvious signals."
I frowned as I tried to decipher her meaning. She looked at me and laughed.
"What? What's so funny?"
"Are you seriously telling me you didn't pick up that the cute girl serving us our coffee was hitting on you?"
"What? No way. She was just being polite. It's her job to be nice to the customers."
Again, she laughed.
"Mhmm, she was being a lot more polite to you than just about everyone else there, in between twirling her finger in her hair, biting her lip, and looking you up and down like you were the tastiest morsel she had seen all day."
This time, I was the one laughing. She was being ridiculous and clearly exaggerating what had really happened.
"Mum, that's ridiculous. You're just saying that because I'm your son."
"Oh, so you think I'm so old that I have forgotten what it's like to be young and horny and what it looks like when girls flirt with boys?"
I know she was just making a point, but the way she said that shocked me. Growing up, you don't really think of your mother as a sexual being. I certainly know you aren't supposed to think of your mother in a sexual way, but when it's thrust upon you like this, it can be mind-bending.
