When psychiatrists blame all your issues on your mother, they could be onto something. My mother is a textbook case.
A little bit of background on my mother.
At a very young age, I realized my mother was very different from all the other mothers. She was exuberant, elegant, and very social. Physically, she was very attractive, with nice curves in all the right places. She was also a fiery redhead. You have no idea how many times people told me she resembled Ann Margret or Susan Sarandon. At church, all the men seemed to go out of their way to speak to her. She was a magnet for men.
I also picked up that my parents were an odd match. As beautiful as my mother was, my father was just plain looking. He was a kind and gentle man, but I hate to say it, he was overweight and sloppy-looking. He was also quiet and unassuming.
When I was young, I recall my mother frequently going out in the evenings without my father. She was always dressed fashionably and well, even sexy now that I think of it. I was always told it was for a ladies' group or some other church function. Many times she came home very late, and on a few occasions she didn't come home until the next morning. Being young, I never clued in or questioned any of her actions. This was just normal for our family.
I remember being home with my father many evenings when my mom was out and about. My father also got us girls ready for school the next morning while my mother slept in. Again, I was young and never thought anything about it.
As much as she was a social butterfly, she was profoundly lacking in parenting skills. She was not the nurturing type and certainly did not spend any more time with me than she had to. I recall my father being more of a caregiver than my mother. My mother seemed to have other priorities.
My mother came from a non-religious family. My father made sure we never had anything to do with my mother's side of the family. The few times I met them, I knew they were wildly different and nothing like the church people I was groomed to associate with. My father not only sheltered me and my siblings from her side of the family but also the world outside of the church.
Of course, being a child, she was just my mom. As I got into my teens and beyond, I began to pick up on little things and question what had been going on for all those years.
There were two traumatic events in my life regarding my mother that opened my eyes and made me realize what was going on. This is a recount of the first event.
The spring, I was nineteen, my father announced that we would be boarding a member of a Scottish church choir that was touring our region. They would be staying with us for a week. He told us that the person staying with us would be a man and that he would sleep in the basement on the pull-out couch. I objected, as the basement was my domain, but I was over-ruled. I didn't really care or give it much thought as I pictured it being some old nerdy guy that lived with his mother. I mean, what kind of man sings in a church choir?
A few months later, I came home for dinner, and to my surprise, there was this young, hot-looking guy sitting at the table. I was pleasantly surprised but confused. Who's this? Why is he here? I had completely forgotten about the church choir guest we were hosting.
I was taken aback by his good looks as I fumbled for words. He had gorgeous blue eyes that made my heart skip a beat.
"April, this is Liam from Scotland, and he is going to be staying with us for the week," my mother said, with a big grin on her face.
"Good looking" was an understatement. He was a few years older than me, had long hair, and had a tattoo. He looked like he had just stepped off the cover of Rolling Stone. He belonged in a rock band, not a church choir. He also had a sexy Scottish accent. I was floored. I don't think I ever smiled so much at a family dinner. This was going to be a fun week.
I was dating a guy at the time but he had nothing on Liam. Liam became my number one priority that week as I quickly became unavailable to my boyfriend.
During the first few days he was with us, I really didn't see him much. My parents both worked, and I had a summer job. Liam had a full schedule with choir engagements in the evening and practise during the day. Just the same, as soon as I returned home from work, I changed into sexy, skimpy outfits. It was summer, so I wore the most flimsy sexy top I could find, with no bra, of course. Always in short shorts or skirts. The little time that I saw Liam, I always made a point to tease and flirt with him. I caught him looking at me a few times. I knew I had piqued his interest.
However, I also noticed that my mother was very attentive to Liam. Maybe overly attentive? She, too, was more dressed up than usual. I think I saw more of my mother's cleavage that week than I had ever seen. She was continually touching him in a playful manner. She was all over him, but that was just what my mother was like. She has always been a very touchy person, so I put it down to her being a good host.
I learned that by mid-week, Liam would have a day off from his busy choir schedule. This was the opportunity I was waiting for. I told work I had an appointment that afternoon and had to leave at noon. I knew my parents were at work and my little sister was away at church camp. I would come home early and have the entire afternoon with Liam... alone.
I was thrilled with my plan and all the possibilities. That day, I rushed home, and before entering the house, I unbuttoned a couple of buttons on my blouse and hiked up my skirt. I couldn't wait to spend some alone time with Liam. I knew from our previous interactions that there was chemistry between us. I had every intention of seducing Liam that afternoon.
As I entered the house, I heard noises coming from upstairs. I knew it wasn't my father; he was at work and his car was gone. I walked towards the stairs and paused to listen. Moans and grunts emanated from the upper floor bedrooms. It sounded like someone was hurt or in pain. Was that Liam? Who else could it be? Is Liam not feeling well? What's he doing upstairs in the bedrooms? Maybe it was an intruder? I was terrified as I slowly and quietly tiptoed up the stairs.
I realized the noises were coming out of my parents' room. The door was open a crack, but I was too scared to look in, so I just held my breath and listened. As I listened, I heard soft moans and then the unmistakable sound of the mattress squeaking. What the fuck... who's having sex in my parents' room!
As I mustered up the courage to peer through the door opening, I saw Liam ploughing into a girl with her legs spread up in the air. What the hell? Where did Liam find a girl? The nerve of him bringing a girl into the house, not to mention taking her into my parents' room. I was upset and disappointed as I turned away to sneak back down the stairs.
And that's when I heard it... the unmistakable voice of... MY MOTHER!
Holly shit, it wasn't some girl... it was my MOTHER!
No, it can't be my mother. My brain must be playing tricks on me. I quickly returned to the door to peek in again. What I saw scarred me for the rest of my life.
I saw Liam's bare white ass pumping away into my mother as she began screaming and encouraging Liam... in her words,
"Fuck the Jesus out of me."
