She came like a breeze and wrapped my mother in her tender arms. My mother rejoiced in her embrace and giggled like a teenager in the arms of her lover. She let go of my mother with a sense of longing in her eyes, as if she were trying too hard not to do something inappropriate.
A person freshly out of her teenage era had nothing to do with two middle-aged women interacting. So I didn't budge from my lounge chair but my eyes scanned every move they made. I traced their steps and soon they were standing before me. My mother proudly shoved her friend in my face, saying my full name and stating how good of a daughter I was to her.
I let out a polite 'hello, and she said it back to me. Afterwards, my mother took her by the hand and disappeared into the house. I stayed on the lawn till the sun completely went down the horizon and the words on the pages (of the books I was reading) were ineligible to me.
The next time I saw her was during the dinner, she was wearing the softest night gown I had ever seen, maroon in color with a front wrap closure. While I was stuffing my stomach with the not-so-appetizing supper, my mother disclosed the reason for the presence of her friend. She was to house-sit. My immediate response was to fight back but I realized I wasn't a teenager anymore so I shouldn't throw a tantrum. Instead, I took a minute and came to the conclusion that it was better if she would be here to take care of the house for I would not have to be alert through the entire duration of my mother's absence. Bonus: There won't be any strangers getting paid to do so.
During that supper, I also got to know that the friend of the mother was quite young. I mean she was in her mid thirties. I wonder how my mother and she met each other. And why?
The night wasn't rolling smoothly and I kept tossing and turning wide awake. I slapped my hand on the mattress beside me, searching for my book but I felt nothing. I grunted in disappointment when I recalled misplacing my book somewhere downstairs. I got up and walked downstairs. I held onto the railing firmly and navigated each staircase carefully, taking one step at a time. I had this phobia that someday I would skip one stair and die. Some sort of morbid premonition, if you will. I don't know how I got it or when?
When I landed my last step safely, my ear perked up at a certain noise coming from my parents bedroom, which occupied only my mother (after my father died) and now the housesitter. I wonder if they were catching up after reuniting after a long time. I took firm steps and found the door to be open just a nick. Suddenly, an ominous feeling caught my chest and I thought of running back to my bedroom but a spark went through my core at the thought of peeking into my mother's bedroom, which she now occupied with her friend.
I allowed just my eyes to linger by the creak and kept the rest of my body hidden. I was standing in an awkward position but the waist ache was soon forgotten when I saw my mother on her knees. Her dirty blonde hair, which was once tied in a neat ponytail, was now in distress. My vague sense of pity for my mother had changed into a genuine feeling of disgust for this wretchedness. Her face was leaning into the space between her legs. The front-closure nightgown was open to full view. Because of my mother, I saw the arch of her taut waist form and then wane. My eyes then instinctively went to her face. Her eyes once shut with pleasure opened as soon as mine fell on them.
I ran back up as light-footed as possible and buried myself under my cover as quickly as possible.
The next morning, with agile steps, I found myself in the kitchen. I prepared myself a cup of coffee. On the fridge, I found the note from my mother saying she left at dawn and I too had to take active part in taking care of the house.
"G'morning,"
My heart leapt into my throat.
"Jeez, you scared me."
She gave a hearty laugh but never apologized. She was still in her front closure gown from the night before and I could not shake the image of my mother kneeling before her. Pleasuring her. And then she caught me literally red-faced.
"Good Morning, Miss-"
"Can I have a cup of coffee too, please?"
I placed my coffee cup down and started brewing a cup for her.
We both drank our coffee in silence. I wanted to leave the kitchen so I left a quarter of my coffee and placed the cup in the sink. She did the same, but hers was empty. Being in her vicinity bothered me. Involuntarily, I took a step away from her and walked out of the kitchen.
If she weren't sleeping with my mother, then I would have kept her some company; any company, but no, that's not the reason. I was feeling guilty for snooping on them. Guilty for snooping? Guilty for---?
A knock on my door made me jump yet again.
