Her Sons Friend 1

Author's Note: All characters are twenty-one or older.

*****

Michelle sat on the couch in front of the white-cloaked window in her living room, reading an old beat up copy of Stephen King's "The Stand" by a bright white lamp that stood by the arm of the couch. She had been reading since twelve and was about to close the book when she heard the front door unlock. She looked in that direction and when it opened her son came in. He was dressed in a blue jersey, white basketball shorts, black sneakers, and as soon as he turned around, she saw that he had on the saddest face she could ever imagine.

Sitting up a little, concern overtaking her, she asked, "Jamie?"

No answer.

"Jamie? Is everything all right?"

"What?" he said, looking up at her with an expression that told her he had forgotten she even lived with him.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" she said, forgetting to put the Game of Thrones bookmark she had placed on the arm of the chair back in the book and dropping the book on the seat next to her. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah—I mean, not really...I don't know."

"What's going on?" she said, standing up.

He shook his head lightly, hung it down low, but didn't say anything.

"Jamie." She walked over to him, her double D tits and fat bubble butt bouncing with each step. "Tell me, baby," she said, putting one arm on his shoulder and the other on the side of his face. "What's wrong?" She could feel his cheeks warm up as she waited for him to answer and wondered if it had anything to do with his love life. She hoped not, of course. Those conversations were always so uncomfortable and she'd rather her husband deal with those, but if she had no other choice, then she would have to at least let him start the conversation. It was just easier that way.

"It's Daniel."

Her heart exploded with relief. Good, she thought. Then it's not about love...Or was it? Is he about to come out the closet? Oh, god, I hope not! It wasn't that she was homophobic in anyway. She always believed that everyone had the right to be who they were born to be (no matter what), but the people around these parts weren't so cool with that sort of thing, so there would be problems regardless of how she felt, and she didn't want him to have to go through them.

"Daniel?' she said. "What about Daniel?" Oh, god, she thought. Please tell me he's not gay!

"It's nothing crazy," he said. "I mean, it is...or it's not. But it's...it just hurts, you know?"

"Okay," she said. Damn it, she thought. Here we go. The closet door is opening. Prepare for trouble.

"I've tried again and again to talk it over with him and he still just ignores me. It's like he doesn't even care that he doesn't care, you know what I mean?"

"Honey, what the hell are you talking about?" she said, frustration growing rapidly in her voice. It was like waiting for the judge to call your name for jury duty. It was taking too long. Just come out with it already. I want to hear it.

"Daniel, Mom!" Jamie said. "I'm talking about Daniel. He's not talking to me anymore. We haven't talked in weeks. I've been trying to get him to talk to me so we can make up, but he just keeps ignoring all my calls. And when I went to his house today he didn't answer the door, but I knew he was there because I could see his garage in the car-I mean, his car in the garage. He thinks I'm stupid or something."

"But what happened that you guys aren't speaking to each other anymore?" Michelle said, confused. She took her hands off of her son and placed them on her thin, model-like hips, wondering if he was still coming out of the closet or if there was no closet to begin with.

"I don't know," he said. "I mean, I do know, but it's a long story and I don't feel like going into it."

"Well, I do, so spill it! Come on. I have all day. Your father's not coming home this weekend and I can always order takeout if it gets too late to cook."

"All right, then," he said. "But I warned you. You see, it all started on a bright sunny August day back in nineteen-ninety-two. Dad had just come home from work when he got a phone call that you were in the hospital—"

"All right, all right, smart ass," Michelle said, a smile growing on her face. "I get the joke. Ha! Ha! Now tell me the real story."

"That is the real story. I was born on that day."

"I know. I mean, the story of how you and Daniel stopped talking to each other. Come on. Fast forward to two weeks ago."

"Don't you mean rewind to two weeks ago."

"Whatever, Jamie, you know what I mean," she said, her smiling growing bigger. "Come on. Get to it. Or I'll have to beat it out of you."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me."

The best thing about their relationship, to Michelle, anyway, was the fact that they could talk to each other in this way and still respect each other as mother and son without it getting too out of hand. Most parents, as soon as they have children, become cold, heartless dictators who would never care for their children enough to allow them to have some of what America calls Freedom, but not Michelle. As soon as she had Jamie, she made a promise to herself that she would be one of those cool moms you always see on corny teen soap operas on week nights. Her husband may have not been on board with it in the beginning, but fuck him! She did it anyway and it turned out just fine.

"Okay. Here it goes. Me and Daniel were in the park walking around like we always do when we're board when I told him that I really liked that girl Jessica."

"The one that works down in Mason's?" Relief filled her veins. He wasn't gay. Thank god, she thought.

"Yeah. That one. But I didn't know that he also liked her as well, so I just kept rambling on about how much I liked her and all that stuff, when he started getting mad and told me to stop talking about her like that."

"Stop talking about her like what?" Michelle asked.

"You know..."

"No, I don't know," she said, sounding serious. "Tell me. I'd like to know." Actually, she did know. Of course she did. All women know about the way guys talk about them. She just wanted to fuck with him a bit. Like she always did.

"Mom," he said.

"Okay," she said, chuckling. "I'm sorry. Go on."

"Jesus. You see what I said? It's a long story."

"Okay, okay! Go ahead. I won't hold you back any longer."

"I hope not."

"I won't."

"Good."

"Cause I wanna know what happened."

"So-"

"Cause I love you."

"-I asked him."

"Cause you're my son."

"Mom," he said, frustrated.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop."

"Jeez, Mom. You want me to tell the story or what?"

"I do. Go ahead. I'm finished."

He shook his head. "All right, so-"

"I really am."

"I'm done," he shook his head as he threw up his hands in surrender and walked around her."

"Okay! No! Jamie! I'm sorry," his mother shouted as she laughed and watched him walk down the long narrow hallway passed the kitchen to his room. "Come back. I won't interrupt you this time! I promise!

"I'll tell you later," he called back to her in a kind of don't-count-on-it sort of way, then went in his room, closing the door behind him.

Michelle laughed a little more as she thought about how pissed he must've been, then shook her head, and sat back down on the couch. After a moment of thinking about how strong Jamie and Daniel's friendship was and how ridiculous it was for them to be fighting over a woman like this, she came to the conclusion that she should be the one to mend them back together. By any means necessary. Even if that meant killing the chick they fought over so that none of them could get her. A little extreme, yes, but since Michelle had a dark sense of humor, she didn't think it so bad to play out a scenario like that in her head before letting it fade off into the blimps of obscurity. Picking up the Stephen King paperback, she realized she had forgotten to place the bookmark on the page she had been reading and, with a sigh, she began search through the thousand-plus page book, looking for the last scene she had read.

That night, when dinner was on the kitchen table ready to be eaten, Michelle sat down at her spot and waited for Jamie to join her. When he finally did, he looked just as sad as he had when he come home earlier that day.

"Hey, sweetie," she said, trying to sound as soothing as a mother should sound when they see their son in such pain. "Dinner's ready. Look, I made Spaghetti and meatballs. Your favorite." There was enough spaghetti on his plate to feed an entire village and enough meat balls and sauce to keep the Italian blood within him from crying out "blasphemy" over and over again until he went insane, but it didn't make him the least bit happier. He sat down on the chair, took the fork sitting next to the plate, and dug it into the spaghetti, playing around with it a bit.

"Honey, eat up," she said. "I made all this. You don't want it to go to waste, now do you?"

"I guess not," he said, and scooped up some spaghetti and put it in his mouth, slurping up whatever hung over his chin.

"Good?" she asked.

"Yeah. Very good."

"Good," she said. "Cause I would've beat you up if you said anything otherwise."

"I bet you would have."

She couldn't take it anymore. Tears began to fill up in her eyes. This was her son, who she loved with all her heart. The last thing she ever wanted to see was him upset, yet here he was. Upset as ever. She knew she had to do something. But what could she do? What could she do to cheer him up? Talk to Daniel? Yeah, that was a good idea. But how? By phone? No. She knew him to well to do that. Besides, what if Jamie overheard? He might've gotten embarrassed that, at twenty-two, his mommy still had to call his friend to fix everything. So what else could she do? Go to his house? Sounded like a good idea. She nodded to herself, then ate a piece of meatball. All right, then, she thought. It's settled. I'll go over there tomorrow and talk to Daniel. Try to make things better.

Before they get worse.

The next morning, Michelle got up nice and early, took a warm, refreshing shower, then put on a low cut blue dress that barely contained her huge tits and ass, black high heels, and her hair in a perfectly put together bun behind her head, and went to check on her son. Opening the door of his bedroom just a crack, she saw that he was still sleeping, his face turned this way, breathing in and out and he smiled to himself and dreamed something sweet. Probably thinking about a woman or something, Michelle thought as she closed the door softly.

Daniel's house was three blocks away from hers, but she drove her black Ford Focus there anyway. The day was hotter than the pits of Hell and the sun brighter than a gay man getting an excellent price on a new pair of shoes and there was no way she was going to let the weather destroy her makeup or her perfectly put together bun. Michelle may not have been as vain as the other ladies in the neighborhood, but she knew what looking good meant. Parking the car on the street in front of the lawn, Michelle turned off the car and looked up at the house. The house was new, built just a couple of years ago when the city decided to get all optimistic and shit, but it didn't look that way. The white the city had blanketed it in was fading like it was nobody's business and the porch, which used to be bright brown and full of life, was now moldy and as lifeless as can be. The lawn was green, but tall and full of weeds. It was a wonder why the Home Owner's Association hadn't complained about this place yet. Maybe they're getting tired of being two-faced hypocrites, Michelle thought as she opened her door and got out the car.

Immediately, rays from the sun burned her entire body and she wanted to go back in the car. No, she thought to herself as she closed the door. You have to do this. For Jamie. She climbed the steps of the porch and walked up to the door. Sweat formed at the top of her forehead and she wiped it away. Damn, she thought. My freaking makeup. She rang the door bell. As she waited she looked around at the neighborhood. The neighborhood was mostly empty, except for an elderly obese couple walking up the street, and mostly quiet except for the distant sound of a dog barking hear or there. When she realized it had been a little bit since she'd last rang the doorbell, she rang it again. I should've called first, she thought. Made sure he was here.

Before she could even consider giving up, she heard the door unlock and open and what she saw behind it made her flinch. It was Daniel. Only he wasn't wearing anything but a pair of black underwear and a gold cross around his neck and his skin was pale and tired and his hair in a mess. There were bags under his eyes and red marks on his cheeks from what she assumed were tears and the smell of alcohol filled her nostrils as she inhaled.

"Ms. Oliver?" Daniel said, in a dead voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh," Michelle said, wondering what to say next. Last night she had come up with a whole speech she thought would help Daniel and Jamie get back to together, but she couldn't for the life of her remember one sentence from it. Seeing Daniel in such a horrible state really took it out of her. "I was just...I was driving and I thought I'd stop by."

"Okay," Daniel said, not looking at her but through her as if she were just an image in his mind (or a hallucination, depending on whether or not he was using drugs).

She expected him to invite her inside, but when he didn't, she said, "May I come in? There's something I think we should talk about."

Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "Okay." He moved out of the doorway and she stepped inside.

The air in the house was cool and refreshing and lit brightly by lamps, but she'd rather it was dark so she didn't have to see how dirty the living room was. Oh, my god, she thought, her mouth open in a half circle. There were bags of chips and cookie crumbs and chocolate wrappers and cans of soda and beer all over the wood floor, the leather couch, and the red carpet sitting in the middle of the room. There were porn magazines and DVDs stacked up against the foot of the black leather recliner and a pizza box on the seat itself. On top of that, the room smelled like dry semen and piss and the walls were splattered with some sort of red substance that Michelle hoped wasn't blood. The television was off, but she couldn't help but think that if she turned it on it would be tuned into one of the adult pay per view channels. She looked around at it all, amazed, shocked, fearful, wondering what the hell happened in here and why.

She turned around and saw Daniel standing by the front door, looking down at the floor. "Sorry about the mess," he said. "I haven't gotten around to cleaning."

"Mess? It looks like a bunch of stoners had a party in here. What the hell is going on?" He didn't answer her, so she said, "Honey. Why is it so filthy?"

"I told you," he said. "I haven't got around to cleaning it." Instead of sounding defensive, he sounded regretful as if he had no other choice.

"Is this because of what Jamie did?"

He looked up at her. "He told you about that?"

"Some of it. Yeah. But, Daniel, that's no reason to let yourself go like this. This is...ridiculous. You're twenty-one years old. A grown man. You have to learn to let such little things go. I know Daniel asked out the woman you like, but it's not like he stole her from you. And even then-"

"The woman I like?" Daniel said, now sounding defensive. "Is that what he told you?" His voice got higher, angrier. "That he stole a woman I liked?" He put heavy emphasis on the word liked and instantly Michelle knew what had happened and her heart leaped into her throat. No, she thought. That bastard.

"He didn't steal a woman I liked," he said. "Jessica was my girlfriend."

Michelle couldn't believe it. Her son, who she had always seen as one of the greatest people in the world, a true saint, was actually a sinner, and not a normal everyday sinner. He was an asshole. A girlfriend stealer. One of those guys that she hated but used to fuck in college all those years ago. How could she have let him get like this? Maybe it was because her and her husband didn't beat him or maybe it was because he was just born an asshole who was good at making himself seem like a good person. She didn't know. All she knew was that he had betrayed his best friend when he stole his girlfriend and her when he lied straight to her face.

"Oh, Daniel, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"Me, neither. I found out from Chuck the gas station owner." He pointed to the television. "He caught the whole thing on tape."

"He what?" Michelle said, confused.

"Damn," Daniel said, realizing he made a huge mistake. "I shouldn't have told you that. I wasn't even supposed to know myself, but Chuck keeps a video camera in the woman's bathroom in the gas station. He usually uses it to record woman using the bathroom."

Well, this day just keeps on getting better and better, Michelle thought. First she found out that her son lied to her and stole his best friend's girl, then she found out that all those times she used the bathroom at Chuck's gas station are on the pervert's video camera. What's next? Am I going to find out that my nephew Timmy is gay and fucking his best friend?

"But on this occasion he caught Jessica blowing Jamie and because he cares about me he decided to tell me, but I really wish he hadn't. It's so horrible knowing about what they did. Watching what they did. Together." He lowered his head and wiped his eyes as tears rolled down them. "I trusted them so much. It feels like my heart's been ripped out of my chest." He starting sobbing.

Mine, too, she thought as she walked over to him and put a hand on his warm, wet cheek. "Daniel, sweetie, don't cry. Daniel." All the years she had known this guy, all the times he had come over to her house or she had picked him up from the arcade or his job along with Jamie, she had never seen an ounce of sadness on his face. So this was unbelievable. It made her want to cry.

But she couldn't.

She kept telling herself: Stay strong! Stay Strong! Stay strong for Daniel! He's been through a lot lately. Don't make him feel any worse. Make him feel better.

But how?

She thought about that for a little bit as she brought his head down to her shoulder and his body closer to hers, and when she felt his crotch press against hers a brilliant idea appeared at the front of her mind.

Am I really going to do this? Yes. Fuck it. He was single. She was single. And even if she wasn't it still wouldn't be a bad thing, because she was a person and everybody has the right to fuck whoever they want, regardless of whether or not they are with someone.

Then how could she judge Jessica and Jamie for having sex behind Daniel's back?

Stop it, Michelle. Fuck moral questions right now and just focus on your idea. You can deal with morality later.

"Honey," she said, her body getting hot, her pussy getting wet, her lips, hands, and legs, beginning to tremble a bit. "Daniel, sweetie." she rubbed the back of his head lightly, feeling the softness of his smelly, messed up hair.

No answer. Just sobbing.

"Daniel, honey. Answer me, sweetie. I want to ask you something."

"Y-y-yes," he said, in between sobs and a cough.

"Let's go upstairs, Honey," she said. "There's something I want to show you. Come on." She tapped his back as she softly pulled herself away from him. "Come on. You'll like it. I promise."

"What is it?" he said, sounding innocent and curious. He lifted his head to look at her through red, pain-filled eyes.

"You'll see," she said, completely free from him. She grabbed his hand and led the way to his bedroom. "Come on. I'll show you."

"Okay," he said, weakly, trying his hardest to calm down. She had the feeling that he already knew what she wanted to show him, but she didn't want to confirm his suspicions just yet. After all, everything is better when you have to wait for it.