A/N - Hello all. To be honest, I was struggling to think of where to put this story as I didn't want to write a story in the same category as one of the previous four stories. However, while this does have an element of 'First Time', I've chosen this category as I simply think it fits better here. I think 'First Time' would have been more suitable if the ages of both people were similar.
Much like my 'Love Around the World' series, most of these stories will probably only be around 10k to 15k words. Well, that'll be the aim though they might go for longer, as long as the stories don't drone on unnecessarily!
Previous stories in this series:
My Brother's Best Friend (Transgender)
My Father's Best Friend (Gay Male)
My Mother's Best Friend (Mature)
My Sister's Best Friend (First Time)
Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of reading the following: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, and bad grammar at times.
Proofreading and editing suggestions provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.
Comments are appreciated as always.
Feedback by email is always welcome. Enjoy chatting with anyone who likes my work.
*****
A young man comes of age thanks to his aunt and her best friend.
*****
I was ten years old when my aunt was awarded custody of me. My mother was very young when she gave birth to me. My father wasn't much older, and they struggled as teenage parents. Mum didn't finish high school, my father barely managed to obtain his higher school certificate stating that he graduated, and from then on, things only got worse.
It's fair to say my parents were junkies. They were simply another statistic of young people in the western suburbs of Sydney, barely making enough to make ends meet, finding solace in alcohol, drugs and other vices. My father was little more than a sperm donor. I barely remember him showing any interest in me while I was growing up. I know my mother loved me, but while she might have tried her best, her addictions were getting the better of her.
When child services became involved, I remember my mother breaking down in tears, admitting she simply couldn't handle raising me. She said I was a good boy, but she wasn't cut out to be a mother. Her fun years as a teenager had been cut short thanks to falling pregnant, and she was finally forced to admit that she simply couldn't care for me any longer.
It was then a case of who would look after me. My grandparents were already well into their fifties by the time I was ten and didn't think of themselves capable of permanently looking after a ten-year-old boy. And they were also honest in that they'd already raised three children - my uncle, their oldest child, my aunt, the middle child, and then my mother, the youngest child - and didn't particularly want to help raise another child. My uncle was living his life to the full as a bachelor, and his one-bedroom apartment wasn't suitable for a child.
Then left my Aunt Cassandra. Child services talked to her about possibly taking me in. She didn't hesitate in stating she already had a bedroom available and ready to take me whenever they were happy that she was capable of looking after me. There were the usual checks, but it didn't take all that long for me to find myself living with my Aunt Cassandra full-time. Within a year of moving in with her, she had officially adopted me. I remember the day my mother signed the papers. She wept while hugging me, whispering she was sorry over and over again. But Mum was still struggling with her addictions and knew it wasn't going to be an easy road going forward for herself. Even my young mind understood that my mother had her demons and needed to focus on herself.
"She's doing her best," Cassandra said later that night when tucking me into bed, "Do you still love her?"
"Of course," I replied, "I'll never not love her. It's just... I won't miss living with her. And I definitely won't miss Dad."
She smiled before leaning over to kiss my forehead. "I love you, sweetheart," she said softly, "I don't expect you to call me Mum, even after today..."
"What if I want to?" I asked softly.
Aunt Cassandra had to look away for a moment, hearing her clear her throat before she looked back at me, her eyes glistening, a beautiful smile on her face. "If you want to call me some sort of title, John, I won't tell you not to..."
"Then I'm going to call you Mama from now on. Mum will always be Mum, but I should call you something too."
I found myself lifted up so she could hug me tightly, feeling her shaking as I looped my short arms around her body. "Thank you, sweetheart. I'll be the best mother I can be over the next few years."
I would love living with Cassandra and I knew how happy I made her the next morning when I walked out to the kitchen and asked, "What's for breakfast, Mama?"
She had to look away for a few seconds and I heard her sniffling. I walked over as she turned to give me a hug, making me smile as she kissed the top of my head. She said that since I was such a good boy I earned a big plate of pancakes.
Living with Cassandra gave me structure and discipline, and I think I surprised her by not going against her authority. She helped me focus on my schoolwork and was always available to help me with homework and assignments, particularly after I'd started high school. She encouraged me to play sports and loved standing on the sideline every Saturday morning in the winter.
By the time I was on the verge of turning eighteen, she'd supported me in getting my driver's licence as soon as I was legally allowed at the age of sixteen. Every weekend after I'd finished my game, she'd take me out driving and would let me drive to school each morning before she'd drive to work. When I suggested I get a part-time job to make a little pocket money, she assured me that my studies were far more important and that she made more than enough to give me a little cash whenever I wanted or needed it.
Mum wasn't in my life for a couple of years after Cassandra had adopted me. I did miss her, as despite her issues, Mum had never stopped showing love for me when I was growing up. Mum returned to my life when I was around fourteen years old. Cassandra warned Mum that she had to show a year of sobriety before she would allow our relationship to grow. To her credit, Mum showed her worth. She finished her schooling. Worked on gaining certificates, and by the time I was eighteen, she'd been in full-time employment for two years, had her own little apartment, and had long since dumped my father. She was happily single and was working on reconnecting with her family.
"Any ideas for what we should do on your eighteenth?" Cassandra asked one evening over dinner.
"Don't know. None of my friends are eighteen yet. I'm the oldest by a couple of months."