"Mom! I'm home!", I announced as I stepped through the doorway, relieved to be back after a long day at school.
"In here, sweetie!", came the distant reply from somewhere down the hall. Slipping off my shoes, I made my way towards the source of the voice. Turning into the kitchen, I was greeted by a delicious smell of meat and spices. A lone woman - my mother - stood by the counter, carefully sautéing something on the stovetop. She looked up as I entered the room, her face breaking out into the gentlest smile imaginable before walking over with her arms spread. I returned her hug without a second thought.
Mom had always been the touchy-feely type, showering me with hugs and kisses for as long as I could remember. Maybe I was a bit old for it by now, but I
did
love her a lot, and I knew it was just how she showed affection. So, while it'd be a different matter if we were in public, I didn't mind indulging her in the privacy of our own home.
"Welcome home, Tommy. How was school?" Mom asked.
My mother's face was pleasant and kind, with only moderate hints of wrinkles dotting her fair skin. Her wavy, ash blonde hair was quite long, ending at about her waist, and she wore a pink apron over a simple white top and long yellow skirt. She looked all the world like a traditional housewife preparing dinner - because she was, I guess.
"Pretty good. We finally had that chemistry exam, and I think I nailed it."
"Well, I'm hardly surprised. Science has always been your forte." Her smile widened. It wasn't a surprise for me to do well at school, but she still looked so proud every time. "Anyway, could you be a dear and set the table? Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes."
"Sure thing. Just let me stash my backpack and I'll get right on it." Soon enough, I was arranging plates on the table while Mom was standing back over the stove. We chatted as we went, her asking more about my day and me filling her in on all the details.
My name was Thomas Carter, eighteen years old. I was a senior in high school (my birthday was early though, so I still had most of the year to go). This was our common nightly routine; I'd come home to Mom making dinner and help out however I could. Sometimes I'd actually be in the kitchen with her, while other times all she needed was the table set, like tonight. I was an only child, so I felt like it was my responsibility to chip in; she's done so much for me in my life already.
Suddenly, we heard the sound of the front door opening from the hallway. Firm, methodical footsteps drew closer and closer, heralding the entrance of a tall, dark-suited figure into the kitchen. "Mm, something smells good," a husky voice commented.
"Good news, darling! It's your favorite: beef and broccoli," Mom responded.
The newcomer adjusted their red tie, set their briefcase down on the floor, and walked towards Mom. "You're too good for me, Linda."
With little regard for the active stove, they pulled Mom close and gave her a kiss. Mom didn't seem to mind - if anything, she blushed and giggled.
I just sighed. These two had been married for twenty years, and still they acted like a pair of lovebirds. It was a little much from time to time, but I saw it as a good thing at the end of the day. I'd rather have overly affectionate parents than parents that hated each other's guts. A little embarrassment was a small price to pay for a happy family.
"Evening, Thomas. Good day at school? Test go well?"
My parents had disentangled from each other, and I was now drawn into the conversation.
"Yeah, it went great... Mother."
So, if we're being particular, there was
one
way that Mom wasn't a "traditional" housewife: she was married to another woman.
While "Mom" was distinctly feminine, "Mother" was decidedly more masculine. She kept her dark brown hair in a short bob and was the tallest of our family. Unlike Mom, she preferred pants and other "men's" clothing, revealing little of her olive skin. Her personality too was brusque and straightforward, but it paired well with Mom's comparatively mellow demeanor.
Mother was also the sole breadwinner of the family. She was a successful businesswoman, and her job often forced her to work long hours. It was rare that she'd be home in time to eat with Mom and I, so nights like tonight were a rare treat.
"Glad to hear it!" Mother said, patting me on the back. "Here, let me help you with the silverware." She pitched in to finish setting the table, and before long the three of us were seated, ready to dig in.
We talked and laughed with each other for a solid hour, well after we'd finished eating. Looking between both of my mothers, smiling at me and each other, I felt truly blessed. I'd never had the troubled family life that so many of my friends at school complained about. For as long as I could remember, the three of us had been extremely tight-knit. It's not that we
never
had arguments or disagreements but, at the end of the day, we loved and trusted each other wholeheartedly.
Some were surprised to hear that I wasn't adopted, despite being the son of two women. Mom and Mother were my
biological
parents, or at least as close to it as possible. Mother's brother donated his sperm to fertilize one of Mom's eggs, and Mom had me as a normal pregnancy. Technically speaking, that made Mom my biological mother and Mother my biological
aunt
- but like I said, it was as close as possible.
-------
It was Saturday. I was camped out in my room. I think Mom was downstairs watching TV. Mother was out of the house; even though it was a weekend, there'd been some kind of work emergency that she had to handle in the office. That kind of thing wasn't unheard of, but it was thankfully infrequent.
At the moment, I was working on a science experiment. It wasn't, strictly speaking, a class assignment, but an extracurricular recommended by my school counselor. I was angling for a chemistry scholarship to a local college, and it would seriously improve my chances if I had some real lab and data collection experience to point to - even if it was informal.
It wasn't anything crazy. I
was
one of the strongest chem students at my school (which was nothing to scoff at), but at the same time I was only in high school. I could lean on textbooks and the Internet, but I simply lacked the experience and higher education to pursue anything truly
interesting
. So, that being the case - my experiment revolved around formulating a simple chemical concoction to improve plant health. Riveting.
I'd gone through two trials so far without much success, but I wasn't especially bothered. Even if things didn't pan out, failure was its own teacher, and could still show off my ability to formulate and document effective scientific trials.
I'd spent the better part of the morning writing out a new approach to a particular recipe. Satisfied with my progress, I reached for one of my prototype concoctions - and froze. It wasn't there.
After a moment's confusion, I remembered that I'd gone downstairs to grab a snack maybe ten minutes ago. I must've been holding the prototype and accidentally set it down while I ate. Not thinking much of it, I left my room and made for the kitchen.
Yep, just as suspected, it was sitting in plain view out on the counter. Relieved, I reached out for it - and froze again.
What I'd picked up was a brownish liquid in one of our family's mugs. At a glance, it
