I have loved my parents since the day I was born. I was their only child, and growing up, I got almost anything I wanted, from toys to a bicycle to a computer and the newest cellphone.
Dad worked long hours as a manager in a large software company. Still, we spent quality time together most weekends - Watching movies, playing board games, traveling, and being busy with our hobbies (initially collecting stamps and later photography).
Mom worked part-time as a secretary in a prominent attorney's office, so she had more time for me on weekdays. We loved to chat about books, paintings, homework assignments, my friends, and even sports. She was by far my best friend in elementary school. In high school, I became busier studying hard and spending more time with other students, but I still found time to spend with my family.
At 17, my body began changing rapidly. I was of average height and weight earlier, but then my growth spurt started, and by 19, I was 6'2". As a senior in high school, I joined a health club and spent, on average, 6 hours a week exercising and 2 hours swimming. As a result, at 19, I weighed 185 pounds of pure muscle.
On my 19th birthday, Mom showed me pictures of Dad at a similar age. Except for his longer, darker hair, we looked alike. She hugged me and said, "I am sorry to lose my adorable little son, but I am happy to gain a loving grown man."
Unfortunately, our happy life came to an abrupt stop one evening. My father was driving home from work when a drunk driver sped straight into his side door. My Dad was rushed to the hospital and underwent a series of tests. Two days later, we were devastated to find out the spinal cord was damaged at the neck, and Dad would likely remain paralyzed for life. In the following weeks, we sent his scans to 5 academic centers, but the responses we got were all the same - The chances he would ever move his limbs were less than 1%.
Mom behaved bravely near Dad but cried her heart out when she was alone. Dad was at his best. When we were with him, he tried to cheer us up, joking he knew that not believing in god would cost him one day, so he arranged very good disability and life insurance. I was sure his mood was much different when he was alone. However, I didn't know how to help him. I took two weeks off from school. I washed, fed, and helped him on the toilet every day. When the two weeks were over, we had a hired help do it.
Slowly, we got used to the new routine. Mom spent most of her free time talking to Dad, and I joined them on weekends.
Three months have passed. I came home from college on a Friday to be with Dad on his 48 birthday. I entered the house, and Mom hugged me, "Adam, tomorrow is Dad's birthday. Any idea what present we should give him?"
A month earlier, Dad started working with a computer designed for paralyzed people. It was a slow progress. He also had a motorized wheelchair that was operated by his mouth. In his specially arranged room, he had a large-screen TV. With his obvious limitations, I had no idea what gift would make him happier. I suggested taking him to his favorite restaurant and later strolling with him in the nearest park. Mom didn't come up with a better suggestion, so that became the plan.
Saturday was a lovely sunny day. Mom smiled at Dad and told him what our plan was. He was cheerful but said he needed to talk privately with Mom when we returned home. I assumed it was related to a financial matter and soon forgot about it.
The steaks were tasty, and the desserts were delicious. Mom and Dad looked so happy! Next, we strolled on the park's pavement, watching the geese and swans on the lake and the beautiful old trees. We returned home tired.
Dad reminded Mom he needed to talk to her. I went to my room and left the door ajar. I worked on my laptop for about half an hour and saw Mom leaving Dad with tears in her eyes.
I jumped to her side, "Mom, what happened?"
She tried unsuccessfully to smile, "Oh, nothing important, honey. Dad had a crazy idea, and we argued, but it shouldn't concern you, and the discussion is over."
It was apparent Mom did not want to talk about it, and I did not insist either.
Two months later, I came home for the weekend, as usual. After dinner, Mom told me she had to visit her mother for a day because she fell on the stairs and suffered a sprained ankle. She was treated in an urgent care facility but needed help around the house for several hours. I suggested joining her and helping. Mom insisted I stay with Dad, and She'd return within 24 hours.
An hour after Mom left, Dad summoned me to his room. He asked me to sit down and listen carefully to what he had to say. Never before Dad started a conversation using these words, and I had no clue where he was going with it.
He said, "Son, you are an adult now. I have been disabled for more than six months, and it's clear I'll stay paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of my life. Fate was cruel to me, but we can do nothing about it. The situation is different regarding your mother. She is only 42 years young. On my birthday, I tried my best to convince her to divorce me and marry somebody else, but she wouldn't listen. She said that as long as I was alive, the only two men in her life were you and me. Her stubbornness is killing me. A week from now is her birthday, and I came up with a deviant idea, but I think it's the best. Please listen well. I do not want you to answer me now, but think about it for a few days before telling me if you agree. OK?"
"Dad, I do not understand. Tell me what you want me to do."
He stared at me for a long moment and blurted, "Adam, Mom has needs I cannot fulfill. I am not talking about traveling or going to the opera. I mean physical needs. Sex was always an essential part of our connection. We took advantage of our free time when you were not at home and had sex at least three times a week. Your mom loved our sexual encounters! Mom's mood had changed for the worse about two weeks after my accident. Initially, I thought it was because of her mental anguish, but I know her too well and can clearly see she is antsy and misses sex very much. Even masturbation has its limits to a woman who got used to pleasurable intercourse with a man. Son, I know Mom loves you, and you love her. It's time to do something I never thought possible. I want you to seduce your mother to have sex with you."
He stopped and glanced at me.
I was stunned. I stayed quiet for a long time. He waited patiently.
"Dad, are you suggesting I commit incest?"
"Adam, the short answer is 'yes.' Do you understand if you don't do it, your loving mom will suffer for years, at least until I die, and maybe longer? Let me put it differently: Mom is still beautiful. Before my accident, I saw you trying to peek at her cleavage and glimpse at her body when she came out of the shower covered in a towel. It's a normal behavior of an 18-year-old young man full of hormones, but it also tells me you won't suffer bedding your mother. Am I right?"
I blushed profusely, "Sorry... I didn't think you noticed."
He grinned, "I wasn't the only one. Mom was aware of it, too. One evening, we talked about it, and she said it was a fantastic compliment that a young guy found her attractive. Adam, as I told you, I do not expect an answer now, but as the man of the house, it became your duty to take care of your Mom's needs. The shock of my suggestion should last a day or two. If you agree, let me know as soon as possible, and I'll tell you how to go about it to maximize your chance of success."
...
I couldn't sleep the night. I tossed and turned the whole time. I loved Mom and would sacrifice myself to save her from any enemy, but to commit incest?!... In my wet dreams, I occasionally fantasized about the 50-year-old Russian, who used to sunbathe in her skimpy bikini, or my former biology teacher. Still, I never dreamed about having sex with Mom. Well, like others my age, I once checked Mom's underwear drawer to see her bra size and smell her colorful panties, but never in my wildest dreams was I ready for my Dad's 'offer.'
Mom returned home the following evening. She pretended to be happy, but her eyes were red. I knew she cried on her way back. I led Mom to our yard to show her the red roses that started blooming. As we strolled among the pretty flowers, I noticed Mom never smiled.
I hugged her, "Mom, are you all right?"
She began crying nonstop on my shoulder. I held her tight, "Mom, is there anything I can do to help?"
"Sorry, honey. I don't think so. My mother is doing better, but we had a long discussion about the future. It ended up with a bitter argument. She thought I needed to divorce your father and rebuild my life from scratch. I told her I'd never do it, even though your father told me to do it too. I love him very much, and I'll never leave him. She said I was too young to get stuck with a husband who couldn't love me. I became distraught and left."
I kissed her cheek and whispered, "Mom, I love you so much!"
Her body clutched to mine, "Adam, you and your dad are my only buddies. Thank you for being you."
That was the moment that changed my perspective. I was scared to death, but it was the right thing to do. The same evening, when Mom went to the bathroom, I approached Dad and told him I'd do it.
He smiled, "Son, I know how difficult it was for you to make that decision, but occasionally adults have to make hard choices. In the long run, you and Mom will be happy you made the right decision. As for me, I am already happy you agreed to help Mom. We do not have time to discuss it now because she'll be out of the bathroom any minute. However, tomorrow afternoon, she'll spend an hour with her hairstylist. Come talk to me when she is gone."
...
I waited a few moments after Mom left the house and sat to talk to Dad.
He looked at me strangely for several seconds and said, "Adam, your mission may sound impossible, but I think it's doable. Mom's birthday is the upcoming weekend. I'll pretend to be too tired to leave the house in the evening. Take Mom to the bar on Park Street. It's the same one I took Mom when I proposed to her. She'll remember the place, and her emotions may take over. Ask her what drink she'd like. It doesn't matter what she says; bring her Tequila Sunrise. This is the drink I brought her back then, and she loved it. More importantly, over the years, I noticed cocktails containing Tequila loosened her more than other drinks. While there, talk with her about her life and her mother, and refuse to talk about me. Hit the dance floor for two or three dances. By then, the Tequila will affect her, so take her home. I'll be asleep in my room with my door closed. Help Mom to her bedroom and do exactly what I did the first night we made love. I think you'll be successful."
Next, he made me repeat the steps one by one until everything was engraved in my brain. Then he added, "One last thing - Buy purple and yellow roses before you leave the house, and make sure they are in the cream-colored vase in front of her mirror when she reenters her bedroom!"
"OK, Dad. I think I got it. I hope you are right. I'll be devastated if Mom rejects me and throws me out of the house for inappropriate behavior."
He smiled bitterly, "Son, I doubt it. She loves you too much, and you are the only one she can lean on these days. The alcohol will make it easier for her to accept she needs you more than just a good son."
"Thank you, Dad."
"Good luck, son, and don't you forget, I love your Mom and always will. You better handle the treasure you inherit with kid gloves!"
...
The following Saturday morning, the three of us ate breakfast together. I reminded Mom it was her birthday, and I wanted us to go out and celebrate it with style.
She chuckled, "Honey, it's no big deal. I am 43, not an important round number. Let's not make too much fuss about it."
