Donna chafes under her doctor's no sex instructions. She and her brothers learn more about her new found abilities.
Many thanks to LarryInSeattle for his editing prowess.
I learn through critique and welcome comments.
Enjoy.
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I'm frozen in shock. The sheet is off the bed. The three of us are lying in one bed, naked, and our mother is staring at us. I struggle to sit up but Gary is lying on my chest. I open my mouth.
Before I can speak, mom holds a finger to her lips, shushing me. A sad little half-smile flits over her lips. She walks into the room. A single floorboard creaks in accompaniment. My brothers don't stir. I hear the water running in my bathroom. I hear mom brush her teeth. I hear water splashing and know she is washing her face. This is her usual "I'm home" ritual after traveling.
When she returns, the hair on her forehead is damp. Her face glows. She's naked. I've seen her naked before. No one in our house was overly shy, not that we flaunted it. I forget sometimes she is still a year shy of fifty. She has smallish breasts, which has minimized the sag. Her tummy is flat. I'm not really surprised to see she has an allover tan but wonder if nude sunbathing is safe in Haiti.
There is more room on Terry's side of the bed. Mom lies down. It can't be a comfortable position. She is wedged up against the headboard in order to reach over Terry's head and gently caress the outline of my bandage. I raise my head and look at her over my brother's shoulder. Her eyes are wet but she's smiling. She nods at the door and I nod back.
She rises from the bed, silent as a figment of my imagination. As I extricate myself from my brothers' double embrace, I mentally tell them to stay in bed, sleep. Whether that had an effect or whether they were simply exhausted is irrelevant. They don't stir except that Gary rolls onto his other side and Terry follows. I leave them spooning, part of me wishing it's my ass Terry's cock is nudging. I blush at wishing for such a thing in front of my mother.
As I cross the threshold, mom reaches behind me and pulls the door closed without a sound. She turns and hugs me. I lower my head to rest it on her chest and hug her back. I feel her lips press against what is left of my hair.
She takes my hand and leads me toward the kitchen. There's coffee in the pot and I wonder how long she's been here. I glance around for her luggage and don't see any. She must have put it in one of the bedrooms. I hope she put it in mine. I'm not anxious for a re-play of the raccoon incident.
She pours two cups and walks over to join me at the table. She sits at the head and I scoot a chair to the corner so I can sit closer to her. We both sip our coffee. It's hot and even stronger than the boys brew it.
"What are you doing here? The boys said they told you I was fine and not to rush home."
"They did," she nods. "I couldn't stay in Haiti if you were hurt."
"I'm fine mom, really."
"Yeah, I see that." She smiles as she says it and I blush.
I open my mouth, looking for the right words but she hushes me with one hand.
"I know all about it dear." She smirks a little. "Your brothers were always so smug, always convinced that only they could read each other. It is easier for them, after all they're twins but they got it from me. And their father. I thought you'd missed out. I felt so sorry for you but apparently that bump on the noggin woke something up." She shrugged. "Or maybe it knocked something out that was inhibiting you."
With very little forethought, I form a question in my mind, a test.
Mom smiles. "Yes, your father and I knew about the boys extra-curricular activities. They aren't fibbing to you, you know. They really don't have any interest in any other men. Your father and I weren't snoops. We learned to shut them out. It was hard sometimes, they can be...enthusiastic." She finishes with a smile.
She pats the back of my hand. "Don't worry sweetheart. I've never sensed a thing from you, not until last night. Like I said, I'm not a snoop. As long as I know you are okay I have no desire to know what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours." She grins. "Although too bad about Chad. Hubba Hubba."
"Mom," I shriek, but softly. I'm not ready to share her with the boys.
She giggles and at that moment I can see myself in her or vice versa. Whatever.
"You aren't mad at us then?"
"No," she says shaking her head over her coffee cup. She swirls the coffee, looking for answers perhaps. "No I'm not angry but I do worry. I don't really know what happened to you before your injury. I knew, from the boys, the gist of what was going on but not the details. I don't want the details. If this new ability of yours runs both ways I'll ask for the same respect of my privacy."
"Does it run both ways with the boys?"
"I don't think so. Neither your father nor I ever saw any indication they could read us the way they read each other or we could read them."
"Did it work that way for you and dad?"
Mom looks up from her coffee and her eyes glow. "Oh yes honey. We knew as soon as we set eyes on each other we were meant to be together."
"I thought you guys didn't believe in God?"
"Psst," she snorted. "There is mystery enough in the world without making up another layer of baloney. Fine, 'meant' is the wrong word. We knew we 'should' be together. Better?"
She doesn't wait for my answer. "Making love to him was the most glorious feeling in the world. Before I could fully imagine what I desired, he fulfilled the wish. And the same was true of me for him."
Images fill my head, images of my mother and father naked. These are not nebulous fleeting images. It's as if I'm standing in the room watching them. As mom's memories jump, so do the images. When I see my mom in a leather corset, I've seen more than enough. I squeeze my eyes closed, exactly as I would had I inadvertently walked in on them in flagrante delicto .
"Settle down mom," I gasp. "I just discovered it works both ways."
She smiles. "I know. As I was remembering being with your father, suddenly I could see you standing by the bed." She pats my hand again. "Just close your eyes like you did. You'll learn that all you need to do is imagine closing your eyes. It works just as well."
"You can learn to block others, not completely. You'll never be able to lie to me, or to your brothers, not that you were ever in the habit of trying. But you can block the specifics. What am I thinking?"
I picture myself listening for a faint sound, a song playing in the background that sounds familiar but can't quite make out. The picture is clear in my head but all I see is my mom. Her face wearing that mischievous smile that meant she was up to something.
She pushes her chair back. "You're strong, stronger than your father. Even knowing you were going to try, I was barely able to keep you out of my thoughts." She pushed the chair back from the table. "Come on honey. We need to do something about that hair of yours."
I follow her back to the boys' room. When she opens the door, Terry stirs. She gestures with one hand and he mumbles and resumes snoring softly. She goes into their bathroom, a Jack-n-Jill that connected with what was nominally Terry's room. She returns carrying the hair clippers my brothers use to trim their body hair.
I follow her out onto the screened porch, out the screen door that leads to the back yard, and down the path to the pier. The boathouse looks to be in better shape than the cabin and I wonder if the canoe is still there. The sun has barely cleared the trees. I'm not worried about getting burned. Will-o-wisps are dancing across the surface of the lake. It's beautiful.
We walk to the end of the dock and I sit and dangle my feet in the water. The inlet is shallow and the waterweeds tickle my feet. When I was a kid I was always afraid it was a snake or something. Now, I let myself enjoy the tickling feeling.
Mom kneels behind me. I hope the wood isn't hurting her knees.
"I saw what you did to Terry. Can you, can we, control people?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. Last night I imagined certain things and then they did it. Now, sitting here, I don't like the idea. I don't like it at all."
Mom wraps her arms around me. Her breasts are hot against my back.
"That's my baby girl. You shouldn't like the idea. It's a horrid thought." She releases me. "The answer is no, you can't control people even if you want to. You can feel what they want and point them in the right direction but you can't make anyone do something they do not want to do. Terry wanted to sleep. He's tired. I simply reminded him of that and let him know everything was okay; there was nothing going on he needed to worry about. So he went back to sleep. It was the same last night. You knew what Gary wanted to do and let him know it was fine to go ahead."
I don't bother to nod. She knows I understand. Besides, I hear the clippers buzz to life and touch the back of my neck. I lean my head forward. Now my head tickles, matching my feet. I can see minnows darted back and forth, nibbling between my toes. A lock of hair falls into the water and they scatter. There is just enough breeze to push the hair away from the shore. The minnows gather their courage and dart toward it. They sniff around, if that's the right word, and then return to feast on my feet.
Even being careful of the bandage it doesn't take long. Mom sweeps the hair aside and sits beside me, swirling her feet in the water.
"How's Haiti?"
"Beautiful and ugly. Joyous and sad. Easy to love and easy to despair of."
We sit side by side, swishing the water with our feet. I kick water over the clump of hair to break it up. The sun crawls upward over our shoulders and our shadows begin to drag themselves toward the shore. The air warms.
Mom stands. "Come on. If you sunburn your head Dr. Mallory will have your ass. And mine."
We walk hand-in-hand back to the house. Mom goes to my bedroom and right to the dressing supplies. I still don't see her luggage. It must be in Terry's room. That's fine. He doesn't spend much time there anyway.
She gently removes the bandage. I see her grimace as she catches site of the curved line of staples. She moistens a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide and dabs it along the incision, lets it sit for a minute and pats it dry with a second cotton ball. Ever the perfectionist, she uses her fingernails to retrieve a couple of strands of cotton that are stuck to the staples. Satisfied, she lays a new piece of gauze over the wound. I hold it with a couple of fingers while she secures it with fresh tape.
She brushes a few stray hairs off my shoulders. I stare at myself in the mirror, trying to decide if I like how my head looks. I think to myself, "I'm not Demi Moore but I'm not totally hideous either."
Mom smiles at me in the mirror. "No you're not hideous, sweetheart. You're beautiful."
This having your mind read is going to be hard to get used to.
She turns and I follow. We resume our seats at the table.
"Is what we've been doing wrong?" I ask, afraid of the answer.
Mom sighs and is silent for a long moment. "I told you I wasn't mad but I am worried. Is it wrong? From a biological standpoint the answer would have to be yes. It would certainly be wrong for you to have children with your brothers." She sighs and takes a moment to collect her thoughts. "Honey, most people would say unequivocally 'yes' that what the three of you are doing is wrong. That's a big part of my worry. I worry you are setting yourselves up for a lot of heartbreak. I worry about people judging you. I'm a mom. That's a big part of my job, worrying."
