Cellophane

I was born with a superpower. I am invisible, but only to people I'm related to. I was number five out of six children. I have three brothers and two sisters. My younger sister was born 10 months after I was, so I didn't even get a stint as 'the baby.' My three brothers are all older, so I lived on hand-me-downs. My birthday is also Christmas Day, so I was 22 years old before I heard someone utter 'happy birthday' to me.

I'm not going to pretend I was neglected or abused. I always had enough food and three brothers meant I always had clothes. I was just forgotten. The van seated seven, so when they went to the fair or for ice cream, I was inevitably the one left behind. I was used to it and every once in a while, they'd bring me back something.

If one of my parents needed my attention, I'd hear three other names before eventually, "Hunter" passed on of their lips. It was the same for most things. I never expected to see a familiar face when I had a match. I learned quickly to make friends with the other kids on the team to ensure a ride home since practice meant staying after the buses had gone.

It worked both ways. They didn't notice the 4.0 or the academic decathlon trophy, but they also didn't notice if I was five hours past curfew. They didn't notice the year I went punk or the year I started working at Miller's market.

My siblings all worked at the diner. My mother had bought it after a 2-million-dollar lottery win, turning her from waitress to owner. She'd bought that and the house before the rest was put into five college funds, just after I was born... want to guess who got number five? Yep, little Ashley, my younger sister.

I'd figured out that was how it was going to go years before. I'd left the day after my matriculation. They hadn't come of course. I'm sure they had five other places to be that night. I packed my stuff (well a backpack and a duffel anyway) and boarded a greyhound for the capital. I'd secured a scholarship, and I was used to working, so I made it through undergrad just fine.

My master's was a bit harder. It took me an extra two years as I had to work around a full-time job and a part-time one, but eventually I got my degree and all the certifications necessary to become a Physician's assistant. I'd been working for a couple of years when I saw a job opening at a clinic about twenty miles from my hometown. I applied and got it and that had brought me to the day in question.

I was driving past my hometown. I hadn't been back since I left. I didn't make it back to my father's funeral because they forgot to tell me he died till I spoke to Ashley two months after the fact. My eldest brother Nick informed me of my mother's remarriage when he called to borrow money (oddly that was the only time any of my family could see me... when they wanted money.) The divorce that followed was back to Ashley again when she was looking for a place to stay because Mom had signed the house over to her new husband and a month later caught him cheating... with Ashley. Mom had apparently gotten an apartment close to the diner, but refused to take Ashley in.

On a whim, I decided to drive through town instead of around it. As if directed by god, I found myself parking in front of the diner. It had been old when Mom had bought it. From back when cable car design was all the rage, but it had been well maintained when I last saw it. It was a bit worse for that day. The paint on the exterior was peeling. One of the bay windows had a hole in it and a piece of plywood blocking it. The giant turning sign that said, "Haven Hills Diner" didn't seem to turn anymore.

I stared at it for a good twenty minutes before I got out and headed for the door. They added a short wooden ramp in place of the creaking old steps. I entered and the inside was better, though vacant. I saw a cook in the back and mom working the till and the room. An elderly couple sat in the corner sipping coffee and my gym teacher was trying out a plate of pork n' beans.

I went towards the counter and sat on the stool. I don't know why, but I expected her to hug me and ask about the years betwixt and between our meetings, that didn't happen of course. Instead, my mother walked up to me, smiled, and asked, "What'll it be, cutie?"

"Is it too late for bacon and eggs? Boiled?"

She glanced about the room, "Sure. Comes with toast and hash browns."

"Sounds perfect...." I was tempted to add, "Mom", but something stopped me. I was so invisible, so forgotten that she didn't even seem to recognize me.

"Drink?"

"Coffee... black."

"Coming right up." She turned and grabbed a mug off a peg board and poured coffee I wasn't sure had been made this week in it, then put the ticket on the spinner. She then screamed out, "Pig on Board, Spike on an oval, and drown the kids." And giggled to herself.

She'd always been fond of the diner lingo, even though it had been out of use for decades before she started working here, much less bought the place. That was even true for the rare times she cooked at home. Most of the time she'd just bring home meals cooked here, but she'd cook on her days off and scream out the lingo version of the name when she served it up.

She wandered to check on the customers and I checked my phone. I glanced at my siblings' text messages. Nick's last text was a year ago asking for a 'quick grand' to pay some bills. Clarence was four years ago. Charlotte was just after I'd gotten my own phone line. Sammy was two years ago cause he needed a 50 for gas. Ashley hadn't texted me back since I told her she couldn't stay in my studio when Mom kicked her out. I realized I didn't have any from Mom or Dad. Just the two initial texts I'd sent with my new number and no response. I was curious if they'd even known I was gone.

I ran through my e-mail and texts and double checked the map while reminiscing about the summer when I was 12 and decided that rather than sharing a room with my three brothers I'd move into a tent in the backyard. Nobody had mentioned it till November when Clarence had wanted the tent to go to a music festival and had asked why it was set up in the backyard.

My mother returned and filled up my coffee with more week-old sludge. I didn't look up initially, rather just muttering a "Thank you, Ma'am."

I was taken aback when she ran the back of her hand down my arm. I looked up, "You look familiar, handsome. Did you grow up around here?" I know some waiters/waitresses used physical contact and a tiny bit of flirting to increase the tips, but that was not something my mother had ever done. Then it occurred to me that maybe she had figured it out.

"Yeah. I lived here till I graduated. Packed up and left the day after my family didn't show up at the ceremony."

She gave me a soft smile, "I thought you looked familiar. You must be the Owens' boy. I think they're about the only family that would miss one of their kid's graduations."

"Did you go to all of yours?"

She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt, "Oh, of course." I couldn't help glancing down at the newly exposed cleavage. She giggled, "Thought you might like the better view."

I was a bit taken aback, "Are you flirting with me?"

"Am I not being subtle enough?"

"I... are you sure you don't remember me?"

"Sorry... you do look like my ex-husband though. What is your name?"

"You can call me Griffin till you remember."

"Going to make me guess?"

"I think that would be best. I spent quite a bit of time in your house when your boys were younger."

"So, you must've had a huge crush on me. If you stick around an hour, you can live out those fantasies."

From the back, I heard, "Order up."

She spun on her heels and grabbed the plate before spinning back to me.

"Thank you, ma'am. Why in an hour?"

"Oh, that's when my daughter, Charlotte comes on and I'm off shift."

"Do you live nearby?"

That caused her to pause for just a moment, "You didn't assume I still lived in the old house."

"Lucky guess, I suppose." I picked up the knife and spoon and cracked and deshelled my eggs with even pressure and some quick vertical strokes.

She reached out and rubbed my arm again, "You know my youngest does that the same way."

"Ash?"

"You know her?"

"We haven't spoken in a few years."

"I'll be back."

She made her rounds again and I ate my food. There was a pit of anger growing in my gut. I'd always known I was invisible. I was the one that could just be forgotten, but that my mother could have a conversation with me... that she could hit on me, proposition me and still not realize I was her son was just this growing mass of blackness and discomfort.

In spite of all that, the food tasted like home. She hadn't made them herself, but these were the exact hashbrowns I was raised on. The bacon was the same exact degree of crispy at the end and rubber in the center as it was when I was six. The eggs were just over soft boiled so biting into them left a bit of runny yoke running down my chin.

I'd worked at Miller's Grocer for my actual job, but before that I'd been forced to pitch in here when they didn't have a kid or employee for an afternoon shift. I'd spent my share of afternoons stocking the napkin dispensers, frying burgers in the back, or ferrying plates out to my friends and the kind of asshole classmates that snickered behind your back after they sent their food back or tried to pretend you'd messed up their order.

I grabbed a napkin from one of those dispensers to wipe my chin before eating my toast. It was dry, just the butter from the griddle on it. My mother had never gotten those little packets of jam or jelly and instead kept a few squeeze bottle in a minifridge below the counter... available on request.

While I was engrossed in memories, I felt a hand on my thigh reaching around me from behind, I spun on the stool out of surprise and saw my mother standing there. Her smile was sleek and thin; laced with something devious. She put her hand back down on my thigh and moved it over to my crotch and I felt my body betray my own sensibilities, "So, about that offer?"

I ground my lower lip between my teeth and the words came unbidden, "Yeah. I'll give you something you won't forget." And that was where it came from. It wasn't attraction. It wasn't some yearning for maternal love that rarely landed on me when they were five other recipients. That black, squirmy discomfort just wanted to make sure that she fucking remembered me.

"It's a date. Would you like a slice of pie? On the house?"

"Isn't that what you just offered?"

She laughed in a manner I'd never heard her laugh before. It was genuine and carefree, not a hint of fakeness or having shoved the real whimsy down, just free laughter. "We have blackberry, blueberry, and loganberry today. Ran out of apple earlier. You can eat it while you wait on the hair pie to be free from the oven."

"Loganberry."

"Ice cream?"

"No. Thank you ma'am."

She moved back over and around the counter and pulled a slice from the plexiglass cabinet on the end of the counter and popped it in the microwave next to the door to the kitchen. A minute later and she set the slice of pie in front of me. I offered a thank you and reveled in the tartness. I ate the pie and nursed the week-old sludge while I waited. I was part way through my third cup when I heard the jingling of the bell above the door and I looked up and watched my mother's face as delight washed over it.

I glanced over my shoulder at the source of her delight and the sound and saw my older sister, Charlotte. She was a but plumper than I remember and had added some heavy press-on nails to her wardrobe. Mom speedwalked around the counter to hug her. I briefly wondered if the jig was up as the two whispered for a bit and my mother pointed to me.

Instead, Charlotte went to the bathroom at the far end of the counter and came back out. She grabbed an apron off the wall and walked over to me and took my plate, "So, my mom is going to take you to tour her apartment."

I looked up the black squirmy thing growing a bit, "Yeah, she is."

She looked me up and down and smiled, "If she says you're good enough I might offer you a tour too."

"I seem to recall you got married Charlie." She had in fact gotten married. I'd found out when she texted me asking where her wedding gift was. I'd responded asking "What wedding?" and she'd never texted me back... I assume she realized she'd forgotten to send me an invite.

"Oh, I am, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him and Mom doesn't pick out a guy to offer a tour too very often, so you must have something going for you. So, did we go to school together? Can't really place the face."

"You were a couple grades ahead of me."

"Mom said you were called 'Griffin."

"No, I just said she could call me that till she remembered who I am."

"And do I get to call you Griffin too? Or are you going to tell me who you are?"

"You can call me cellophane. It should have been my name."

She laughed and snorted the same way she always had, "Oh, I love musicals."

"I know. You always did."

My mother had stepped around the counter again and gave me a 'come hither' look. I stood and put some money on the counter. Then took her hand as she led me out the door and around the building. From there it was down a block into what used to be a motel. A friend I'd went to high school with had mentioned they'd been converted to apartments. My mother's was on the second floor; 219.

She slid the key in and led me in, "Have to pee first." She disappeared past what I presumed was the bedroom door and I took in my mother's new apartment. It was small. I guessed they'd combined two of the motel rooms into each apartment. There was a tiny kitchenette and a couch, a single shelf with a small television. One wall had family photos and I was compelled to take them in.

It was a timeline of the family; my parents' wedding, Nick's first photo with Santa, Clarence in a football uniform, the diner's grand reopening, one of each set of grandparents, Charlotte's wedding (apparently, she'd married Kyle. I'd gone to school with him and broken his nose after he'd goosed Ashley. He never gotten the nose reset), Sammy in dress blues with a sword raised, one of Ashley's birthday parties, a trip to Disneyland or Disney World after I left with the whole gang I'd never even known happened, and lastly a photo of the entire family in front of the old house. The entire family except for me. I' d been asked to take the photo.

I was staring. The lack of photos of me removing one more roadblock to what was going to happen. My mother appeared before me, "Do you want me to open a bottle of wine?"

"Are these all your kids?"

"Yeah, my whole family. Everyone I care about... I'm not... I'm not looking for a boyfriend if that is what you're thinking. I don't go for that after my second husband."

"Just a one-shot deal. That's fine. I just want to ensure it is unforgettable."

She smiled sincerely, "Wine?"

"Go ahead if you want, I'll have to drive. Have you figured out my name yet?"

"No, but Griffin still works."

She walked into the kitchenette and returned with a bottle of water, a bottle of wine, and a glass. She poured a glass and guzzled the first one, "Liquid courage? With how forward you were I'd have figured you'd have done this often enough that you weren't nervous."

She scoffed blowing a few bubbles in her glass in the process, "I'm not a slut. I usually use an app. Charlie set up for me."

"So, why me?"

She guzzled half the second glass she poured, took a breath, and then looked at me as if she were still deciding what to say, "I.... You look like my ex-husband. My first one." That made me chuckle, but it was a dark chuckle, and she realized that, "What's wrong?" The concern in her voice was reminiscent of her standing over my hospital bed when I'd broken my arm falling from the water tower. I'd been certain she cared till it took her four tries to get my name right.

"Are you really sure you don't know who I am? You don't remember me?"

She sipped at the third glass of wine and then said, "No. My boys had a lot of friends. I'm sorry, but I can't remember your name."

I sat down on the couch next to her and pulled the wine glass from her fingers and set it on next to the wine bottle and leaned in and kissed her. It took her another second to reciprocate. Before that moment I would have expected kissing my mother to feel awkward, but it just felt like kissing any other stranger. A hint of a spark, but that twisty feeling in my gut urged me on. At the first break for air, I asked, "Bedroom?"

She nodded and I stood grasping her hand and led her the seven steps into her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes as we got into the bedroom. Another moment and we were on the bed with my tongue battling hers. Spurred on by the twist black I had only one goal, so in turn I worked her shirt off and her bra hit the bed seconds later. My mother wasn't a slender woman and her breasts were a bit oversized for her frame even considering that. It was the reason neither I, nor Ashley was breast fed. I fought the urge to suckle, I wouldn't be that kind of cliché and began working my hands lower.

Her breathing rate had spiked and I could feel her pulse with my every touch. She raised and leaned into every bit of contact I made with her skin. It had been a lot longer than she was letting on as I'd rarely had a partner this receptive. Enthusiastic and loving sure, but she was acting like my every touch was the very hand of god.

A few moments pass and I've managed to get my hand under her hose and she came loudly. She held out her hand to stop me as I moved to continue exploring. I'd barely touched her; I was still uncertain if it had just been ages since she was touched or if we were somehow far more compatible than we should've been. I stood and removed my clothes, giving her a moment to recover before taking the time to slip the skirt off her. She took in my body and I briefly wondered if she'd recognize the appendix scar or the honeybee tattoo, I'd gotten when I got my first fake ID, instead she just whispered, "More."

I briefly considered going for a condom, but decided it was worth the risk. I was done wasting time and tore the panty hose before putting myself into position and locking my lips with her own. A bit of gentle pressure and I was a motherfucker... and a part of me would find it funny every time someone called me that again. That pressure was the only thing that was gentle. She'd already cum and I didn't really care if she enjoyed herself, just that she remembered it, so I offered unyielding force. She matched it backing her hips up at each thrust till eventually we hit a shared peak and I filled her with my essence.

We lay there for a few moments, not so much in afterglow. There was none of the shared emotion I'd had with any of my S.O.s This was just catching my breath. She eventually stood and slipped into the bathroom. I stood and got dressed. I saw a landline on the bedside table and a message pad next to it. Old habits die hard I suppose. I grabbed it up and jotted down, "It was nice seeing you, Mom." And set the note in the center of the bed. I could hear the shower running as I let myself out. I slipped down the steps and headed up the block and towards the car. Eventually I heard behind me, "Nick! I mean Clarence! I mean Sammy!" If she managed to find the right name, it was after I was out of earshot. I got in my car and headed onto my new job. I headed for somewhere I would be remembered.