All characters are at least 18 years old.
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There was a stranger in my house.
I don't know when it happened, and I had no idea what to do about it. He was tall. He was smart. He was confident.
But somewhere along the way, my son had begun to turn into a different person.
The woman on the computer screen moaned louder. I was standing at my son's desk, transfixed as a porn video played on his desktop. His computer had woken itself up when a download had completed, and I suppose the file had opened itself. Now, there was nothing wrong with him viewing things like this. Honestly it would be concerning if he weren't expressing interest. But the thing that was screaming at me, searing into my mind with gut-wrenching clarity, was the title: "Mom and son's secret weekend."
"Mom?"
My hand on the mouse went into a frenzy as I scrambled to pause the video, mute it, something. I ended up closing the whole window before gathering myself and turning around.
"Drew!" I said with false cheer, slightly panting. "You're back early!"
"Yeah. I am." His tall figure filled the doorway as he stared me down, short dirty blond hair wild as ever. I could've kicked myself. The vacuum cleaner sitting inert next to me had seemed to amplify the earlier sounds of sex with its silence. What kind of backwards universe were we in that the child caught the parent watching porn?
"I was just..." I waved my hands helplessly at the vacuum, then at his computer, and finally fluttered them about vaguely. And I giggled. Lord almighty, just kill me now.
"So I see." He averted his gaze and swallowed. It occurred to me that he must be as embarrassed as I was. I had just caught him watching this video as much as he had caught me. Somehow that made me feel worse. Who knew what was going through his head right now?
"I'll... uh... I'll just be..." I tugged the vacuum toward his door and was stopped short by the plug still in the socket. Muttering under my breath, I unplugged the machine and shuffled out of his room, Drew standing aside to allow passage. I was... What was the word? *Mortified*. Yes, that's it. I stowed the vacuum cleaner and heard his door close, then let out a shaky breath.
Perhaps it was the first time he'd watched such a video. Perhaps he'd downloaded it by accident. Perhaps a friend had sent him the file. Perhaps he was ignoring the taboo aspect of it.
Perhaps pigs could fly.
I shook my head as I walked to the kitchen to begin cooking dinner. Surely, *surely*, he hadn't intended on pleasuring himself to that video. Not my boy. I'd raised him... How had I raised him? "Alone" seemed the first word to come to mind, selfish as it was. Not entirely alone, I admitted. My own parents had been a world of help during the first few years I was getting on my feet.
But was this the result of Drew not having a father figure in his life? After what had happened all those years ago, I couldn't bear the thought of meeting another man. In fact it had never even crossed my mind, I mused as I readied a casserole.
With crystal clarity, the image of the woman in the porno being ravaged by her "son" invaded my thoughts. She wasn't some skinny teen with a boob job. I believe she would be called a MILF, or something like that. Having a teenage son lets one pick up modern slang whether one wanted to or not. I used to hear him chatting with his best friend Stefan when they played video games together, and things like that would pop up. Asking Jazz at work about their meanings would always leave me blushing.
I left the casserole in the oven and went to my room to change and freshen up. I was just in my ensuite splashing water on my face to calm myself when the sink went. With a ping, the handle rocketed off the faucet and cracked the mirror, and I screamed. Water began spraying everywhere, and in seconds I was drenched. Forcing my palm over the opening only exasperated the water pressure.
Hearing my scream, Drew came running in. "What's going on?" he asked, voice full of worry before he saw the apparent problem. "Aw, shit." He pulled me out of the bathroom and began looking under the sink for some way to shut the water off. It was incredible how quickly my bedroom was filling with water, soaking into the carpet.
It was the start of winter and already the water was frigid. I considered stripping out of my clothes to warm up, but Drew was right there, hopelessly staring at pipes he didn't understand. He got up and rushed back into his room, and I took the chance to peel my shirt off before starting to work on my leggings. I looked back at my bathroom and realized in dismay that the water was ricocheting off the door and straight onto my bed, for long enough that the mattress was already soaked through in several places.
Drew rushed back in with his phone and I covered myself while he watched a tutorial on YouTube. He stopped short when he saw me in my underwear, his gaze taking the scenic route down the length of my body. After an uncomfortable moment of me beginning to squirm he seemed to compose himself, and he cleared his throat. "Alright, mom, hold this," he said as he handed his phone to me, then dove back under the sink and began twisting knobs. Finally the water shut off, and it was quiet again, save for the sound of dripping water. Naturally it was too late, the water had soaked into most of the carpet between the bathroom and bed.
Drew picked up the faucet handle and struggled to screw it back into the tap, eventually giving up. He came back out and moved to take his phone back before remembering I was in my underwear. I covered up and tentatively returned the device. Could this day get any worse?
"Mom, you're not sleeping in here," he decided.
I looked dubiously at my bed, the blanket darkened with water. "It's okay, I just need to change the sheets--"
He walked over and pulled the fitted sheet off, then pressed his hand into the mattress. The damn thing actually squished. I winced and looked at the floor miserably. "That's probably gonna take all night to dry," he sighed.
"Well..." I couldn't keep from sounding glum. "At least the couch is comfortable."
"Don't be ridiculous," he barked. "You're not sleeping on the freaking couch. Take my bed, I'll take the couch."
