It was ten o'clock on Saturday morning before Ethan opened his eyes. He had two hours before he needed to be at work as a tutor at the library. Still in the shorts and t-shirt he fell asleep in, he padded down the hallway to the small kitchen. On the way he stopped at his mother's bedroom and checked on her. She worked second shift at the hospital and sometimes she worked third as well, as they struggled to make ends meet. Even a modest apartment in the city commanded a steep rent. Until recently, Ethan thought his father had abandoned them when he was five. He found out the truth that man Ethan thought of as his father was actually his step-father. His biological father remained shrouded in mystery and his mother hadn't shared any of the details.
Ethan surveyed his mother's sleeping form. She was still dressed in the burgundy scrubs of the hospital, wrapped up in the comforter, on top of the blankets. He deduced she had worked a double and had only been asleep for a couple hours. Ethan gently sat on the edge of the bed and untied her shoes, slipping them off her feet. Then he rearranged the comforter and quietly left her sleeping. Ethan started a pot of coffee and opened the apartment's one window that looked out on the street several floors below. The day was gray, windy and wet. Perfect late fall weather. Ethan didn't mind. One of the changes that had recently taken place was his ability to handle the chill that kept everyone else bundled up tightly. Ethan watched the city until he heard the gurgling sound that told him the coffee was finished brewing. He poured a cup of bodega coffee and returned to watch the city in its muted mode.
Across the street, the windows of the apartments were either dark or glowing yellow. When Ethan's gaze landed on a glowing window, he could sense something of the occupants. His focus was becoming like a radio dial, tuning in distant stations. Ethan would have thought it strange, except for all of the other strange things that had occurred since he attempted to intervene on behalf of an old man in an alleyway. The more Ethan focused on a window, the more he could detect going on beyond. He discovered children fighting over which cartoons to watch, young couples in the throes of morning intercourse, an older couple moving silently through a routine practiced for decades. Ethan blushed at the sexual voyeurism and turned his attention down to the street. By concentrating on the passers-by, he could get a sense of what they were thinking and feeling. One of the pedestrians was upset. She had lost her favorite aunt and was suffering. Ethan wished that she would remember only the good things about her aunt and for her pain to fade. In a few steps he saw her chin raise and what looked like a wry smile cross her face.
Ethan played with this new ability, reading people and offering hope and compassion when he could. He stopped when his temples hurt from the constant strain. Ethan drained his coffee and another cup, thinking of nothing in particular except Alexa. She was the focus of his world. His tryst with Becky Hearn was necessary. It had cleared his mind and cleared his lust. It was unlikely to be repeated. Like so many of the occurrences lately, Ethan resigned himself to being manipulated by powerful forces he did not yet understand. Sex with Becky, though entirely enjoyable, was for the purpose of getting her pregnant with Ethan's first child, a daughter.
With an hour left to shower, dress and make his way to the city library, Ethan put his coffee cup in the sink and went to his room. He stripped naked and grabbed some of the clothes he intended to wear to work as a tutor. He walked down the hallway and as he reached to the bathroom his mother's bedroom door opened and she walked out. She saw her naked son standing in the hallway and only paused a moment, her eyes scanning his teenage form, before she brushed passed him into the bathroom.
"Got to go, you are going to have to wait, honey," she mumbled by way of apology.
Ethan froze in his tracks. Did his mother really just check him out? Why did he strip before going to the bathroom? He never did that. Many confused thoughts were rushing around in his head when the door opened and his mother stepped out, having finished her urgent business.
"It's all yours Ethan," she said with a smile. This time she did check him out, admiring his shoulders, his forming pecs, his flat stomach; letting her eyes linger on his organ for just a moment. Ethan felt a flush of her desire and his cock twitched, breaking her daydream. As she crossed to her bedroom he thought he heard her say something like "He sure is growing up." But she might have thought that, Ethan wasn't sure.
Ethan entered the bathroom and started the shower, thinking about his mother and how she had given him that look. Twenty minutes later he was showered and shaved. He stood in front of the steamy mirror, dropping his towel from his waste. While he brushed and combed, he let his eyes wander over his reflection, much like his mother did. "I really am taller," he thought to himself. "And my cock IS bigger." He also noted his legs look stronger as did his arms and shoulders. Ethan's eyes landed on his new birthmark. He set down the comb and touched the birthmark with his left forefinger. Ethan felt dizzy. The mist on the mirror began to move. The room reflected in the mirror and Ethan could see something brown and distant where the wall used to be. He leaned in, trying to get a better look. When his forehead struck the mirror, Ethan came back to the present. In the mirror his image was mocking him with a wry smile. He had to laugh at himself.
He left the bathroom better dressed than he entered and walked the short distance to his bedroom to finish dressing. One the way out of the apartment he paused at his mother's door. There was an impression emanating from the other side of the door. Ethan thought twice about opening it and disturbing what Ethan was certain was an active pleasure fantasy on the other side. Without looking on the other side of the door, Ethan was certain his mother was masturbating. He also knew she was masturbating to the thought of his nude form. Ethan never thought of his mother as a sexual creature with base desires before. Instead of being horrified, he was glad to find she was getting her well-deserved release. He smiled and wished her the best orgasms ever. Before he reached the front door of the apartment, Ethan heard her muffled cries as she succumbed to the pleasant sensations, not hearing her mumble his father's name.
Ethan ran all the way to work. He chose to run down the streets, weaving in and out of traffic. The traffic was light and Ethan could sense what every nearby vehicle was going to do with more than enough time to react and alter course. There were several intersections where Ethan's running speed out-paced the traffic. Ethan made fast progress downtown, beating the light traffic.
At the library, Mrs. Altuvia crooked her finger to have Ethan follow her into room behind the circulation desk. The room was large, and filled with the desks of seven librarians, carts of books, stacks of references, and shelves on every wall stuffed with books new and old.
"I've been reading quite a bit about your ability to spontaneously speak and think in Spanish. I was quite surprise that it's not unprecedented. After severe trauma, there have been dozens of documented cases of people suddenly becoming fluent in different languages and skills. It's as if the brain is unlocked or hyper-charged," she explained.
"Do you think it's permanent?" Ethan asked.
"I didn't read about any of the skills being temporary."
"That's good. Because now I can, well, not really read minds, but I can tune in people and get an understanding of what they are thinking or feeling," he admitted.
"Extra Sensory Perception has been a scientific theory for many decades. There have been many university and government studies into ESP, including some that were dangerous involving hallucinogenic drugs and sensory deprivation. Those studies ended up with some subjects going mad and having permanent brain damage."
"Do you think I might be going mad or have some kind of brain damage?" Ethan asked, suddenly concerned.
"No Ethan, I don't think so. If anything, I think it's more likely that the trauma you suffered awakened natural talents," she said reassuringly. "If you had brain damage or madness, I think your first symptom would have been a change in your personality. You still have such a good heart, you haven't changed. Except to be nicer and kinder, if that is possible."
"There is one other thing," he admitted, moving his head closer to her. "I've been, um, this is embarrassing. It's just that I've been, uh really I don't know how to say this..."
"Are you trying to say you have been having sex?" she asked suppressing a smile.
Ethan nodded.
"Welcome to growing up, Ethan. It happens to the best of us. It was bound to happen to you too, eventually." She patted him on the shoulder and gave his arm a rub. Ethan could tell she was checking out his developing muscles and giving him a once over in her mind. She revealed a little of her youthful wildness in those thoughts. Ethan was impressed by how much the steady-minded research librarian had experienced during the freewheeling seventies and eighties. It was Ethan's turn to smile as he left the shared office area and headed upstairs to begin his tutoring sessions.
The first girl to arrive at the door was a pre-teen who was guided in by her mother. She was a pretty girl, but she kept her eyes down and didn't look Ethan in the eye. Her mother put her in the chair to Ethan's right and she sat in a chair in the corner.
"Hi there, my name is Ethan. What's yours?" The girl didn't respond, she just kept her head down and her hands in her lap.
"Layla, be polite. Answer the teacher," scolded her mother.
Ethan gave the mother a good look. She was a bottle blonde in platinum. She dressed too young for her actual age, as if she were desperate to keep her youth. Worry lines broke up the smoothness of her facial skin. Her nails were fake, her breasts were fake and her tan was fake. Her jewels were real though, of that Ethan was certain.
"Hello Layla, I'm glad to meet you. If give me a chance, you'll find I am a pretty good tutor." His words seemed to ease her apprehension.
"It's nice to meet you, Ethan," she mumbled. Her chin raised a fraction and she looked towards Ethan's part of the table they shared, not yet meeting his gaze.
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Now what subject do you need help in?" he asked quietly.
"She needs help in all of her subjects," interrupted her mother. "I just don't understand it, until this year she was always an excellent student. But sixth grade has been different."
