Life's Too Short
Sometimes in life things happen that bring two people closer together. Much closer than either of them ever dreamed possible. Such is the case with this Mother and Son. I hope you enjoy my latest tale, and as always, comments, good or bad are welcome.
As we were ushered into the office I could tell by the look on Dr. Bernstein's face that the news wasn't good. Mom had been feeling light-headed lately and after a lot of coaxing from me had gone in to see our family physician. After a thorough exam he wasn't able to find anything out of the ordinary, so he had ordered some lab work done. A week later we were there to get the results.
"Mrs. Martin...Grace...I've received the results of your blood work..."
I could see the struggle on the old man's face as he tried to find the words. His eyes were glued to the folder on his desk, his lips compressed thin.
"For heaven's sake Lou, just spit it out," mom softly encouraged.
Dr. Bernstein gazed up from the folder and stared straight into mom's eyes. He squared his shoulders and said, "Leukemia. Advanced."
I watched as mom's face grew ashen, her body wilting into her chair as if all the air had been sucked from her body. The silence in the room lingered for some time before mom pulled herself together and gazed back at the doctor. After a few moments she spoke again, her voice strained.
"That's impossible! Other than being slightly dizzy occasionally I don't have a single symptom. Shouldn't I at least be showing some signs?"
"Normally, I would say yes, especially with how advanced your case is. But, there have been cases were the patient didn't exhibit symptoms until quite late. Granted, these are very rare cases, but it has happened," Dr. Bernstein explained.
Stiffening her back and sitting straight up, mom weakly asked, "So how advanced are we talking here?"
"Stage four," came the doctor's reply.
Mom slumped back in her chair as once more the wind seemed to be knocked from her body. I felt helpless, unable to think of anything to say that might help.
"I've already been in touch with Dr. Lee. He's one of the best oncologist in the state," Dr. Bernstein began.
"You're talking chemotherapy, radiation treatments, that sort of stuff," mom quizzed.
"Of course. We can get everything set up for you right away so there's no delay in getting treatment started," the doctor said.
Mom sat up in her chair, looked the doctor in the eyes and said, "Give it to me straight Lou. In your professional opinion what is the prognosis."
Dr. Bernstein squirmed in his chair, returned mom's firm gaze and answered, "Truthfully, given the advanced nature of the disease, not good. But with treatment we can prolong the progression."
"Thanks, but no thanks," mom said, standing and turning toward the door.
"Grace, be reasonable." Doctor Bernstein implored, standing too.
Mom turned around and with a sad smile said, "Lou, I've been a nurse for over twenty years, I've seen this before. If I'm going to die, then it's going to be on my terms."
Mom turned and went out the door without another word, leaving me sitting there in stunned disbelief. After what felt like hours, but was in actuality only a few seconds, I stood and headed toward the door. Doctor Bernstein reached across his desk, his hand landing on my forearm stopping me.
"Alan, see if you can talk some sense into your mother, maybe she'll listen to you," he said.
Without even looking at him I replied, "I'll try, but you know how stubborn she can be," then continued out of the building.
As I stepped out into the parking lot the bright afternoon sun forced me to pause long enough to put on my sunglasses. In the middle of the lot I saw mom leaning against my well-worn Jeep Cherokee, a cigarette in her hand, something she only did when stressed. I stood there briefly taking her in. The white billowy sundress she wore contrasted starkly against her bronzed-colored complexion, the result of her Mexican heritage. Unlike my mother I took after my father when it came to skin tone; he was as white as the stay-puff marshmallow man from Ghostbusters. That's not to say that I was "too" white, but I did need to make sure to apply sunscreen when I spent any length of time out in the sun. As I stared at her I couldn't help but feel a deep-seated fear. How could she be dying? At forty-three she was so full of life. I stood there a few seconds longer then made my way over to her.
Sometimes my mouth says things before my brain has a chance to tell me not to. That's what happened when I reached her.
"Those things will kill you," I said, instantly regretting my remark.
Mom shot me a pained look, threw her cigarette down, then climbed into the jeep without a word. As soon as I got in I feebly tried to apologize for my insensitive comment, but mom just told me to drive. The ride home was spent in total silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
Once we reached our house I no sooner had the jeep put in park than mom jumped out and ran inside. I followed shortly after, just in time to see her heading down the hallway with a bottle of wine in her hand. For some reason I jumped when I heard her bedroom door slam shut. Worried I followed.
Tapping lightly on her door I asked, "Mom, are you okay?" I immediately admonished myself for saying yet another stupid thing.
"I'm fine, I just need to be alone for now," I heard her reply through the door.
"Let me know if you need anything," I called out, but when I didn't get a reply I walked away.
As if in a trance I found myself in the kitchen staring into the refrigerator. There on the bottom shelf sat a six pack of long necked Buds. I pulled one out, popped the top, and took a seat on the couch in the front room. I was twenty-one, and given the circumstances, I was sure no one would begrudge me for indulging in a few beers. One turned into two, two into three, and so forth. By the time I was on the last bottle I was starting to get a good buzz going. It didn't help my mood though. All I did while sitting there was feel sorry for myself. We had lost dad to a boating accident just under two years ago, and now all my mind could dwell on was the fact that I was going to lose mom too. I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs that it wasn't fair, but who would listen. God? Yeah, right!
I don't know how long I sat there wallowing in my own self-pity before I fell asleep. All I know is that when I woke up mom had placed a blanket over me and cleaned up the empty bottles that I'd left on the coffee table. Glancing at the front window I noticed that it was dark outside. Needing some fresh air I made my way out the front door and stood in the driveway staring up at the heavens, my lungs drawing in the crisp night air. As I stared up at the stars I had an epiphany. Why in the hell was I feeling sorry for myself, I wasn't the one dying, mom was. I had to come to grips with that. I vowed right then and there that I would do everything in my power to make her remaining time the best it could be. I owed her nothing less. Taking one last look at the twinkling stars I went inside and climbed into bed, my heart not as heavy as before.
Daylight filtered in through my bedroom window as I rose and prepared myself for the day. Throwing on some jeans and a t-shirt I stepped out into the hall and glanced over at mom's bedroom door. It was closed. Usually it was open if she were up, so I emptied my bladder and headed to the kitchen. I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast the day before, so I proceeded to fry up some bacon and eggs. Once finished I placed some on a plate and carried it down to mom's room. I thought I'd surprise her with breakfast in bed. When I reached her room I tapped softly on the door but got no response. I tapped a little harder with the same results.
"Mom?" I called out.
Getting no answer I started to worry. Reaching out with my free hand I grabbed the doorknob and twisted; it turned easily in my hand. Gently I opened the door enough that I could see into the room. There on her bed was mom. She was still wearing her sundress and was curled into a fetal position, a blanket covering her from her hips down. On the bed next to her was an empty bottle of wine, and on the floor next to the bed lay what looked like a photo album, one I didn't remember ever seeing.
"Mom?" I called out again.
Getting no answer I stepped into the room and placed her breakfast on her nightstand. For several minutes I just stood there watching her sleep, she looked so peaceful. I decided to let her sleep, so I left her plate where it was and gently pulled her blanket up around her shoulders. As I was turning to leave my foot kicked the photo album on the floor. I picked it up and was about to place it on the bed but changed my mind. I turned it over in my hands staring at the rich leather binding. I definitely knew I'd never seen it before. Without thinking I tucked it under my arm, softly closed her door and returned to the kitchen to eat. After I finished I rinsed my plate off and put it in the dishwasher, as I was about to step away I spied the photo album sitting on the counter where I had put it. Thinking it would be cool to see what was in it I took it with me and sat back down at the dining table. When I opened the cover a smile spread across my lips.
The first page held a photograph yellowing with age. It showed mom and dad leaning against an old car, smiles beaming brightly on their faces. They looked so young. I ran my fingertips gently over the picture before turning the page. The next page held a photo, also yellowing with age, that had my jaw hanging open and my breath catching in my throat.
It showed mom sitting on the same old car, another huge smile on her face as the wind blew her hair about her head. It was a great picture of her, but the only problem was she was topless. She had her arms crossed under her breast which caused them to be pushed up. I could clearly see her eraser-sized nipples were hard, as if she were enjoying having her picture taken. With a gulp I turned the page only to see a picture of my father coming out of a pool completely naked, his cock fully erect, the pubic hair around it shaved off.
"Looks like we have something in common, Dad," I chuckled. I too like to keep my pubs trimmed close.
On the same page was a photo of mom coming out of what obviously was the same pool, she too was naked. She had that same beguiling smile as her other picture, but this one showed all of her body. I felt heat rise on my face as I took in her youthful figure, from her perfectly shaped breasts with quarter-sized areolas, a rich brown in color, to the well-manicured black bush between her toned thighs. I must have gulped ten times before I finally forced myself to turn the page.
The next couple of pages were photos of places. A lake somewhere, what looked like a picture of Niagara Falls, and one outside of a cabin in the woods. I assumed they were from places my parents had visited. The next page had an airline ticket taped to it. I read the destination. Bermuda. I wondered if this was where they had taken their honeymoon. I'd never heard them talk about it, so I assumed it was possible, the date on the ticket was at the right time anyway. Turning the page I noticed how the photos had become sharper, their image crisper in detail, most likely from a digital camera I assumed. I could actually make out the way mom's areolas crinkled as she shyly looked into the camera, a sultry pout on her full lips. Absently I reached down and rearranged my stiffening cock in my jeans.
The next page showed mom under what had to be a dining table with a floor-length table cloth, her smoldering brown eyes staring defiantly into the camera, her lips wrapped around what I assumed was dad's cock. The swelling in my jeans increased forcing me to swiftly close the album and push it away, fearful of what else I might see in it. I could understand why I'd never seen it before. Just as I leaned back in my chair mom walked in carrying her breakfast plate. She placed it on the counter near the sink then proceeded to fix herself a cup of coffee. I could see she hadn't eaten any of it. When she finally turned around her eyes landed on me for a brief moment before she spotted the photo album sitting on the table.
"Oh my God! What is this doing out here?" she squealed, rushing over and snatching the album from the table.
