"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.
"I found it on your floor when I brought in your breakfast," I explained.
"Did you look inside?" she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.
"Just a few pages," I replied.
Her eyes slowly closed, and I could see a blush of color rise on her face.
"I'm so embarrassed," she whispered, then took off for her room leaving me sitting there, slightly hard, and deeply ashamed for invading her privacy.
I was torn between running after her and apologizing, to just sitting here and giving her space. I opted for the second choice, hoping it would give her time to realize I hadn't known the album contained such personal pictures. Once I'd finished my coffee I decided to go for a drive; that always cleared my head.
Just cruising around town did clear my thoughts. It allowed me to put things into perspective. I had just graduated collage with a degree in electrical engineering and was already being offered employment from several large companies in town. I had flown through my courses because dad, who was a journeyman electrician, had taught me all he knew while I was growing up. I used to cherish the times he would take me with him on some of his jobs. A smile played on my lips as I recalled how patient he had been with me. Just as fast as the smile appeared, it disappeared. Dad was gone, and now I was going to lose mom too. And just like that I was once more wallowing in my own self-pity.
"Get a grip on yourself, you big pussy!" I growled.
Swinging the wheel hard left I zipped into the parking lot of Trader Joes. I knew I couldn't help mom medically, but I could do something nice to help cheer her up. By the time I walked out of the store I had all the things I needed to make one of her favorite meals, not to mention a couple of bottles of wine and a twelve pack of beer for myself. I was actually feeling upbeat by the time I reached home. Mom was nowhere in sight, so I put the groceries away and headed toward her room.
I made my way down the hall and as I approached her bedroom I noticed her door was cracked open. After tapping on it and getting no reply I slowly pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was empty, but I could hear her shower running in the en-suite bathroom. Hesitantly I stepped toward the sound of running water. The door to her bathroom was opened about two inches allowing me to see the sink and the mirror above it. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes settled on the mirror. Mom was in the shower washing her hair, her hands above her head lathering up the shampoo, her torso completely exposed to my astonished eyes. Each time her hands worked the shampoo in her breast would jiggle. I was rooted to the spot, unable to tear my eyes away from her. Trance-like I watched her brown areolas tighten as the water cascaded down her body, the suds of her shampoo converging at her trimmed bush only to slowly drop to the shower floor. Suddenly I saw her eyes open wide. The realization quickly hit me that if I could see her, then she could see me. Panic swept over me, and I stumbled backwards and made a hasty retreat, stopping only when I reached the relative safety of the front room.
I had no sooner sat on the couch than mom came walking in. Her hair was bundled under a towel, her body wrapped comfortably in her plush terry-clothed robe. She stopped at the end of the couch and gazed down at me. It was evident by the look in her eyes that she had something on her mind.
"Were you just in my room?" she asked, her eyes staring directly into mine, as if daring me to deny it.
"Yes. I didn't see you out here, so I went in there to see if you were okay," I replied.
"I'm alright," she stated unconvincingly, then headed into the kitchen.
