Helen's divorce had hit her hard. The court papers had come in the mail and she now just sat in her room staring out the bay window. Her twenty year old son, Tim, asked if she was okay. All she had said was she would get by. At his age, it didn't sound very reassuring. To make matters worse, Helen's new ex, Allen, was supposed to stop by to gather up the things that the court decree granted him that he hadn't already taken from the house. Sometimes Tim thought he left some of this stuff behind just so he could had an excuse to come back one more time and hassle Helen. When things went sour between them, Allen had turned into a real bastard.
To a twenty year old, like Tim, it was crazy to ditch a woman who was as loving and giving as his mom was. Especially when she looks as good as Helen did. He guessed his dad didn't know what a good thing he'd had. Then again, they hadn't done their fighting in front of him, so he didn't know all the shit that went wrong.
Neither Helen nor Tim had felt much like having dinner, so they just sat, lost in their own thoughts, waiting for Allen to show up, get his stuff and clear out. Helen waited in her room and Tim stared out the living room window. As the sky darkened, he began to nod off.
He woke to the sound of someone pounding on the front door. Getting to his feet, he headed for the door. Helen came down just as he was getting to the door. Her eyes were red and her face had that puffy look that betrayed her crying in her room. She backed up to the bottom of the stairs and said, "Let him in, Tim."
Tim nodded and opened the door. His father stepped over the threshold, a smug look on his face. He smiled a greeting at his son, then turned to Helen. The smug look returned to his face.
Without preamble, she said "Allen, the rest of your belongings are stacked by the TV in the family room. If you think anything is missing, let me know and we'll get it for you."
She didn't want him searching through the house on his own. Tim was grateful that everything seemed to be there. Allen thanked her for her thoroughness and gathered up his belongings. Scowling, Tim opened the door for his father. Before exiting, Allen turned in the doorway, looking back at Helen. He just stood there and looked her over slowly. She shifted in place, uncomfortable under his appraisal.
He said, "If you had taken as great care of your body as you have of your career, this might not have happened."
With that, he turned on his heel and left. The smug look never left his face. Tim watched his father lug his things to the back of his car. In his car, there was a young woman peering up at the house. She was smiling as Allen approached the car and put his things in the trunk. She looked pretty, bathed in the soft light of street lights. He guessed that was what his father was after these days. Young and pretty. It sounded like a mid-life crisis.
Closing the door, heard his mother sobbing behind him. When he turned to look at her, she retreated back upstairs to her room. His father had been mean to her lots of times before, but this time it cut deep. He knew his mother was no twenty year old, but other than a slight fullness in her hips and tummy from having twins, she was trim and good looking. Hell! A couple of his friends said they would like a girl as pretty as her. He had to confess that he too had wondered what she looked like when she was twenty. Of course, he had seen pictures of her from her wedding and first couple years of marriage to his dad, so he knew what she had looked like. She was a knockout. And she was still pretty now. She was pretty enough to fantasize about. At five foot, five, and nicely curved, she filled out blouses and skirts in a highly appealing manner. Her dark brown hear framed a softly featured face and her brown, almond shaped eyes could easily pull you in, if she wanted them too. She was a beautiful woman.
So, to Tim, his father's remark seemed unfair and made no sense to him. He allowed that their years together may have dulled some of the excitement, but his mom was a loving and responsive woman. At least, as far as he could tell. She had always been an emotional person and had always been obliging of any request that he had ever heard asked of her.
Very confusing
On this night, Helen paid a high price in tears, fear, hurt and insecurity over the final blow to her feminine ego. It angered him to think that his dad would so deliberately insult the woman he had married and raised kids with. He remember him as a decent man when he was growing up.
But, on this night, his father had not been a good man and he hated him for it. Helen spent a couple more hours in her room before he thought she might need some food and took her a sandwich and iced tea. She looked back at him and smiled through what seemed to be the last few tears she had in her.
"Oh Tim. That's really sweet of you. Just put it on the desk for now."
"Are you going to be all right, Mom?" he asked.
She sniffled one more time, rising from the bay window seat and crossed to meet him at the desk. "It looks like I should be," she said. "It seems that there is still at least one man around here that thinks I'm worth some time and effort."
Hugging him, she said, "Thanks so much for caring, Tim."
"Well, you raised me this way!"
She leaned back, her hands still on his hips, and looked into his eyes. Then she asked the question stand-up comics say is a killer for relationships. Thank God he was only her son and not her lover or something.
"Tim? Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked. The slightest of smiles crossed her face as she read the blush on his. "Oh, Tim. That is so sweet. You just made my day!"
She hugged him close. Only this time, it was tighter and there was a sense of desperation in it, as though she was happy to believe that he found her attractive, but clinging to it as though not convinced.
Maybe it was that feeling of uncertainty, or just his own suppressed lust for her, but he felt the need to make her really know that he found her desirable. With a certain amount of fear, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her upper body back just enough to look squarely into her face, yet not force her to release the embrace she had clung to for these several minutes. He moved his hands slowly to her neck, bringing her face to his.
The first kiss he gave her, he placed on her still tear stained cheek. The second kiss was gently laid on the delicate ridge of her brow. At that moment, her body relaxed against his and the nerve to do more surged within him. The third kiss he gave to his suffering mother was a timid, incestuous kiss on the mouth.
"Oh, Tim...", she breathed into the kiss.
With only that encouragement and increasing lust in his veins, the kiss lengthened and deepened. He felt her lips part, inviting him to do so as well. When his lips parted, her tongue slowly began to explore his mouth. His hands slid to her shoulders and down her back. He pulled her to him, as the kiss fed their needs.
