Even if you managed to hang on to your job and avoid illness, the pandemic changed everything. For some, a lot. For others, a little. I definitely belong to that first group.
Here's how it all went down.
I graduated from college in May, 2019. I spent a couple of months goofing around - - rolling out of bed at noon, grabbing a joint, listening to music, hanging out with friends. The typical post-grad slacker thing. I took a trip over the border to surf for a couple of weeks in Rosarito. I kept promising my parents I'd look for a job - - but things never got serious on that front.
By September, my dad gave me a choice: get a paycheck or get a new address.
I ended up bussing tables at a local Mexican joint. The hours were good - - late afternoon shifts allowed me to stick to my morning joint-and-jerkoff routine and still hang out with my dudes past midnight. The paycheck was small but gave me something to wave in my dad's face.
Things were settling into a comfy little groove when we started hearing rumors about Wuhan. In mid-March, 2020, California issued its stay-at-home order. The restaurant shut down. My paychecks dried up.
The stay-at-home order did more than cancel paychecks. My parents never had a happy marriage. I guess they stayed together for my sake. A month at home - - bumping into each other all the time, stressed about work and the future and their health - - things got pretty combustible. By late April, my dad had split. He decided it was better to ride out the pandemic at his brother's place up in Oregon. He also decided it was better to open up a new bank account to stash his salary.
That left me and my mom - - my increasingly depressed and penniless mom. She looked for work but her resumes just ended up floating somewhere on the web. I looked for work - - maybe a couple of times a week, if I remembered.
My mom was a lot more resilient than I was, I guess. Resigning herself to dad's departure and plugging away at the job market, she decided the pandemic was a great opportunity to get back in shape. After all, at some point the dating scene would have to open back up - - right?
She jogged. I slept. She did yoga. I did blunts. She lifted weights. I lifted tallboys of cheap beer.
One afternoon in June, I rummaged through our kitchen cabinets in my boxers looking for munchies. Mom returned from her second jog of the day - - sweaty and flushed. I sat at the kitchen nook with a bowl of frosted flakes when - - after showering - - she sat down opposite me.
"Ryan," she said, her eyes darting left and right. "We need to talk."
Oh jesus, I thought to myself. Here we go again - - more parental static about jobs, responsibilities, the future, etc. etc.
"What's up?" My spoon hung in mid-air.
Mom shifted on the nook bench. "I can't get your dad on the phone and he's stopped sending checks."
I nodded.
"We can't get by on just your unemployment." She put her hands to the sides of her head. "I don't know what to do."
I nodded.
"So," I started. "I guess I'll have to get a job." I shoveled more milk and cereal into my mouth. "I'll drive for Door Dash or whatever," I continued. "But I think that's less money than my EDD check."
Mom nodded. She frowned.
"I just can't find anything," she answered. "I keep looking and looking. But it's just impossible."
I nodded.
"Look," I said. "They can't kick us out of the apartment. So long as we've got money for food, I think we're okay."
Mom just stared at me.
"I've got to find something," she said in a quiet voice. "There must be something out there."
That's where we left things - - until that weird day in July.
I was listening to tunes in my room when my stomach started to growl. Time for munchies, I said to myself. When I walked past my mom's bedroom, I heard her talking. To herself? To someone on the phone? I knocked on the door.
"Oh," she said in a startled voice. "Hold on, Ryan."
Dumb me. Maybe I was too stoned or maybe the pandemic had made me forget the usual rules. Or, maybe it was just fate.
I opened the door.
My jaw dropped.
My fifty year-old mother was sitting on the edge of the bed - - dressed in nothing but a lacy black bra, black silk panties, sheer stockings, and a pair of super-high black heels. I struggled against whatever was happening in the back of my throat.
My mom stood - - her face frozen in shock.
For just one brief moment, I thought: damn, she's in great shape. Her bra pushed up her mango-sized tits. Her panties emphasized her narrow waist and wide hips. She had well-toned, thick thighs and long legs. Okay, yeah, she had a little pooch around her belly, but she hardly looked like a new AARP member.
"Get out," she shrieked. "Get the hell out of here."
I mumbled something and closed the door. I forgot about the munchies and retreated to my room. What the hell, I thought as I lit up a joint. Was she video-calling my dad? I sucked some sweet sativa into my lungs and plopped down on my bed. Maybe she'd found a boyfriend?
As I pondered this strange multiple choice question, a faint knock sounded at my door.
"Yeah," I said. "Come on in."
My mom appeared in the doorway, now wearing a long bathrobe but also still wearing her stockings and heels.
We stared at each other for a minute or two.
"Ryan," she said, wrapping her arms around her waist. "I'm sorry."
I nodded.
"I should have told you."
I nodded again and stubbed the joint out in an ashtray.
"Uhhhh... '' I replied. "Are you and dad back together again or something?"
Mom rolled her eyes.
"No. I haven't heard from your dad in months."
I nodded. "Okay."
Mom sighed.
"I was looking for work," she said. " And, you know, I couldn't find anything."
"Yeah," I answered. "Sure."
"But then...." She paused. "My friend, Sally, told me about these web sites."
Sally? My mind flicked through a deck of cards. Sally. Right. My mom's old college friend. The one who'd moved to Idaho a while back.
"So... I gave it a try." Mom leaned against the door frame. "And, that's what I've been doing. Mostly while you're in bed... or getting stoned."
I shook my head. "Wow...," I said. "You're like a cam model or something?"
Mom nodded her head. "I guess that's what you call it."
"Cool... cool," I said.
Of course, I knew all about "live model" websites. I'd even enjoyed a few - - when my shitty paycheck allowed me. To be honest, though, they'd never really done much for me. The girls all seemed so bored. Or, so eager to get my tokens. Porn clips always worked better for me.
"So...." I didn't want to sound insensitive. "The money is good? I mean... it's worth it?"
Mom relaxed - - probably relieved at my reaction.
"It's pretty good," she said. "I mean it's not great. But, it's getting better." She gave a little nervous chuckle. "I guess guys really do have a thing for MILFs."
I smiled. MILFs. Yeah, I liked the MILF stuff too. Watching some old bird get all hot and bothered at the sight of a young dude's wiener. I suppressed a dope-inspired giggle. It was kind of kinky - - and a nice break from fake tits, skinny asses, and whiny voices.
"It's only temporary," my mom continued. "Until this pandemic thing goes away and we get back to normal."
I nodded.
"Okay," I said. "That's cool. If you're cool with it."
Mom smiled. "I'm cool with it. For now. And...." She dropped her arms to her sides. "I promise you won't even notice."
"No problem," I answered.
She turned and closed the door. I re-lit my joint. As I puffed, I texted my buddies to let them know my mom was now a cam girl. We LMFAO-ed all over the text.
A couple of weeks later, I was again digging into a bowl of frosted flakes when my mom emerged from her room. She was barefoot and wrapped in her robe. She sat down opposite me and picked up a spoon somebody had left on the table.
"Ryan," she said in slow, drawn out tones. "Everything okay?"
I nodded and watched her tap the spoon on the table top. She smiled back at me, still tapping away. I kept eating but the spoon tapping and her silence were getting me a little antsy.
