I blamed my father for a while. I guess it wasn't his fault. The bad thing he did was die. What I got from him was the name Bobby and a feeling that everything you have can be taken away in the next moment, so you'd better enjoy the moment you're in. Oh, and he also left my mom and me in debt. I was eleven at the time and it's taken my mom almost eight years to climb out of the financial hole, if you can call it 'out' when you have $237.00 in the bank.
I got my first full time job eight months ago and with what I was being paid, I knew it would be a while before we would be buying fancy cars and houses, but at least we got by a little easier. I had wanted to work since I was sixteen, but mom insisted that I at least finish High School. The best I could do, was buy a couple of lottery tickets every week, and hope.
I never saw anyone work as hard as my mother did. She had a full time job as a waitress and a part time job at a dry-cleaning store. She never complained, but there was little time for joy in her life. I wanted to do something nice for her and so I suggested that we spend Sunday, which was her only day off, together. She seemed happy about it. We went to a movie and there was a ladies clothing store on the small shopping strip.
I said, "Mom, let me buy you something." She didn't want me to, but I insisted and spent half of what I had saved from a month's wages. It was a light jacket that had a nice blend of colors and would go with a lot of things. She was so pleased with it that she was even wore it around the house. I can't tell you how I felt each time I saw it on her.
Sunday became our day together even though she kept telling me that I should go and see my friends. I saw enough of them during the week and I enjoyed being with her and I enjoyed seeing her smile.
Mostly we went to the movies and one Sunday we saw something called "Closer," and afterwards, we talked about how difficult it was to find a satisfying relationship. I said, "Well mom, you're not going to find one unless you go out; it doesn't just appear out of thin air."
"I know Bobby," she said. "But you saw that I went out with three different guys in the past six months and each experience was worse than the last. Going out on Sundays with my baby is all I need, the rest is more trouble than it's worth."
"I guess I shouldn't talk," I said. "It hasn't been much better for me. That last one, Irene, was some head-case." Mom had met her, and we both laughed. "Talking about dates mom, there's a retirement party for a guy at work and everybody's bringing someone; why don't you come with me?"
"Sure sweetie, I know just what jacket to wear." Her smile was vibrant and she had an excitement in her voice that I hadn't heard in years. We had a nice time at the party and mom met the people I worked with. We danced a few times and she was right up against me on the slow songs. I liked it, and she was embarrassed when I told her she was a sexy dancer.
When we got home, she said, "Boy, Karen and Lucy sure seemed interested in you; have you gone out with them, or…?"
I laughed, "No mom." Both of the girls came up a few times during the evening and Lucy had asked me to dance with her. "They're just girls," I said. "And not really my type."
"Oh? Then what is your type?"
"Oh I don't know, just not them." What I didn't say was the thought that popped into my head. 'My type is more a woman, a woman like you.' Well that got my head going for a few days. I started thinking what it would be like with my mom. The first thoughts were as a girlfriend, someone to do things with as a friend and companion. The next thoughts turned erotic and I couldn't get away from the fact that I found my mother sexually attractive.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had never been out with a girl that I really wanted. I don't mean that I didn't want to have sex with them, because I did, but after the sex was over, it wasn't enough. And the more I thought about my mother, the more I thought about how much I liked her. I asked myself, "Well, why couldn't she could be good for me, and why couldn't I be good for her?" How do you tell your mother something like that?
After a few weeks of obsessing on it, I did try to tell her; well actually, I tried to show her first. We were in the movies and with my heart thumping, I leaned over and kissed her cheek. She turned and smiled quizzically at me. Two minutes later, I leaned over and kissed her on the lips. She whispered with total incomprehension, "What are you doing?"
I said, "Kissing you."
She said, "Why?"
I said, "Why do people kiss each other?"
By then she was becoming uncomfortable and people around us were becoming annoyed at the whispering. I followed her when she got up and left the theatre. When we were in the lobby she said, "Why were you kissing me like that Bobby?"
I blurted out all the jumbled thoughts I'd been having, saying things like, "We could be good for each other," and "I think you're so sexy."
She couldn't take any of it in. "Bobby this is too crazy…let's go home." On the ride back she was asking me questions you'd ask someone you might be considering committing.
"Mom I haven't flipped out, well maybe a little, but I just think we both deserve to be happy and I thought…I don't know…maybe we could be happy together."
"Happy? What are you talking about…happy how, by kissing me on the mouth and…what? Please tell me I'm wrong about what I think you're saying."
I almost whispered, "You're not wrong."
"Oh God." Those were the last words she said until we got home. The apartment never felt as small and claustrophobic as it did that night. I made the couch up as usual and mom went into the bedroom. Late into the night I thought I heard noises coming from her room and I did something I had never done before, I listened at her door. I wasn't sure if she was crying or if the noises were…sexual. How could they be? I couldn't tell, and then they stopped. I stayed up berating myself for upsetting her so much.
In the morning, she usually left by 7:30, which was when I got up to get ready for work. My alarm had just gone off and I turned and saw her sitting by me on the foldout where I slept. She stroked my hair back from my forehead a few times and said, " I'm sorry I reacted that way; I didn't respect your feelings, and I guess I just have to think about all this. I love you no matter what. We'll talk later baby, okay?"
I said, "Okay," and she gave me a quick kiss and left. When we came home that night we had a conversation most mothers and sons don't have. She just came out with it.
"Are you sexually attracted to me, Bobby?"
I was somehow able to look at her and say, "Yes."
She raised her eyebrows and said, "Wow…well, okay, I guess we'll have to deal with that. Are you sure it's not just a …"
"Mom, I said, "It's not just anything, it's how I've been feeling, and it's real."
"All right sweetheart, I understand, but you have to realize that I'm not used to…"
"Mom, do you feel anything like what I'm talking about?"
"Oh Bobby, I love you and you're a wonderful good-looking young man, and even if I felt an…attraction, what could it come to?"
"Well mom, we don't know what it could come to; we don't know what anything could come to. All I know is that is that I want to be with you." I went over and kissed her. It was soft and long and I remained on her lips as she made a small whimpering noise. I let my tongue gently inch into her mouth, and her own tip met mine. We played tenuously that way and I broke it off not wanting to freak her out. I held her without trying to go any further and whispered in her ear, "That was sweet mom."
She stayed in my arms and responded with an, "Mmm…"
Throughout dinner she gave me this weird smile that sort of asked, "Who is that person seated across from me?"