I inched my way towards the frail sight on the bed. Her bawls and weeping made me hasten my pace with each stride, eventually I found myself gliding over the room to comfort her. She crumpled into my arms, bawling out and crying to the heavens. She screamed fraughtfully, "Why?! What did I do? Why am I always alone?" I tried shushing her and rocking her consolably. I comfortingly said, "It's ok mom. I'm here now."
She bawled into my arms, "Why did he leave me?" She continued to cry, her mascara and eye liner streaming down her face as sobs were wistfully finding their way to my ears. My heart ached as all I could do was coddle the withering form of my mother.
My mother is usually a bright and delightful person, beaming smiles and radiating warmth whenever she enters a room. My heart ached seeing her crumpled form in my arms and sobbing. I grasp her fully, looking her deep in her eyes and comfortingly say, "Mom, you are the best girl I have ever met. Alan is a dumb, emotionless prick. He probably couldn't even find his prick in the tangled weave of his bush." She let a little chuckle from that. I relented on, "Mom, I am beyond words as to why Alan left you at the altar. We'll be alright." I began patting her head as she settled down and started slow sniffles. I continued, "Alan's a dumb prick who picked an 18-year-old dumb blonde from the strip club last week, over an astonishing woman such as yourself, mom." She chuckled between sniffles, "Laying the praise on a little thick don't you think, Derrick?" I patted her head as reassuringly as I can.
"When did you become so mature?"
"Well, mom, after moving out I figured I can't be the brash, precocious brat you raised forever. Working and living on my own as I flew by the seat of my pants had me grow up as the days wore on." I strode over to the hotel room's bar. I poured mom a glass, while I snatched a bottle of whiskey and poured myself a short one.
I gave mom her glass and sat next to her. She looked at the floor abysmally, trying to search the plain hotel's carpet pattern for an answer to today's disaster. I took mom's hand in mine, "Hey mom, you know Alan has always been weird and odd to talk to, right?" She cocked her head at me and gave me a quizzical look.
"Yea, we would be sitting on the couch watching a football game. I would try to talk to him about the game like some of the plays, but the words would fall on deaf ears. Then a few moments later he would chuckle to himself and mumble some nonsensical thing. Some of the cousins were actually surprised you agreed to marrying him. They nicknamed him, 'Uncle Toad'". Hearing that actually got a chortle out of mom and she gave me a playful shove in the shoulder.
"He did not look like a toad! He was...dashing, I think, in his own way."
I threw mom a quizzical look back to her. "Are we talking about the same Alan Perskins? The man was bow legged and stood at best at 5'5" on a good day. Mom, he could eat for the three of us in one sitting!" I was slowly getting more riled up as I thought about that man spending every waking moment with my mother.
"Alan is a two-bit crook, whose sniveling, narrow-behind left you a puddle of a mess here, while his out frolicking with some dumb stripper."
Mom's face became crestfallen as the events of the afternoon crashed back to her. I scooted closer to mom and I let my fingers become interlaced with hers. I wipe away some tears forming on mom's face, I hold her face for a second longer, I see her breath get caught in her chest.
"Derrick, honey...wait...a moment...what we did...that was years ago, I was only helping you relieve yourself...this is crossing..."
I hold mom's chin and I see her beginning to purse her lips and close her eyes. Our lips meet and it's electric. We tighten our grip on each other's hands. She breaks away, pushing me, and turns, suddenly bawling again. "I can't. I'm just dumping this all onto you. I can't do this to you. What are we even doing?" She crumbles onto the bed again, bawling harder than when I first entered.
I take a swig of liquid courage,
diving down and embrace my mother,
"Samantha, Sammy." I lift her head to gaze longingly at her eyes. She looks morosely at me. "We both need this. I've needed you longer than you would believe. You are the woman who enters my dreams at every moment. There isn't a moment's respite I have where I'm not thinking of you." I prop her up and I lay my head on her lap, something that has always made her smile since I was a kid. I begin playfully running my fingers up mom's thigh, she give a diminutively dismissive laugh, "Derrick, stop it! You know how that tickles! This isn't the time for games." She withers on top of my head.
I grab her wrists with one hand and in one fluid motion I'm on top of her on the bed. I wrap my other hand around her waist and I look longingly at my mother. She looks away, a mix of forlorn and shame. I take my gaze down her figure and drink in how she fills in the bridal gown, her voluptuous bust and scrumptious hips fill out every curve.
She bites her bottom lip and turns her eyes to look at me scornfully. She retaliates, "Is this how you want me?"
