I couldn’t look at her as I said, “Yes, I do, but…”
“And these pictures have been a substitute for the sort of relationship you’d like to have with me, haven’t they?”
“Yes, but I’d never have tried to…you know…with you…”
“So you prefer the substitute for the real thing?”
“Yes…no…yes…I mean, I can’t have the real…you…”
I dimly realised we were at a turning point in our relationship. Whatever was said now was sure to define our future together, if there was to be any future together.
“Mother, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to have…those sorts of feelings for you but…”
She suddenly smiled; “So you’re sorry you’ve got those sorts of feelings for me; why, are they so unpleasant?”
“No…no, of course not; it’s just that…well…I thought if you knew about them you’d be horrified; you’d think I was perverted.”
“Well I do know about them now, and I’m not horrified and I don’t think you’re perverted.”
“You don’t?”
“Terry, you’re being deliberately obtuse. You’re supposed by a smart uni student you must know that…well if you haven’t read about it I have. Mothers and son often have sexual feelings about each other.”
“Do they?” I asked, trying to sound ingenuous. I’d read about that too but wasn’t going to admit it, and in any case I knew from my own experience that sons — or this son at least — had sexual feelings about their mothers.
“Of course they do, why else are mother and son incest sites so popular?” mother said decisively. You only have to look at these pictures to see…”
“Yes, but are they really mother and son?” I interrupted.
“That’s a point,” she said, “but even if they aren’t really mother and son it goes to show…”
I interrupted again, trying to change the direction of the talk.
“You know, I’ve often tried to fill in the interstices between the pictures.”
“The inter what?”
“You know the gaps. How did they get started and what went on between the pictures; I sometimes make up stories about how it all happened.”
“Do you?” Mother looked intently at the screen again.
“Yes, I see what you mean. How did they get started? It must have been difficult for one of them to take the first step.”
“Mmm, that’s always puzzled me.”
Mother swung the chair round to face me again and said brightly, “Let’s try and work it out, unless of course you’re too tired and want to get back to bed.”
“No…no, what do we do?”
“First we set the scene — work out their situation.”
“How?”
“Use your imagination, Terry, be creative.”
“Ah, yes…er…”
“She’s a divorcee who has her son living with her.”
“That’s not very creative mum, that’s our situation.”
“I know it’s our situation sweetheart,” mother said with heavy patience, “so have you got a better idea?”
“No…no, that’s fine. So she’s a divorcee and she has a lover, or even lots of lovers; yes that’s it she…”
“No that isn’t it, she not that sort of woman. She only gives herself to someone she loves.”
“There aren’t many women like these days.”
“All right, she’s one of the minority and…”
“She doesn’t have a very strong sex drive.”
“Yes, she does, she got a very strong sex drive; it’s just that she doesn’t just…just…er…express it with anyone.”