*I’ll start cooking soon. Are you going to answer?*
*Do I have to?*
*Want dinner?*
I couldn’t understand why I would want to know. I never cared how I really looked unless it
was to make a sale. My son wasn’t buying anything from me and yet, I wanted to know what he thought.
*”Yes.*
*Then answer me.*
*Mom, you’re not just hot, you’re breathtaking. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?*
*Of course, I look at myself every morning, but I’m nothing special.*
*Mom, any man should worship you.*
His words made me blush, and gave me a peculiar feeling in my stomach. Feeling
altogether confident, I got up and headed downstairs to cook dinner for him. I decided to
make a stew and put all of the ingredients in a pot. While cooking, I did text him again
asking what made me hot. By the time I got all the ingredients boiling in a pot and rolls
buttered, he had responded.
*You just have a sexy aura about you. Plus there is that killer smile and a body to die for!*
I smiled, but the thoughts of being attractive suddenly lost way to understanding what it
meant. A feeling of dread grew in my stomach and so I asked him something to help me
get over it.
*Do you feel weird telling me these things?*
*Kinda. I don’t want you to think i leer at you all the time.*
*You don’t?*
I put the phone down and continued to cook. The phone sounded with a ding and I
retrieved it.
*No.*
*You sure? I mean you’ve seen me apparently a few times.*
*Not up close though.*
*We couldn’t do that.*
*I wasn’t asking you to. Sounds like something you’d want.*
If he was in the kitchen, he may have seen the look of horror on my face. The thought of
wanting sex or even being attractive made me dread my sexuality.
*What are you insinuating?*
I asked the question in an accusatory tone, hoping that it would deter him. A growing pit of
disgust grew in the pit of my stomach. Somehow I knew it was the wrong thing to say.
*I’m insinuating that you want to get laid.*
That couldn’t be it. I had sworn of sex. Mike didn’t know. He had asked about his father
once, but I had just mumbled something about him being dead. That wasn’t true. The evil
asshole who had raped me was still alive. I knew because he had tried contacting me years
before. We had talked and the man even sent me money, but told me one day he’d like to
meet his son. There was no apology given for what he had done.
*Can we talk at dinner?*
*Yeah, why wouldn’t we? Are you going to stay downstairs for that?*
*Yes*
*Okay. When?*
*Ten minutes. Don’t be late*
I almost backed out of getting dinner. My nerves so worked that I had returned to my room
while the stew finished. In my room, I was a complete mess with what I was about to do.
Tell Mike about his father. There was a surety that Mike would hate me for sure when I told
told him about his father. Maybe I wanted to finally open up to someone about it.
After ten minutes, I returned to the kitchen to prepare the plates while my heart raced. I
even opened up a bottle of wine and killed two glasses. Something to help calm my nerves
and I swayed in drunkeness a bit as I served dinner.