Except about my incestuous infatuation of course.
“Soul mates,” I mumbled under my breath during a pause in our conversation.
“What’s that honey?”
“Uh, nothing Mom,” I mumbled rather lamely. How I wished I could tell her how I felt.
She turned around and looked at me, and she still had that small, mysterious smile on her lips. I could have sworn she was reading my mind. She walked up to me and put her hands on my chest, causing my heart to flutter.
“Well, I’m all done here, so why don’t you take out a bottle of wine for us to share over dinner?”
“Really?” I asked, somewhat surprised. I was old enough to drink but had never drank alcohol in her presence.
“Really,” she said. Standing on her tip-toes she gave me a light kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Hurry up sweetie, don’t keep Mommy waiting,” she said with a small giggle.
Dinner with Mom was always pleasant, but tonight it was even better – I think the wine helped loosen us up even more. I had had hard liquor before, so I didn’t expect a glass of red to affect me much, but it did. Mom too. I think it was that we were so comfortable around each other that the wine just aided and abetted. I knew that neither of us were anywhere close to drunk, but it was fun acting like it and going with the flow.
There was still half a bottle of wine left, so while I cleared the dishes, Mom filled both of our glasses and suggested we move to the couch.
Any physical contact with her was more than welcome and I readily agreed. With our glasses on the side table, Mom snuggled up to me, resting her head on my chest. I gently stroked her hair, both of us happily content.
“This feels good,” she whispered.
“I know Mom. I love being with you. I wouldn’t give this up for anything in the world.”
She raised her head up from my chest and looked at me. There was a strange expression on her face that I had never seen before.
“Do you really mean that, honey?”
“Of course I do, Mom.”
“Earlier in the evening…you…you said that I was your favorite gal, did you really mean that sweetheart?”
I moved my hand from her hair and gently stroked her cheek. “I do Mom,” I said softly. “You always have been and always will be my favorite girl. You are my life. I love you so much. More than anything else in the world.” I kissed her gently on the top of her head.
“I love you too, sweetheart. You are my everything. I’m never more happier than when I am with you.”
I looked at her with all the love I had for her and I hoped she could see what I felt. And when I looked into her eyes I realized that she did, and that she felt it too.
We were in love. I always knew that I loved her like a man loves a woman. And while I always knew she loved me as a son, it took me the better part of nearly twenty years to realize that she loved me too, like a woman loves a man.
“I love you,” we said at the same time.
We kissed. I cannot blame it on the wine, because I don’t want to and because it would be a lie. I don’t know who initiated it; I like to think we both did simultaneously. Before I knew it she was kissing me with more love and passion that I had ever known or experienced. And I was kissing her back. It was incredible. I had never kissed or been kissed like that. It was hot, wet and loving. There was no hesitation on either of our parts. I had bared my soul, my deepest desire, to her and she reciprocated. There was no going back now.