Money, yes, but I often wondered how the father I had never met could have left such a gentle and loving creature as my mother, Rebecca, who had no doubt surrendered her virginity to him, and he had left her to spend her youth bringing up a child. But such is life and perhaps my father, being almost as young as my mother, didn’t realise what a treasure he had lost. But I realised and swore that if ever I should have the privilege of becoming my mother’s lover I would never leave her. A vain hope, for this love of my life was beyond my reach.
* * * * * * * *
Not such a vain hope as it transpired, and not so far beyond my reach as I had imagined. It is said that given enough time truth will rise to the surface, and so it was for me; the truth of love rose to the surface. Yet it came at a time and a place when I had least expected it, if I had ever expected it at all.
It was a hot and humid night and the air conditioner wasn’t coping well, in fact it was making things worse because it was the evaporative type and it was making the atmosphere even clammier. I was restless and unable to sleep, and I think it was about 1-30 a.m. when I decided to go and have a cold shower to cool down a bit. As I passed mother’s bedroom I noticed the door partially open and the bluish light of a flickering television set. She too was having a restless night.
I had my shower, and partially drying myself I put on my athlete’s jockstrap in case mum happened to be on the prowl. It was the most minimal garment and genital cover I had, and thinking back I can see that it was ridiculous to even bother with that, but I suppose habit and modesty lingers on.
Returning to my room I saw that the television in mother’s room was still on. She must have detected my movements because she called out, “Robert, is that you?”
“No,” I called back, “just your friendly neighbourhood rapist.”
“Then come in rapist,” she laughed.
Mother’s bedroom was, as far as I was concerned, very much her private space, and I had rarely entered it except at her express invitation, and that usually involved a request for me to clear a stopped sink or to remember to buy something for the next day’s evening meal, or some sort of chore.
I entered her room anticipating such an instruction, perhaps to get her a drink. Mother wearing a plain a cotton nightdress was propped up on the bed with several pillows behind her back watching a film on TV.
As I entered she smiled at me and said, “Can’t sleep?”
“No,” I replied, “it’s too hot and humid.”
“Yes,” she replied, “Me too, come and watch this film with me,” she said, patting the bed beside her invitingly.
I’d never been invited on to her bed before, and given the way I felt about mother I wasn’t to sure about accepting the invitation now, especially as my jock didn’t offer much genital concealment but I was thankful I was wearing it because it did provide some concealment.
Seeing me hesitate mum smiled and said, “Neither of us can sleep so we might as well keep each other company.”
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