The doctor said, “No Mrs. Miler, that’s your son, and he’s been here since the accident, looking after you.”
She said, “Oh.” She looked off into the distance and said, “There was an accident.” You could tell by her flat tone that she had no idea about any of it. During the next two days it became apparent that there was a change in her personality, a definite lack of emotion. I hoped it was temporary. Mom had been a passionate person, whether we were talking about a movie, or fighting, or, making love. Now, nothing fired her up. She was quiet, docile, and spoke in a monotone that I hated to hear.
After a few more days, the doctors said there wasn’t more that they could do and that since she had begun to remember some small details of the past, hopefully her progress would accelerate. They also said that the longer it took, the less chance of it all coming back.
When the swelling went down, I took her home and although she could get around, she spent a lot time in bed. She was a strange mixture of able and unable. If I told her what to do, she was fine. Left to her own devices, she could hardly initiate any actions. I left her lists of things to do and Jim and a neighbor stopped in, since we had only one income again and I had to go to work.
A week went by and there was little progress. When I came home one night I found her in bed distractedly putting lotion on the same arm over and over. I said, “Let me do that for you mom.” She rested on her side and I put it on her legs and arms. The nightgown was loose and I reached down her back to with the lotion and she made soothing sounds.
The memory of her soft skin against me exploded in my brain. She wasn’t completely on her stomach and I slowly stroked over the breast I could reach. I did it again and then stopped, thinking better of it. I didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t jump or yell and I returned to the back rub. She said, “Paul, why did you do that, I’m your mother.”
I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and wanted her, but I said, “Sorry, it was an accident.”
She said, “Oh, okay.” The repercussions of the touch came the next day. I brought her breakfast before going to work and she said, “Paul I had strange dreams last night, I don’t remember the details. Paul, will you tell me the truth about something?”
I said, “Of course mom.”
She said, “Did you ever touch me like you did yesterday…while I was asleep?”
I was horrified. I said, “Mom! I would never do that.”
She was very dispassionate about the whole thing and kept asking me questions seemingly more out of curiosity than anything else. I think that her body remembered my hands on it, and I was glad of that. She said, “Paul were we ever intimate?”
I thought that the truth might upset her, but she asked calmly and I just said, “Yes.”
She made a little ‘Hmm’ sound and said, “Were we intimate more than once?”
I said, “Yes.”
She said, “Many times?”
I said, “Many…many times.”
She said, “Did I seduce you, or did you seduce me?”
I said, “We seduced each other.”