When I finally got back to my mother’s house it was evening and I was ready to go at it again with her. But I only had to look at her face to see that something was wrong. And that she had taken something. This was not new. In fact one of the reasons that the judge awarded custody of me to my father was that she often took something. It might be weed, or pills, or booze, or anything else she’d gotten hold of. That was one of the reasons I didn’t know my mother very well. When I was a kid, I saw her once a week, if that much. At that age I didn’t understand why, at times, my father wouldn’t let me see her for months.
Now she wasn’t wrecked, but her speech was slow enough for me to know that her altered mind was somewhere else. I said, “Hey, how’s it going mom?”
She said, “Yeah.” She hadn’t gotten dressed and I could see under her robe that she wasn’t wearing a bra. I started to stiffen and moved to her taking her tit in my hand as I tried to kiss her. She moved back and said, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I said, “What’s the matter?”
She said, “Look Paul, this was all a mistake.”
I said, “Last night was a mistake? Mom it was great; you said it was great.”
“I know what I said…I know what I thought, but I’m an idiot, a fucking idiot.” That was two more ‘Fucks’ than mom usually said in a year.
I said, “Did I do something wrong, are you pissed because I went out?”
“No Paul, you didn’t do anything wrong, you’re a boy, and I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought it was about the sex for me.” She hesitated a minute and then said, “Okay listen, it’s not your fault, I’ll try to explain some of it to you, but it’s so damn embarrassing. I had this idea about you and me, and it got stuck in my head, I thought it was what I wanted…oh shit…look, I’m not saying it wasn’t good. It was good, you were good, and I did want to have sex with you, but sitting around all day today, I realized that I was really looking for something more than sex. I need someone who can give me what I always wanted…what I couldn’t get from your father. It’s a sharing; it’s intimacy that only has something to do with sex, but not everything. Oh for Christ’s sake, I’m going on about something you probably have no idea what the hell I’m talking about.”
“But mom,” I said, “I thought I was good for you?”
“It’s not you baby,” she said. It’s me. I just can’t go through all this stuff anymore. I’m sorry…I’m sorry I can’t do this. I’m too old for you and I need someone who’s older and understands. It’s probably too late for me and too early for you…bad timing honey.” She took a deep breath. “You’ll be fine, and I didn’t mean to snap at you before. You’re where you should be at your age. Just have fun and forget what happened…and forgive your old drunken stupid mother.” A couple of tears rolled down her face.
I said, “Oh come on mom. I’m sorry, I should have called you; I should have come back earlier…don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at me. Please baby, I made a mistake, a terrible mistake…just try and forgive me.”