I took her hand and let her guide me to sit on the edge of the bed. She sat up straighter and pushed her hair back.
“I don’t look at that stuff much,” I said defensively, despite not having been directly accused.
“I know. That’s what worries me sometimes. You don’t bring girls home very often, and you don’t look at… ‘things’… on the internet much either, unless you’re just very good at hiding it. I’m worried it’s my fault.”
“It’s not… I don’t… I’m not sure what conversation we’re having.”
Mom smiled sadly and clasped my hand between both of hers. She had to think about her next words for a moment. I realized that she was just as lost as I was.
“Boys masturbate,” Mom said. “You don’t want to hear me say it, but we both know it. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t.”
“Mom-”
“Shush. If you’re going to tell me you don’t, I’ll save you some time and tell you right now that you’re full of shit.”
“Language,” I said absently, feeling a brief spark of amusement in my otherwise nervous and uncertain mind.
Mom smiled faintly at being rebuked for her choice of wording. Somehow the tension between us dropped slightly, though not by enough for me to be comfortable.
“Look,” she said, “all I’m saying is you should do what you want to do. I’m not here to make sure you stay innocent and pure. All I want is for you to grow up healthy and capable of functioning in the real world.”
“Some people think mastur- some people think it’s not healthy,” I said. “Or that it’s not right. Or something.”
“Is that what you think?”
“I… no.”
“Do you think that’s the sort of thing that I secretly think?”
“Probably not.”
“Good. So take the laptop and we won’t talk about this anymore. Unless you want to, but I very much doubt that’s going to happen.”
“Um, okay. Thanks, I think.”
“You’re welcome. Good night, sweetie.”
“Night, Mom.”
****
I felt like I was waking up from a very realistic dream the next morning. The talk I’d had with Mom the night before felt like it had all been in my head. She didn’t act any differently around me, nor did she so much as hint at the conversation we’d had. I expected something to have changed between us, but it seemed like that wasn’t the case. It was all a little too surreal for me to deal with so early in the day.
“Any plans for the day?” Mom asked me as she sipped on her coffee.
“Um, no, not really,” I said. “Just kind of the usual.”
She nodded and took a bite of toast. I grabbed a package of store-bought muffins and my own cup of coffee and sat down at the breakfast table with her. I took one of the muffins out and started eating. I didn’t really taste anything as I ate, but I knew if I didn’t eat that Mom would only worry.
“I might be home a little bit late tonight,” Mom said. “I’ll call you if it’s anything more than an hour.”
I nodded and took another bite of my muffin. I couldn’t quite manage to look her in the eyes. I kind of wanted to avoid further conversation, but something had been bugging me.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“How come you haven’t had a boyfriend or anything since Dad’s been gone?”