Mom frowned and held her mug in front of her mouth. I knew it wasn’t the sort of question I should be asking, but hopefully she wouldn’t mind too much.
“Where is this coming from?” she asked.
“Last night,” I said. “You said something about how I don’t bring girls home and, well, you don’t bring guys home either. Is it ’cause of me?”
“Oh, sweetie…” she said, reaching over to take my hand. “It’s not you. I mean, not the way you’re probably thinking. I just don’t feel the need to have another man around when I have you.”
“That sounds like the sort of thing a mother has to say.”
“Maybe it is. That doesn’t mean it’s not the truth.”
“Well… okay. I guess.”
Mom smiled and kissed my cheek as she stood up.
“I need to go get ready for work. We can talk more this evening if you want to.”
“That’s all I wanted to know. I’ll see you tonight.”
I let the subject drop as Mom left, but I didn’t stop thinking about it. I knew there was more to the story than she would ever let on. She couldn’t possibly have substituted any and all romantic aspirations for the love of her child. Even if I took priority, there must have been other needs and desires buried deep within her. It pained me to think that I might be holding back her happiness in some way.
All Mom ever seemed to worry about was my well-being. Someone needed to worry about hers.
****
I got a call from Mom that afternoon to tell me she’d be home around six-thirty. Since I knew I had the apartment to myself for a while, I was kind of tempted to find some porn on the laptop and jerk off. Last night had just been too weird for me to enjoy it properly, but some of the residual awkwardness had faded a little.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to shake the idea that Mom would somehow know if I decided to take care of myself in that way. Even if she didn’t mind, it was disconcerting to think that she knew more about my masturbation habits than I’d assumed. It made me wonder what the obvious clues were. Obviously some of things I’d always worried about must have been justified. I was more paranoid than ever about closing my bedroom door, or taking a long shower, or even just of using the laptop.
It was silly to think about things that way. Mom wanted me to deal with my needs, and she clearly knew what that entailed. It wasn’t like things could get any more awkward, short of her actually walking in on me or something. My best option was probably to keep masturbating as usual and try to get used to the idea that it wasn’t as much of a secret as I liked to pretend it was. It was possible that I could get used to the situation.
In the end, I didn’t jerk off. Instead I redirected my thoughts by making supper. Mom did most of the cooking, but I was competent enough to manage some basic meals on my own. Anything that didn’t require carefully following a recipie was generally within my ability.
Mom got home a few minutes before supper was ready. She smiled when she saw me standing by the stove.
“Aw, thanks, sweetie,” she said, walking up behind me and kissing me on the cheek. “I was wondering what I was going to do about supper, but I guess I don’t have to.”