Chapter 3

The next day Beto and I talked in the morning before going to school, we were confused by our mother’s reaction but also intrigued, she certainly wouldn’t tell our father and that was a relief. We came to the conclusion that she would come to us at some point to have a more serious conversation, so we decided to wait for that conversation. I think that was the longest time we spent away from each other, almost a whole week. Physically we were there, sleeping next door to each other, but emotionally we were more distant than ever.

I missed him, his touch, his scent, his voice. I missed the way he made me feel alive, desired, seen. But I also understood why we needed this space, this time to process everything that had happened. Our relationship had been thrown into chaos, and we needed to find our footing again.

One evening, after a particularly long day at school, I found myself sitting alone in the kitchen, a steaming cup of tea in front of me. I was lost in thought, my mind wandering to places it shouldn’t, when I heard footsteps approaching.

I looked up to see Beto entering the kitchen, his dark hair disheveled and his eyes tired. He offered me a small smile, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

We fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

I watched as Beto leaned against the counter, his eyes fixed on the swirling patterns in his coffee. He looked tired, worn down by the weight of our secret. I wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but I held back. We had agreed to keep our distance, at least for now.

“Do you really think Mom is going to talk to us? It’s been almost a week.” I speak in a low, straight voice, not wanting to sound too hopeful or desperate. “You think she’s forgotten?” Beto asks, his eyes still fixed on the coffee swirling in his mug. I shrug, taking another sip of my tea. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I doubt it. She’s not the type to forget things easily.” Beto nods, his expression thoughtful. “You’re right. She’s always been sharp as a tack.” I smile at the memory of our mother, her keen intellect and quick wit. “Yeah, she has.” I pause, then add “And honestly, who would forget something like that?” Beto looks up from his coffee, his eyes meeting mine. “It’s just ... strange. She hasn’t mentioned it once since that night.” I lean back in my chair, my eyes narrowing as I consider this. “Maybe she’s waiting for us to bring it up. Maybe she wants us to initiate the conversation.” Beto shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Lorena. Really don’t know.” Beto sighed

Just then, we heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. Was our mother entering the room. She was dressed in a silk robe, her hair pulled back into a loose bun. She looked tired, but her eyes were alert and focused.

“Why didn’t you wake me up, I have things to do.” She said as she headed for the closet “You know I can’t wake up this late.” Beto and I exchanged a puzzled look, wondering what she meant by that. She grabbed a bottle of wine from the closet and poured herself a glass, taking a sip before speaking again. “So, I’ve been thinking about what you told me, Lorena,” she began, her voice measured and calm. I felt a jolt of surprise, my eyes widening as I looked at her. “You have?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. She nodded, taking another sip of her wine. “Yes. tonight we will have a movie night as a family again!” she declared, her eyes sparkling with an unreadable emotion. Beto and I exchanged another puzzled glance, unsure of where this was going.

“Mom, are you okay?” Beto asked cautiously, his brow furrowed in concern. She waved a dismissive hand, smiling at us. “Oh, I’m fine, darlings. Just a bit tired.

I want us all to be comfortable and relaxed. How does that sound?” she asked, her tone light and casual, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on us.

Beto and I exchanged another bewildered look. This was not the reaction we had been expecting. We had braced ourselves for anger, disgust, maybe even tears. But this? This was something else entirely.

“Mom, are you sure about this?” I asked, my voice hesitant. “I mean, don’t you want to talk about...

what happened?” I pressed gently, trying to gauge her true feelings on the matter. She took another sip of her wine, her eyes meeting mine over the rim of her glass. When she set it down, she let out a soft sigh. “Lorena, I think it’s best if we leave that particular topic alone for now.” Her voice was firm, brooking no argument. I glanced at Beto, who seemed just as taken aback as I was. “But Mom, we can’t just ignore it.

It’s not healthy,” Beto interjected, his brow furrowed in concern. Our mother turned to him, her expression softening. “Beto, sweetheart, I’m not saying we should ignore it forever. I’m just saying that right now, it’s better for all of us if we focus on something else.” She paused, taking another sip of her wine. “Besides, I think it’s important for us to spend some quality time together as a family. Your father will be home soon, and I want us to be able to enjoy each other’s company without any...

complications,” she finished, her eyes flicking briefly between Beto and me. I couldn’t help but notice the slight emphasis she placed on the word ‘complications,’ and a shiver ran down my spine. What exactly did she mean by that?

Beto seemed to be wrestling with the same question, his brow furrowed in thought. “Mom, are you sure you’re okay with this? With us ... being together?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Our mother’s expression softened, and she reached out to pat his cheek affectionately. “Beto, darling, I’m your mother.

I’ve known you both since you were babies. Do you really think I’m so naive that I wouldn’t notice the way you two look at each other? The tension between you is palpable, and it’s been growing for months now.”

Beto and I exchanged a surprised glance. So, she had noticed. Of course, she had. She was our mother, after all.

“But I also know that you’re both good people, with good hearts. And I trust you to handle this situation responsibly,” she continued, her gaze shifting between us.

I cleared my throat, finding my voice. “Mom, are you saying...

that you have my blessing?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Our mother let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, Lorena, always so direct. No, I’m not saying that. What I am saying is that I understand that sometimes, things happen in life that are ... unconventional. And while I may not fully understand or approve of your relationship, I do understand that it exists. And I want you both to be happy.” “But that doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping an eye on you.” She said before giving an amused little laugh.”

“And please, my dears, specifically about this ... don’t do it in public, I know you really like each other but not in public, there could be consequences for that, you know.” She says as she stares at me like a hawk

“No, I don’t understand,” Beto shouted.

“What do you mean, Mom? Are you saying you’re okay with this? With us?” His voice was shaking, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Our mother sighed, setting her wine glass down on the counter with a soft clink. “Beto, I’m not saying I’m okay with it. I’m saying I understand it. There’s a difference.”

“No, darling. I’m not mad at you. I’m worried, yes. Confused, yes.”

“But you know we’re ... you know ... doing that...” I say, trying to make it clear that Beto and I have already had sex. “I know, Lorena. And I’m not judging you. I just want you to be careful. To think about the future, about what this could mean for all of us.” She pauses, taking another sip of her wine. “And besides, it’s not just about you two. There’s your father to think about. And Alex. How do you think they would react if they found out?”

“We haven’t thought about that yet,” Beto admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers nervously. “And what about college applications? Scholarships? Have you thought about how this could affect your futures?” she asked, her voice gentle but firm. I felt a pang of guilt in my chest, realizing that we had indeed been reckless. “No, Mom, we haven’t,” I confessed, my voice heavy with regret.

Beto looked up from his hands, his eyes meeting mine. “I didn’t think so. Look, I’m not here to judge you. I just want you both to be aware of the potential repercussions of your actions.” She paused, her gaze shifting between us. “And I want you to promise me that you’ll be more careful.”

I stop for a moment to analyze the situation, “More careful, Mom? What do you mean?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. She takes a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “I mean, I want you to be discreet. Don’t flaunt your relationship in public. Don’t give people a reason to talk. And most importantly, don’t let it consume you. Remember, you’re still young, you have your whole lives ahead of you. Don’t let this ... situation define you.” Her voice is steady, her gaze unwavering. I nod, understanding her concerns.

“We will, Mom. We promise,” I assure her, glancing at Beto who echoes my sentiment with a firm nod.

She smiles, relieved. “Good. Now, let’s get ready for our movie night. I’ve already picked out a few films.”

As she leaves the kitchen, Beto turns to me, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Did that just happen? Did Mom just give us ... permission?”

I shake my head, still trying to process it myself. “I don’t think she’s giving us permission, exactly. More like ... acceptance.

Understanding, perhaps. But definitely not approval. Not that we need it, I remind myself. We’re adults, capable of making our own decisions. Still, it’s a relief to know that she’s not going to kick us out or disown us. At least, not yet.”

Beto and I exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between us. We’ll take this one step at a time, navigate this new terrain together. For now, that’s enough.

We had our movie night after our father got home from work, and I wondered how he would react to us having that conversation.

We watched a silly horror movie, it was fun. Our mother sat in the middle of us just to make sure we didn’t try anything while our father was there.

Beto and I exchanged glances throughout the movie, trying to stifle our laughter whenever the heroine did something particularly stupid. Our father, engrossed in the film, didn’t seem to notice our silent communication, much less the underlying tension between us.

The movie ended, and our father yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “Well, that was entertaining,” he commented, standing up and turning on the lights. “I’m beat, though. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

Our mother stood up as well, gathering the empty popcorn bowls and soda cans.

It was over, but for us it had only just begun.

The next day we went back to our normal routine, fucking in the morning during the shower and after we got home from school while Mom was busy. It was still fun, it was more than it had ever been. We were fucking, like sibilings with our mother’s permission, that’s just ... exciting ... the week went by and we continued fucking, no longer hidden, only in privacy.

Our mother kept her distance, but I could feel her eyes on us, watching, waiting. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, angry, or just curious. Maybe all three. But she didn’t say anything, and neither did we. We were walking on eggshells, tiptoeing around the elephant in the room. It was exhausting, but it was also exhilarating. Every stolen glance, every brush of skin, every whispered word felt charged with meaning. We were playing with fire, and we both knew it. But we couldn’t stop.

We were addicted to each other, to the thrill of it all. We were dancing on the edge of a knife, and it was intoxicating. One evening, as we lay entwined in my bed, panting and sweaty from our latest encounter, I heard a soft knock at my door. Beto and I froze, our eyes wide with panic. “Who is it?” I called out, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s me,” came our mother’s muffled response. Beto’s eyes widened even further, and he started to scramble for his clothes.

I put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Wait,” I whispered. “She knows.” Beto hesitated, his eyes searching mine. Then, he nodded, understanding my meaning. If she knew, there was no point in hiding anymore. We’d just have to face the music.

“Come in,” I called out, my voice steadier than I felt.

The door creaked open, revealing our mother standing in the doorway. She was still dressed in her work attire, her hair pulled back into a neat bun.

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the rumpled sheets, the discarded clothes, the faint scent of sweat and sex that hung in the air. Beto and I held our breath, waiting for her reaction.

“You two have been busy,” she observed, her voice neutral. Beto and I exchanged a glance, unsure of how to respond. “Um, yeah. Sorry about the mess,” I mumbled, gesturing to the cluttered room. Our mother waved a dismissive hand, stepping further into the room. “Don’t worry about that.

I didn’t come here to clean,” she said, her eyes flicking between Beto and me. “I came to talk.” She paused, her gaze lingering on Beto for a moment before shifting back to me. “Alone.”

Beto looked at me, uncertainty written all over his face. I gave him a small nod, reassuring him that it would be okay. He hesitated for a moment before grabbing his clothes and slipping out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Our mother waited until we heard Beto’s footsteps retreating down the hallway before speaking again.

“Lorena, sit down,” she said, gesturing to the spot beside her on the bed. I complied, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to anticipate what she might say next. She took a deep breath, her eyes searching mine as if trying to find the right words.

“Your father has just left for a trip, I think you already know that. You two didn’t even say goodbye to him, but it’s okay, I gave him some excuse.” She said, trying to get somewhere that I didn’t know until then. “I do a lot to hide you two, especially from your father, and I think it’s time I asked for something in return.” She paused, her eyes holding mine captive. “I want you to listen to me, Lorena. I want you to hear what I have to say.”

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “Okay, Mom. I’m listening.”

She took another deep breath, her fingers twisting the hem of her blouse nervously. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this, about I and your father.” She said with a sigh “Let’s do an exchange, okay? You and your brother can fuck, however you want, wherever you want and whenever you want. Even in front of me if you want to be two perverts” she said with a smirk “But I want something in return.”

I stared at her, shocked and confused. “What do you mean, Mom? What do you want in return?”

She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving mine. “I want you to help me spice up my marriage. Your father and I ... we’ve grown apart. We’ve lost that spark, that passion we once had. And I want it back. I want to feel alive again.”

I blinked, taken aback by her confession. “Mom, I ... I don’t know what to say.

I’m speechless. My mother wants me to help her spice up her marriage? The irony isn’t lost on me, but I’m struggling to wrap my head around it. “I don’t know what to say,” I stammer, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment and discomfort. “I mean, I’m not sure I’m the best person to help with that.”

Our mother lets out a soft sigh, her eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and determination. “I’m not asking you to do anything too much Lorena, just not to see or hear what I do next nights.” She said with a mischievous smile. “What do you mean, Mom?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I mean, I don’t want you to tell your father that I ... well ... had sex with other men while he was away.” She paused, letting the words sink in. I stared at her, my eyes wide with shock. “Mom, are you serious? You want to cheat on Dad?” She nodded, her expression serious. “Yes, Lorena. I do. I want to feel desired, wanted. I want to feel alive again. And I think this is the only way to do it.” I shook my head, still struggling to comprehend her words. “But Mom, what about Dad? Don’t you love him anymore?” I asked, my voice filled with concern.

Our mother sighed, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. “Of course, I love your father, Lorena. I always have. But love isn’t enough to keep a marriage alive, not when the passion has faded. I need more. I need excitement, danger even. Something to make me feel alive again.”

I leaned back against the pillows, absorbing her words. I could understand where she was coming from, in a way. Beto and I had found our own kind of excitement, our own danger. But involving my father in her plan? That was a whole different level.

“What about Dad?

Does he know about this?” Our mother let out a soft sigh, her eyes meeting mine. “No, he doesn’t. And I’d prefer to keep it that way, at least for now.” She paused, her gaze intent. “Which brings me back to my original request. I need you and Beto to keep this to yourselves.” I nodded, understanding her meaning. “And well ... if you tell him anything ... if you tell him my secret, I’ll tell you yours ... deal?” She said with a sad face but full of confidence. I looked at her, her eyes begging me to agree. I knew I couldn’t refuse her, not after everything she had done for us. Not after she had accepted our relationship, even if it was reluctantly. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. “Okay, Mom. I won’t tell Dad. But only if you promise to be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt, either physically or emotionally.” Our mother smiled, relief evident in her eyes. “Thank you, Lorena. I promise, I’ll be careful.”