Chapter 96

7 p.m. Friday

Camille sat on the couch, her eyes scanning over the Kindle in her hands. She was reading the words but her mind was on other things. She had spent most of the previous hour on the phone - with Evan, with Robert, even with Regan and Rita. The one person she hadn't spoken to was her son.

She was humiliated that everyone seemed to know what she'd done in the bedroom - and what she'd said to her son. But she was also perversely pleased that so many people had expressed concern for Andy - and for her. No one had made crude jokes or snide comments. No one had even seemed appalled that she'd taken nude pictures of herself - and then made such coarse remarks to Andy about it.

They had been sympathetic and supportive of both mother and son - and that was something neither was used to.

But Andy hadn't called - and she hadn't been able to bring herself to call him. She guessed that everyone had given him the same advice they'd offered to her - they needed to acknowledge it happened and move forward. That suggestion had proven easier in theory than in practice. Each time she had resolved to call Andy, she had put the phone down before she dialed. She figured it had been the same from his side of the equation.

She didn't understand why this was difficult. They had discussed difficult subjects before. She had been the one to explain sex to Andy in the first place. She had found the dirty sock he'd used for clean up when he first started to jerk off. He had washed her underwear for the past five years so he knew she was no stranger to arousal.

She decided that those things were on the periphery. There had always been an unspoken line that neither dared to cross. She didn't ask when he started to have sex (although she suspected) and he didn't ask how she relieved her frustration. Now the genie was out of the bottle and there was no putting it back.

She was 37 years old and in a sexual relationship for the first time in 18 years. There, she thought, she finally said it to herself. No, she corrected in her mind. She was in a healthy, nurturing relationship that included sex. She didn't just pick a man up in a bar in order to have sex (although she'd done that once when Andy was six years old). She had loved Evan since she was 18 - and he was Andy's father.

Rita (and Regan) had told her that there was nothing wrong with what she'd done. Her only mistake was failing to check the Caller ID on her phone before she answered it.

And, she admitted to herself, that had been a major league blunder.

Camille scrambled off the couch when she heard the distinctive beep of a keycard going through the reader outside of the suite's door. She raced down the hallway to her bedroom as the door opened.

"It's just me, Mom," Andy called down the hall.

Camille knew who it was. Housekeeping and room service would never enter without knocking several times. Andy was the only person in three time zones (outside of Camille) with a keycard. Part of Camille's flight was to give her a chance to compose her thoughts before facing Andy. The other part was because of how she was dressed.

She hadn't dreamed that Andy would show up at the hotel without calling first. In fact she had asked Robert to let Andy know it was fine with her if he stayed elsewhere that night.

She wore only a pair of gray, form-fitting yoga pants (that reminded her of the stirrup pants she had loved as a teenager) and a white sports bra after deciding that comfort was more important than style since she was home alone.

She definitely did not want to talk to her son about inappropriate sexual comments while her nipples were poking through the fabric of her bra and her pubic mound was visible to anyone who cared to look.

She pulled a T-shirt out of the drawer and threw it on when Andy knocked at the bedroom door. The shirt was too short to cover her crotch but Camille was certain Andy's eyes wouldn't stray that far southward.

"It's OK, Mom," Andy said through the wooden portal. "I'm not traumatized or anything."

Camille opened the door and stood face-to-face with her offspring.

She lowered her eyes and shook her head.

"I am really sorry about all of this," she said.

Andy's eyes were on the floor, too.

"It's fine," he said. "You don't need to apologize. It was ... a mistake."

"The whole idea was a mistake," Camille said, opening the door to admit her son. She glanced back at the bed and changed her mind. "Let's go out front and talk."

Andy nodded and led the way down the hall.

"The idea wasn't a bad one," Andy said, forcing himself to look at his mother's face.

"I'm too old for that stuff," Camille interrupted. "And I'm damned sure old enough to know better!"

"First of all, you're not too old for anything you want to do," Andy told her. "It was fun and harmless."

"And none of your business until I dragged you into it," Camille added.

"Well, yeah," Andy said. "I can't argue with you there. Look ... Regan pointed out a few things to me and, after some reflection, I guess I agree with her."

Camille shifted her face to the side - the popular Tilted Head of Inquisition.

"I didn't agree with her at first," Andy said, smiling at his mother. As he drove over, he wasn't positive he would ever be able to even look at her again, let alone have a light moment in her presence. "But she can be persuasive when she tries."

"What did she say?" Camille asked, wondering if her arguments to Andy were the same she'd tried on Camille.

"Well, she pointed out that ... given our unique circumstances now and in the past ... we've known this sort of thing happens," Andy said, now unable to look at his mother. "We pretended that we didn't know or didn't care or didn't ... whatever. But we knew."

Camille found herself looking in the same direction as Andy - at a wall but not at him.

"Yes," she agreed reluctantly. "We knew."

"And it isn't that I haven't noticed that you and Evan are... ," Andy said, letting the sentence trail off.

"Intimate," Camille supplied.

Andy's gaze was still on a terrible picture of a vase of flowers but he nodded.

"I was going to say 'doing it, ' but yeah," he said.

"And it isn't as though I haven't noticed that you and Regan are intimate," she told him.

"Yeah," Andy said. He scratched his nose and let his hand continue upward until it ran through his hair.

"So, we both know the other is in a relationship that involves sexual activity," Camille stated.

"And we both know that ... the other has relieved sexual frustration individually from time to time," Andy said, his face the color of a fire engine.

Camille's face was crimson, as well, but she nodded.

"Yes," she said. "I suspected that we both arrived at that realization the summer you turned 13."

Andy gulped but nodded. He commanded his neck muscles to force his face toward his mother - but they didn't comply.

"Robert and Evan both told me those sorts of revelations often happen about that time," Andy said. "So I suppose it can't be a surprise that it happened to us then."

Camille found herself smiling. Evan had related to her the story of walking in to find a very naked Anne having sex with his father on parlor couch one afternoon when he was in his early teens.

"Yes, Evan mentioned a similar incident to me," Camille admitted.

"And Robert told me his mother caught him ... with a magazine when he was 14," Andy replied. "He told me that I could tell you that so don't think I'm betraying a secret."

"No," Camille said. "I know you better than that."

"Good," Andy said. This time his brain overrode his balky muscles and he found himself looking at his mother again. "The thing is ... for everything we've shared over the years ... sex is something we've never really discussed in depth. Regan was ... surprised to learn that because of how close we are. I don't really know why we didn't - except for the fact that this is embarrassing the hell out of both of us."

"That's part of it," Camille agreed. "Sex was always ... dirty."

"No it isn't," Andy cut in. "I mean, yeah, it can be but it doesn't have to be."

"That isn't what I'm saying," Camille told him. "When I was growing up, sex - in any form - was dirty. It was dirty to think about it. It was dirty to talk about it. It was dirty to do it. Andy, it was dirty to even touch yourself. I've tried to ensure that I haven't passed along anything to you that I learned as a child. The problem is ... well, I'm not exactly experienced in that portion of life. So, we just muddled along and pretended that I didn't do the sort of thing I told you about and you didn't do the sort of thing that led to stains on your old socks."

"Oh, God," Andy said, putting his head in his hands again.

"I'm sorry to bring up this afternoon again," Camille told him.

"No, it's fine," Andy said, keeping his head in his hands but shaking it. "I thought ... I thought I threw the sock away. I ... I didn't know that you had found it. God, Mom, I'm so sorry."

"You'd walked around with a boner for six weeks," Camille said, laughing to try to lighten the mood. "You either had to do that or it was going to break off."

Andy shook his head again but lifted his head upward, his hands tracing down his scarlet cheeks. Camille let out a sigh and opted to plow ahead.

"I was sitting at work one Saturday when it occurred to me that you were likely, at that very moment, washing the panties that I'd had on the day before when I had done the same thing we're talking about," she said, the blush that hadn't left since Andy's arrival deepening again.

"I could have taken those to school and sold them for enough money to buy a new car," Andy joked to hide his chagrin. "Like I said, we both know it happens and that's not why I was embarrassed. At first, it was the thought of you taking pictures of ... that."

"Let's call it what it is," Camille said. "I masturbated this afternoon."

"Yeah, I got that part," Andy said, his eyes glancing toward the picture again. "And I'm OK with euphemisms if you are."

"We're both adults - or nearly so - so we should be able to talk about this without resorting to code words," Camille said, wondering if she was telling the truth.

Andy closed his eyes and nodded.

"So, I'm OK with what you did," Andy said. "I'm even OK with you sending the pictures out - but be careful when you do that. OK?"

"I was terrified that I'd sent them to you by mistake," Camille admitted. "Your number is the one I call most frequently and ... I wasn't really thinking clearly. Are you angry that I sent them to Evan?"

Andy blinked and gave his best impression of one of Camille's mannerisms. He didn't understand the question.

"No," he answered. "I mean, if you're going to send them anywhere, I think he'd be the person I preferred."

"Then, outside of how I answered the phone, what are you concerned about?" Camille asked.

"I think it was just a shock to me," Andy said as he put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "I've ... Look, I found out that last week that Robert and Rita have a very active sex life. I thought it was funny. Now that I realize that you also have a very active sex life, it's not so amusing to me. Then Evan sent me a picture and I guess I understood it better."

"He what?!" Camille said, standing quickly - despite the fact it put her crotch only half a foot from Andy's eyes.

"The first one!" Andy said quickly. He pulled out his phone and put the photo on the screen. "The one where you're dressed up. That's all he sent."

Camille set down heavily in the chair and realized her hands were shaking.