Chapter 6

In the master bedroom, Celia sat on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Visions of teens engaging in sexual activity flashed across her thoughts. First Claire, now Melody. It was peculiar. After all her efforts to exclude John from their games, she was now fuming over his apparent decision to ignore her.

That was unfair. “How can he forgive them but not forgive me?” her brain protested.

She started sobbing.

The soft thump of Melody’s door shutting startled her. Mel had returned to her bedroom, signaling that their session had concluded.

A few minutes later, she got out of bed and walked out. She cautiously unlocked John’s door after a cursory check of her reflection in the hallway mirror. She saw him, shirtless, sprawled out on the bed under the dim light.

John had his eyes closed. Despite his exhaustion after the intense sex session, he was startled to hear the door open. He had a gut feeling that this was not Melody. Instead of opening his eyes, he remained motionless and silent.

He felt Celia kneeling next to his bed, and one second later, her hand gently grasped his member. Her soft, moist mouth then engulfed his penis. He just lost himself in the sensations; he didn’t object.

Celia knew he was not thinking about her, but she didn’t care. She focused on her cleaning task, and eventually a weak stream of whitish liquid rewarded her. Once she had finished cleansing John’s cock with her lips and tongue, she rose up, stared disappointed at his expressionless face, kissed him on the forehead, and silently left.

Not once had John opened his eyes.

It was early afternoon. Resting on the couch, Melody was engrossed in a movie. Celia sat next to her.

“Can we talk, honey?”

Melody grinned. “Yes, Mom. What’s that?”

Celia tried to keep her tone neutral, not accusing. “I saw you having sex with John last night.”

Melody smiled. “Yes. I was horny, and he was available.”

Her mother looked at her skeptically. “What? Didn’t he ask you?”

“No. I went to his room and sat on him. I asked him if he would like to have sex with a beautiful stranger, and he accepted.”

“A stranger?” Celia asked, surprised.

“Yes, mom.” Melody stated. “At that moment, I was not his sister. All we were was two random people trying to satisfy an urge. I would have loved to think it was something more, but the truth is that it wasn’t.”

Celia was disheartened. Last night, she had believed that John had softened his attitude towards Melody, and maybe he would do the same towards her.

“Perhaps I can use that same approach,” she said.

Melody looked at her with concern. “Oh, Mom. I really don’t think you should do that.” Before Celia could say something, she rushed. “I’m not saying you’re not attractive, but I think that it’s not what you want.”

“What do you mean?” Celia asked.

Melody sighed. It was a new territory for her, trying to choose her words carefully before uttering them. She didn’t want to hurt her mom, but she knew she would hurt her anyway. “Mom, I’m not blind. I can sense the burden you carry. We all bear a burden due to the way we treated John, but your burden is greater than any of ours because you bear the primary responsibility for it.”

Celia sighed. “Yes, I carry the burden of guilt. They are guilty of trusting me; I’m guilty of lying.” Her face twitched but remained silent. She didn’t want to interrupt Melody.

“You can’t get what you want from John through sex. Yes, if you go upstairs and fuck him, he will welcome it, but only on a physical level. And that’s not what you want or need.”

“Strange,” Celia thought. “My daughter has far more depth in her than what everybody thinks.” That was a common experience for many cheerleaders. People often focused on their outward outlook and paid little attention to their inner thoughts or emotions. Even parents can be guilty of this, sometimes.

“You need for him to forgive you. You need him to make love with you, not just have sex with you. You need him wanting to make love with you. And he won’t make love to a stranger.” Celia looked into her mom’s eyes. “If you have sex with him right now, you will be hurt by his indifference.”

Celia’s shoulders sagged. She knew her daughter was right. Even now, after her night blowjobs, John’s attitude had not changed. He had told her so himself. Even worse, should he turn down her advances, the pain and humiliation would be soul-crushing.

“Mom, do you want me to comfort you?” Melody asked, her hand touching Celia’s bare knee. “Dad isn’t here, and I think right now you need some love.”

“You’re so perceptive,” Celia answered, with a sad smile. “Just don’t expect too much enthusiasm.”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Melody smiled. “This time will be just for you.”

Both women walked hand in hand to the main bedroom. It wouldn’t be a crazy sex session, but they would share the reassurance they needed.

Later that day, Celia was once more lying on the bed, her sweaty body attesting to their previous lovemaking.

She had instructed Melody to take care of dinner; she was not hungry. Still not strong enough to stand up and walk to the shower, her brain, soothed by the show of love that it had received, started to think. After some internal debate, she made a decision. Then her eyes closed, and she fell asleep.

When Patrick arrived home that evening, Celia was waiting for him.

“Honey, we need to talk.” Celia almost laughed upon Patrick’s reaction. Those five words were the curse of every husband everywhere. “It’s about John,” she rushed to add. She could see the relief in his face.

“Of course, Dear. What is it?” he asked.

She took him to their bedroom and shut the door. They sat on the bed.

“Patrick, I don’t think this situation is going to improve by itself. We need to take drastic measures.”

“I agree on that. What have you thought?”

“I think ... I think we need to tell John the truth.”

Frank mulled it over. “Have you given the consequences any thought?”

“Yes, Honey. I have. Right now, we’re simply postponing the inevitable. John plans to change his last name and cut all ties with us. At least, if we are open and show him that we are repentant, there is hope to keep him in our lives.”

“You may be right. But how do we do it? We can’t just say, ‘Hey son, guess what? I’m not your dad’.”

Celia smiled. “Of course not. We have to do it in a way to reassure him that we love him just like we love his siblings.”

“But do we?” Patrick looked at her in the eyes. “Until now, we have shown him otherwise.”

Celia’s eyes filled with tears. “I know, right?” She hid her face with her hands. “I was an idiot. I blamed him for something that wasn’t his fault; this is my blunder.” She cast a challenging glance at Patrick. “But he’s my son. I won’t lose my son.”