Copyright© 2003

Edited by Rick (circa 2005)

There once was a gay young Parisian
Who screwed an appendix incision,
And the girl of his choice
Could hardly rejoice
At the horrible lack of precision.

I felt the blood suddenly drain from my face and stared in horror directly across the small round table into my son's eyes. So frozen by what he had just told me that I could not even take my hand from between both of his. My heart seemed to have stopped beating and I felt suddenly dizzy.

What have I done to make him suggest... make him think, he and I could... had I done something wrong?

With great effort on my part, I was able to force my head to turn to see if any of the occupants at the other tables had overheard the proposition that my son had just given me, the words leading up to it. If anyone had heard this demented suggestion I would be horrified, humiliated!

Finally, I pulled my hand from his and realized I was sweating profusely and felt incredibly overheated.

My god, what had gotten into Rob?

"This is not going as I expected mom?"

Again I brought my eyes to his and saw that he too looked more than a little embarrassed, his cheeks bright red. What had he expected - for him and I to... ? My god, how can he think this way? What could I have done while my son was growing up to cause him to think that he and I could ever... ? Even if he was not my son, I could not, ever, act like this.

"And what did you expect Rob?" My voice sounded incredibly cold even to my ears and I could feel the rising anger building within me.

He shrugged and I could not help but see in that movement the adolescent that he had been not so long ago.

Rob slowly brought his cloth napkin to wipe his mouth before answering, "Perhaps 'expected' is the wrong word mom, 'hope' is more accurate."

A thought hit me like a bolt, and I felt suddenly guilty that it had not come earlier, "What of your father Rob?"

He cleared his throat before replying, "I know that you have not been happy... ?"

I leaned over the table and could not hold my fury from boiling to the surface, "What goes on in my marriage is none of your business Rob!"

He looked even more uncertain in the face of my wrath, "I love you mom and I promise I would make you happy."

I had nothing to say for some lengthy moments until I took a swallow of the ice water sweating in the glass before me and demanded, "Take me home Rob. Now!" I reached down to find my purse and immediately stood.

I strode through the dim lit tables as only an angry woman can walk, until I stood outside the expensive restaurant. My god what the hell is going on - my marriage is a disaster, my husband would rather have sex with any young thing that comes his way than make love to his willing wife. My youngest daughter is getting expelled from school, my eldest daughter is talking about leaving college and now Rob... my god what I have I done to bring this on? How can I fix this?

The tears began to well up behind my eyes and I took a deep breath to still them - I can not show weakness now. Not in front of the son that I once considered the dearest gift any mother could ask for. Now he was... what?

This night had been the focus of my whole week - my beautiful son was going to take me out to an exclusive restaurant. Hell, I had even bought a new dress and spent an hour on my hair and makeup! He had phoned me a week ago and asked me if he could take the prettiest woman in town on a date and I had felt playfully proud and joyfully responded in earnest. I mean he had always complimented me on my looks and been liberal with small intimate touches and hugs - yet I never once imagined... !

When was the last time my husband, Rob's father, had told me that I was beautiful or had asked me to dress in something sexy and take me out for a night on the town just for the hell of it? Rob had been right, damn it, that his father and I were married in name only, yet how could Rob conjure up the things he spoke to me of only minutes before is just incredible.

My only son came out of the wide double doors of the restaurant and mumbled something about the valet bringing his car around in a minute. I just stood looking anywhere but toward him. Rob's sports car finally arrived and I caught the young valet take a generous look at my legs, the hem of my skirt higher that it has been in many years. With the door closed I suddenly felt humiliated - a stupid old woman that was both naive and simple minded.

My son had always complimented me on my legs and even my bottom - often whistling as a compliment if I wore any type of skirt that was above the knees. As infrequent as that was. No, tonight was supposed to be special and the hem of the skirt was higher than I ever remember wearing. Why not, I had thought earlier - I knew I was no beauty, never had been, but I was cute in a petite small sort of way. My son's compliments had initially been taken in jest, but I came to rely on my son's pleasure in his mother's looks. Of course I never considered his pleasure was anything but pride in his cute mother.

Rob slipped into the car and after buckling in, started to drive carefully and defensively, even though I know he would rather zoom down the road like he was in a race. He drove like this whenever I was in the car - as I said, he was... is... a very caring son.

I turned my head only enough so that I could see my son out the corner of my eye. He was sitting in the shadowed light clenching his teeth with his lips set tightly.

Perhaps I had handled this wrong.

I mean, I could have just calmly denied him these... delusions... and brought him back to a reality where I was his mother and he my adult son. Instead I had made a scene at the restaurant and then stormed out of there like a stupid spoilt teenager.

Well, it had been a shock after all. How often does a woman get told by her only son that he wanted to 'make love' to her?

You have to believe me that I had no idea he felt this way about me!

"Rob... ?"

He just starred straight ahead as I now faced him with my head fully turned. "Rob pull over please."

There was a unlit huge parking lot in the next block, that he pulled into and put his sports car into park.

"I'm sorry I overreacted like that." He is my loving son - the proudest thing in my dismal life. I had to fix this, make him see reason, practically - let alone morally.

Rob's hands dropped from the steering wheel and his chin dropped to his chest, his defiance melting before my eyes. Finally he whispered, "I'm sorry too mom - I never meant to hurt you."

"I know that honey." I did too. From whatever delusions that Rob lived in, he did love me - that I was sure of. Hell, it was the only thing that I had been sure of for many a year.

I just had to ask, "When did you start... feeling this way toward me?" It took a lot of effort to keep my voice calm as I asked that. He remained silent with his head hung so I stated, "It's OK honey." I wanted to know what I did to make him deluded in this way - had he seen his father and I making love? Or perhaps it was the skimpy bathing suit I used to wear sun tanning in the backyard when he was a teenager? What kind of mother does not consider what the sight of her own flesh may do to her adolescent son, as I had done? I even remember being privately proud that the only male to see me in that suit could barely take his eyes off the curves of my near-naked flesh - how naive could I have been?

There was several minutes of silence before he began, "I overheard dad on the phone in his study when I was fourteen."

The answer took me by surprise - what did a phone call his father have to do with this... us?

"He was talking suggestively... about doing things... and I thought he was talking to you."

Oh my god, that bastard was talking to one of his girlfriends from home and his teenage son had overheard him?

How had this turned him toward me though? "Keep going Rob, its OK honey I know about your father." Of course he knew about his father - I think all my kids know about his many, and frequent, girlfriends - but it was an unspoken secret in our house.

Rob lifted his head but still would not meet my eyes as he continued, "He was talking about tying her up and playing with her... until she was begging him. I thought it was pretty cool, him talking to you like that... but when he finished the call he called her 'Lucile'... !" My name is Sally. "Something just snapped and I could not understand why he would not talk to you like that rather than some other woman - not want to do those things to you mom." He head finally had turned and our eyes met.

This still did not tell me what I needed to know. I placed my palm upon his thigh, completely innocent of course, and nodded for him to continue.

Rob shrugged, "I started to look at you differently after that - comparing you to other girls I knew, realizing how beautiful you are." I could not help but sigh - here was the most innocent statement of a man finding pleasure in my looks and I was vain enough, and desperate enough, to find pleasure in it. More than once I had stood naked before my full-length mirror, in the privacy of my bedroom, and tried to see the beauty that my son claimed he saw within me, when I saw only an aging plain woman. A pleasure, and even a sort of need, for my son's compliments and lingering looks grew as he passed adolescence into adulthood. Now, though, I felt like a liar - to my own self - and a fool.

Rob heard the sigh and turned toward me in surprise, and it only stopped his story for barely a second. "I knew that dad was cheating on you and in some way that only made me mad. That you were a beautiful woman and he seemed blind to that fact and so I was angry that you were... neglected." Rob looked at me boldly for a second. "It was then that I started to think that I could make you happy... how I could make you happy."

My head turned to look out the tinted window of the car and tried to hold back the tears as I brought up my hands to cover my lower face. It was the testimony of my adult life - how messed up my marriage was and how that seemed to warp the only beautiful thing in my life, my son. Until this night, he was the proudest thing in my life and I would have done anything to make him happy. I would not have done that though... !

Could I?

A big strong hand gently lay down upon my smooth, soft, nylon covered thigh and Rob leaned toward me, "Its OK mom. You made your position plain tonight and I promise that I will never bring it up again." What he was saying is that he loved me enough to just sit back and see me lonely and in a loveless marriage and it endeared him to me even more. Yet Rob was right - something had to change, I have been so unhappy with my marriage, and life in general, for far too long.

I turned back to my son and placed my open palm on top of his over my lap and gave it a loving squeeze. These little touches of his had always been innocent to me - but now I knew that they are anything but. Yet I had considered them important in my life, a young man that I needed to hold, touch... and just generally be near. How naive had I been?

It could never be so again between us.

I had no idea what to say but my lips finally moved after great effort, "I love you Rob."

He smiled sweetly and gave my thigh a firm, unmistakable, squeeze, "I love you too mom." How many times in the last years had he squeezed my thigh this way? Yet, this time I felt it to every centimetre of my body like a small electrical shock.