When I turn around to leave, Mother is behind me, blocking my exit. The brick-red color on her lips catches my eye. Her tongue slides out and slowly licks them.
“I have something for you, John.” She holds a cocktail glass in her hand and extends it toward me. The liquid inside is caramel-colored.
My shoulders sag. I was hoping for a different drink.
“It’s not what you think,” she whispers into my ear, making me tremble.
I take it and smell it. The predominant smell is scotch, but something is mixed with it. I sip it. Lingering under the familiar taste of the booze is the cloyingly sweet flavor of the nectar of the gods.
I can’t control myself and gulp it down, savoring every last drop.
“What do you say, John?” She extends her hand to take the glass back.
I sigh contentedly. My whole body relaxes. “Thank you, Mother.”
“Now go back to bed.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Sleep well.” She kisses my forehead.
4
Saturday
As I begin to stir from sleep, someone strokes me through the fabric of my boxer briefs.
“Mother,” I say softly.
“What? No.” The hand stops. “What kind of dream were you having, John?”
I recognized the strained voice of Meisha and inwardly groan. Why did Mother have me bring her here? She’s only getting in the way.
A little voice in the back of my mind whispers that I’ve never wanted to be away from Meisha since we started dating. I tell it to shut up.
I crave Mother.
She’s the only one who can take care of me now and give me what I desire. What I need.
I open my eyes. Meisha is staring at me.
“Sorry. It was a really weird, uncomfortable dream. This place takes me back.”
Her eyes narrow. “You didn’t sound uncomfortable.”
“It was just a dream.”
She slides her leg across me until she is straddling me. Normally the sight of her sitting atop me in her cream lacy cami and matching panties would be enough to get me excited. Today, that’s not the case.
I feel nothing. No extra blood makes its way to my groin.
Her hands slide across my chest. “I mean,” she bites her lip, “unless that’s something you want to try. Do you want to call me mother?” She draws out the last word in a quiet, sultry manner.
“Nope.” This is too much. I push Meisha to the side, back onto the bed, and sit up.
“John. I was only joking.”
“I know. I just need,” more of that elixir, “some coffee. And my stomach is a little upset. Some eggs sound really good.”
“Oh. Okay.” The disappointment in her voice is apparent.
Something rustles from across the room. I realize I’ve almost forgotten my son is just a few feet away.
“Sounds like Johnny’s waking up. Why don’t I change him and get him dressed, and you go start some coffee and eggs?” Meisha gets up and puts on a robe.
“Yeah. That sounds like a plan.” I quickly pull on a shirt and some pants and retreat from the stifling room. Once I close the door behind me, I feel as if I can breathe again. As much as I love my family, only Mother can give me what I require right now.
I pad down the hallway and glance into the study as I pass by. The glimmering bottles of scotch call to me, but they can’t fulfill the intense, burning urges within me.
“Where are you, Mother?” I whisper. “I need you.” The embarrassing whine in my voice is unmistakable and makes me blush. Who am I even talking to? What insanity has taken hold of my brain?
“Go make your coffee, John.” The words float through the air to my ears. I spin around, looking hopefully for their owner, but there is no one.
My heart sinks in my chest. I feel deep disappointment. Scotch could be a fitting consolation prize. As I think about turning and making a detour into the study, my cheek burns where it was whipped last night. The phantom message is clear. I’ve been given my orders, and I am to obey.
Now the booze teases me as I walk past it. I recall the delicious cocktail from the evening before that only Mother can provide. This is what I crave with not just my body, but my soul.
I pull the pitcher from the old-fashioned coffee maker and fill it with water. I may need a lot of coffee today to make it through with my family.
