Nathan's Mom

Boredom is a powerful force, one that bends your mind like heat warping glass, softening what’s ethical or sane until every edge shimmers and runs. That day, I was waiting for my mother on a splintery green bench in Fairview Park, rehearsing my smile for when she saw me before she saw what I was doing. She didn’t know about the profile I’d made for her, or the photos I’d found in her closet, or the fact that her “suitor” had already been rescheduled three times and that the fourth would never actually arrive. She didn't know, in other words, how much I enjoyed orchestrating her disappointment in advance.

She rounded the curve in blue heels, clicked to a perfect halt, and scanned the empty path with all the coiled anticipation of a housecat at an open window. My cock grew hard at the way her face set itself, braced for pleasure she feared as much as craved, a look I’d watched since I was young enough to hide under tables and spy her through the angled legs of bored grownups, desperate for someone to notice how badly she needed to be humiliated.

Tonight was going to be so much fun.

"Hi, Mom," I called, standing. I kept the tone light, almost rehearsed, because that was how she liked her reality, as plausible as her makeup and just as easy to wipe away if things got messy.

She started, eyes wide, and then relaxed into the sly, self-erasing smile that came standard issue for mothers of sons like me. "Nathan," she said, holding her purse like a shield. "You startled me!"

"Surprised to see you here. The park isn’t exactly the safest place for a woman on her own," I lied, digging my hands in my pockets to hide what was threatening to tent the front of my jeans. "Good thing I happen to be here to keep you safe."

“Oh.” Disappointment and panic warred in her eyes. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. I was just… taking a quick exercise.”

“Then I’ll walk with you,” I said, throwing my arm around her shoulder and pulling her down the path. “And it’s no inconvenience, honestly. What kind of son would I be if I let my mother get assaulted because I wanted to rush home and play Xbox?”

The night was humid, vulturing its way into all the wrinkled places between us. We walked side by side, my mother’s perfume caking the air with citrus and guilt. Birds shrieked at dusk, drowning in the chatter of their own pack; but the park was empty, really, just me and my mother and the fake rendezvous waiting for her at a café that did not exist.

She slowed as we passed the little Japanese bridge, peering at the black water with the blank interest of someone who didn’t remember what it meant to want anything. I let the silence stretch until it felt like a noose and then, with careful aim, loosened it. Her eyes shot through the area, searching for her “date.”

“So. What brings you to this part of town?” I said, pretending I didn’t know, pretending she’d not been meticulously baited by three weeks of anonymous messages from an ‘admirer’ on a swingers’ app.

Mom cut her eyes at me, a flash of something raw before she covered it. “Just a walk,” she lied. Her voice held a note of self-doubt, whiskey-smooth but thin at the finish. “Like I said, I just decided I would take some exercise.”

“Could have walked the block at home,” I pointed out. I tugged on her arm to lead her off of the bridge. “Really, Mom. You have to be more careful about things.” I stopped by the next bench and dug out my phone. “Hang on, I need to let someone know I’m running late.”

A moment after I sent the text, her phone dinged. I waited while she read it. Watched the disappointment and relief in her face. “Dad want to know what’s for dinner?” I suggested.

“What?” Mom looked up as she slid her phone back in her purse. “Oh. Yes. Pork roast.”

I spun on my heal, peering into the curtain of foliage behind the trail. “Did you hear something, Mom?” I took a step. Then another. I reached for her hand and pulled her with me. “I thought someone needed help.” I turned a worried face to her. “Mom, we have to check it out. I can’t leave you here alone. But, if someone got robbed or raped…”

“I… uh…” Mom trailed behind me as I stepped between trees. “I don’t hear anything, dear.”

“There it is again,” I said, drawing up and pointing a little off to the right. “Come on, Mom. Someone needs us.”

A few dozen steps and we broke through to a small clearing. I’d left a few coils of rope behind the big oak tree on the far side. Pulling Mom along, I strode to the center of the open space.

“I could have sworn I heard something,” I said. Then, turning to face my mother, I ...