Oliver's Mom

All it took was a stutter from the front door hinge and I was a ghost again in Mother's house before dawn. My key still fit, and I carefully locked the door behind me. Walked softly, shoes leaving no prints in the thin layer of dust. It was familiar, the darkness here: the hush of not-quite-home, the stagnant chill of unspoken words. I crept up the staircase the way I once did, years ago, after long evenings I wasn’t supposed to have, but now she was the one who would hide, and I would be the endless, nagging reminder of all she never wanted to admit.

The shower water started five minutes after I entered. She ran it cold first, always, a sharp gasp to her system, evidence of her Protestant self-flagellation, the pep talk of suffering she believed kept her young. I waited on the landing. There were no voices downstairs, no Dad for nearly seven years now, not even the radio at a murmur. Just the staccato hiss behind the half-jammed bathroom door. The world outside faded each time the house shuddered with a pulse of water, steam rising like anxiety’s breath around my ankles.

There was maybe one minute between shampoo and rinse cycle when I eased the door open. The mirror above the sink was white with a hot, rolling fog, the air dense enough to slick my lips and make my tongue stick. She was a blur at first, arms up around her head, working conditioner in. I took three steps forward and leaned my hip against the heated towel rack, arms folded. I wanted her to see me right away, no chance for composure, her surprise amplified by the slap of cold air I let in. She was turned away, and I watched hungrily as the bony knobs of her spine moved and stilled, moved and stilled. She was smaller than I remembered.

She shut off the tap, pried her hair with both fists, slick and kelp-green in that light. When she turned and realized I wasn't a trick of her mind, she froze, naked, her wetness ruined by her own involuntary shudder. She looked like a statue of shock, mouth open, eyes round and wet, nipples drawn tight against a sagging breast. In the days when she still had power over me, she’d have covered herself instantly, seized a towel, closed the door. Now, she just watched.

"Oliver?" she croaked. Her voice was too thick; she swallowed, tried again. "What in God's name?"

"Morning, Ma." I couldn't keep the smile from my voice, so I didn’t bother. "You want the towel, or are we past that now?"

She reached for it anyway, but I was quicker. My hand shot out, caught her wrist before she could try anything, and I pushed the bathroom door firmly shut behind me. "Don’t. Just don’t," I said. I pulled her body against mine, letting my hand run the length of her spin before I cupped her ass. “I’ll hurt you if I have to. Do you believe me?”

Her eyes went round with fear. I felt a shiver, though it might have been the chill of wet skin. Mouth open, she nodded.

“Things haven’t exactly been good between us for a while,” I said, one hand gripping the back of her neck. My other hand pulled on her ass, lifting her body towards me. “I’m going to shake things up. I don’t know that it will make things better… well, not for you. But it’s going to be different.”

“What are you doing?” Mom’s voice was soft, horrified. She twisted slightly, as if suddenly aware my hand was on her ass. “Oliver…”

“It isn’t what I’m going to do,” I told her. “It’s what you’re going to do.” I lifted my hand and brought it down hard on her ass. “Put your hands on my shoulders so I can give your ass a good warming.” When she hesitated, I shouted, “Do it!”

I stared into Mom’s eyes as her palms rested on my shoulder. She winced in anticipation as I lifted my hand again. I hit her, hard. The hand on her neck tightened, pulling her against me so I could spank her bare ass hard and fast.

“Stop moving around,” I hissed. “Remember what you told me? The more you jump around, the longer it’s going to last. Take your punishment, Mom.”

“You aren’t punishing me,” she snapped, whimpering at the impact of my hand on her ass. “You’re just beating me.”

“You’re right,” I said. I swung her to face the mirror, ramming her thighs against the counter of the vanity. I yanked the belt from around my hips and shook it out. “And you’re going to ...