I had no idea if Mom had ever dated before meeting Dad. Was she a virgin? Had she been with another man?
And if she needed sex, why hadn't she gone out with anyone else after Dad?
I was sitting on the couch, feeling miserable and drunk, when I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to kiss my mom.
Mom, do you want to watch the news? I asked.
Oh no, not tonight, she replied. I've had a wonderful day and don't want to spoil it with a bunch of scary news. Do you want to find something silly to watch before we go to bed?
I pressed the remote control and the TV went dark. Actually, Mom, there was something I wanted to do first.
I slid my right arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards me. She looked at me surprised as I lowered my head towards hers and kissed her. And kept kissing her.
Her lips felt full, warm, soft, and tasted like wine, and I moved my mouth against hers, sliding the tip of my tongue between her lips.
This all happened in about five seconds, which was the time it took for my mom to realize that her son was giving her a French kiss and push me away with a stifled cry and look at me with open eyes.
What are you doing, Michael? she asked, really not expecting me to return the kiss and us embracing passionately. Her reaction had been more or less what I expected.
I dropped my head in a gesture of regret. I'm sorry, Mom, I just... At that moment, I got up and ran out of the room, upstairs to my bedroom where I stayed gasping to release the tension, aware that I had crossed some kind of line and things could go very wrong.
But my plan was to try to kiss Mom and if she rejected me, disappear into bed and have a conversation with her the next morning. I suppose I expected the wine to suppress her inhibitions a bit, but I guess you can't overcome all taboos with a couple of supermarket Merlot cups.
What I didn't expect was for Mom to come into my room, which she did just after I washed my teeth, got into bed and turned off the lights.
She knocked softly on the door and I told her to enter. She came in and sat down on the edge of the bed, and I lit the lamp on the nightstand, partly to see what kind of expression was on her face, but it was neutral.
Michael, what happened tonight? I know we had a couple of cups of wine, but you tried to kiss me. She seemed more perplexed than angry. I took a deep breath.
There's something I need to talk to you about, Mom.
Okay.
This is going to sound terrible, but last Sunday when we were playing soccer with the guys, I came home because I had forgotten my cell phone. I was in my nightstand and went upstairs to look for it and you were on the chaise longue and you were... you had your hand on the bikini and... well... you saw me.
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