Go Ahead, Keep Going! Pt. 03 - Sex Stories

Go Ahead, Keep Going! Pt. 03

... me.

"Nah."

"Well anyway, I'm all out of hot fries."

I looked down at the bag in her hand and it was empty. "Holy Jesus in heaven, Alice."

Moments later I pushed open the front door and we walked inside. As soon as we entered the living room we could hear an eerie wail echoing through the house. It was the sound of someone crying."Is that Mom?" I asked.

"Who else would it be?" said Alice.

My sister and I followed the sound into the kitchen. Our mother was sitting at the table, her face buried in her hands, sobbing inconsolably. Her hair was still unwashed and she hadn't changed out of her nightgown yet. It was very unlike our mother to be undressed at this hour, but this morning was different. She was mourning a relationship.

"The bastard," she cried.

"What happened, Mom?" I asked.

She heaved out another sob and lowered her hands, looking up at us with a tortured expression, her eyes red and puffy with tears.

"He was cheating on me," she said. "With another woman, and he LIED about it."

"Seriously?"

She nodded, her face scrunching up in a grief-stricken landscape of regret.

"How do you know that?" asked Alice. My sister's hands were clenched into fists. I was getting angry too. Rage welled up inside me like a brewing earthquake.

"His phone," Mom said. She covered her face in her hands again and resumed sobbing. "I looked at his phone. While he was in the shower."

"Oh, goddammit," I said. "Mom, I'm sorry. That's really ...

... terrible."

"I know."

"Rat bastard!" Alice shouted. "Warned you about him!" My sister turned and bolted out of the kitchen. We heard her footsteps stomping up the old staircase and her bedroom door slammed shut. The house shook with the force of it.

"She'll be okay," I said. "She's angry on your behalf."

I pulled up a chair and joined my mother at the table, sitting down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. I held her close. Gradually the sobbing became less intense and her convulsions less violent. She leaned her head into mine and stroked my chest with her fingers.

"Sorry I didn't make breakfast," Mom said, her voice still trembling.

I kissed her on the cheek. "Oh, don't worry about that, Mom. We're adults, we can make our own breakfast."

She pulled away from me and looked around at the messy table. It was covered in dishes and coffee mugs. "I forgot to swing by Walgreens and pick up Alice's Ritalin too. I'm just a bad mom all around."

"No you're not," I insisted. "You're the PERFECT mom. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise."

She looked into my eyes and smiled lovingly. Even in such a damaged state, she was still a beautiful woman. Her hair, dark like my sister's, hung loosely around her elegant face and glimmering green eyes. Her skin was pale and smooth, her frame slender and motherly. Her legs crossed together in her robe.

"Thank you, sweetie," she said. "But I may not be the perfect wife. First your father runs off, and now I'm stuck with ...