My Mother, My Wife

I had just gotten off the phone with my mother. As had been the case, with seeming regularity, she didn't quite sound like her old self. She was aloof, indifferent, yet at times, whimsical. It was just odd enough that I called Willard Peterman, Mom's next-door neighbor, who had promised to keep an eye on her when I moved out. "She's okay for the most part," he told me. "I see her every day, whether she's getting her mail or watering her roses, but yeah, she does seem to be going off on these tangents of late. She talks herself in circles and forgets the point she was trying to make. I really don't know if it's anything to be worried about, Josh, but it may be early onset of Alzheimer's for all we know." I thanked him for his input. He promised to keep a close eye on her.

Just two days later and Mr. Peterman was calling me. "It's terrible, Josh. Just terrible."

"What, Mr. Peterman? Is it my mother? Is she okay?"

"I found her in her yard at three-thirty this morning walking around in her panties only, Josh. She had been calling out for a cat. You know, like, 'Here, kitty-kitty-kitty?' That sort of thing."

"But she doesn't even own a cat," I said. "Or does she? It has been a couple of months since I was last there, and she certainly hasn't mentioned one to me when we speak over the phone."

"I have not seen a cat over there either," he told me, "and when I questioned her concerning her activities, she immediately accused me of leading her outside her house in her current state of dress so that I could take advantage of her. If Lavern hadn't seen it with her own eyes, well, I don't know what would have happened."

"I'll give her a call, Mr. Peterman. Thank you for advising me of this." I killed the connection, then called my mother. "Hi, Mom. It's Josh."

"Oh, Josh. How are you?"

"I'm okay, Mom. How are you doing?"

"Okay for the most part," she answered, "although I think that man next door has taken a liking to me. You know, the short, bald one?"

"Mr. Peterman?" I asked. "Mom, he's been happily married for thirty years."

"Maybe they want a threesome with me, Josh. I'm flattered at the notion. Do you think I should do it? I've never been with a woman before."

I laughed. "No, Mom. They don't want a threesome with you. They are your friends and they care about your well-being. Tell me, do you have a cat?"

"Heaven's no. I can't stand cats. You know that."

"Are you sleeping okay, Mom?"

"I've had a touch of insomnia, but nothing to worry over. Why?"

"I just want to make sure you're okay, is all. Do you need anything?"

"Tell your sister that I miss her, and I want her to call me first chance she gets."

"Mom, you know—" My sister Penny had been dead going on ten years now. Was this it, then? Was this the Alzheimer's that Mr. Peterman spoke of? "I'll see what I can do, Mom."

"Thank you, Josh. I love you. Bye." Then she hung up.

I called Mr. Peterman back. "That Alzheimer's you were warning me about? She brought up my sister and spoke of her as if she were alive. I think you might be right."

"I will keep a closer eye on her for you, Josh. Perhaps she and Lavern can interact more on a daily basis."

I thanked him and ended the call, then got back to work. I owned a small-engine repair shop, and business was booming.

I called Mom every day and Mr. Peterman every two to three days over the next three weeks. Then one day I called, and no answer. I tried several times that day, twelve? Fifteen? I finally called Mr. Peterman and had him go over and check. "Well, her car is out of the garage, Josh. There is no telling where she could be."

I continued to call for another two hours, then I received a call from Mr. Peterman. "Josh, I regret to inform you that Lavern and I are at the police station in Boca Raton with your mother. She had been pulled over for driving on the wrong side of the road, and when the officer approached, he found her naked. Ours was the only number she remembered, so she called us. They are allowing us to remain here, but she must undergo a psyche eval before being released."

I looked at the clock, then sighed heavily before saying," "It's an eight-hour trip, Mr. Peterman. I can be there by five, give or take."

"No, let us handle this. I will call you when the results from the evaluation come in."

"Well, thank you for that," I said, "and thank you for being such a good friend."

"This is what friends do," he replied, then he ended the call. The following morning at ten-thirty,

he called to tell me, "The psyche eval is concluded, Josh. It is as we feared: Early onset of Alzheimer's. What do you wish to do?"

"I suppose I'll go up and look into her insurance, see if it covers any assisted living," I told him.

"And if it doesn't?" he posed. "I know you and she are estranged, Josh, and I don't blame you for moving out like you did, but you may have to soon come to a choice of moving her back in or moving her to a home where her needs can be met."

"I understand. Look, I know you have already done so much for me, Mr. Peterman, but do you think you and your wife can watch her for the next three days? It's just that I'm looking at three riding mowers, two chain saws, and eight push mowers that I need to fix considering I don't know how much of my time will be spent down there once I arrive."

"I will ask Lavern to stay the night with her until you arrive," he answered.

This was Wednesday morning. I busted my ass to get all my work completed, and by noon Friday, I had. My bags were packed, and I was ready to go. I was just waiting on one final customer to pick up his merchandise, and that's when the call came in. "Josh, I'm so sorry, son. It happened so fast."

"Mrs. Peterman?"

"I stepped out for just a moment. I promise."

"Mrs. Peterman, what are you talking about? What happened?"

"Her house ... everything ... Gone, Josh. Burnt to cinders."

"What?" I exclaimed. "Is she okay?"

"Yes, yes. She is fine," she assured me. "Smoke inhalation is all. Willard was in close enough proximity that he saw the smoke. He found your mother before the blaze got too bad."

"Is he okay?"

"Same as your mother. Smoke inhalation," she answered.

"Any idea how it started?" I asked.

"Who knows until the fire marshal takes a look?" she answered. "Willard will be okay, and he and I will house your mother for the night, so don't you worry about her."

"I'm on my way, Mrs. Peterman. Thank you."

It was roughly a seven-hour journey from my home in Valdosta, Georgia to West Palm Beach, Florida, and it was coming up on half past twelve now. Hopefully, I'd make it there before the Peterman's called it a night.

I called Mr. Peterman at six. "Traffic is bottlenecked right outside of Orlando. I'm just going to get a room at the Motel 6 when I get there, and I'll see you first thing in the morning."

"We should all be up by eight-thirty," he told me. I thanked him again, killed the connection, then resumed my five mile per hour trek across I-75. It was going on nine-thirty when I arrived, so I got some sleep in preparation for what tomorrow might bring.

I was at the house by seven. I walked the perimeter of ashes, then through the pile of charred memories. Mrs. Peterman was right. Everything had burned to cinders. Mr. Peterman met me out there by eight. We talked. He said he was doing fine, that he was glad he was able to act before things got too bad. Of course, so was I.

The fire marshal drove up and reprimanded us for walking through a potential crime scene. We stepped out and continued our conversation. Finally, after about an hour, he said it was his determination that the fire was a result of a faulty breaker box. He said we could get a copy of his report any time after three p.m.

"At least your mother didn't set it," Mr. Peterman said. "The insurance company would have had a field day with that one." Silence. "So, what now, Josh?"

"Now I move her to Georgia with me, hire someone to clean up this mess, and sell the land."

"You're not going to keep it?"

"No need to," I told him. "I doubt I ever come back. Hey, you could buy it."

"Me?"

"Why not? Ten thousand and it's yours."

"Let me talk it over with Lavern," he said. "Oh, and you're free to stay however long you wish."

We stayed through Monday evening, just long enough to meet with the insurance adjuster, then left out the following morning. Willard and Lavern decided to buy the land, so with that ten thousand dollars added to the $365,000.00 we received for the house, Mom and I were pretty much set for the rest of our lives. This wasn't to say that I gave up my business; not by any means. I was still out there Monday through Friday doing what I did best: repairing small engines. Okay, so I did start closing at noon on Saturdays. It was the one eccentricity I allowed myself.

Since I was in the midst of purchasing my house and land—my shop was a large metal building about one hundred feet from the house—I went ahead and paid that off and bought a new truck. I had taken Mom shopping as well, seeing as to how she had lost everything in the fire. That still left us with roughly $215,000.00, so no worries there.

Reacclimating myself to having Mom around was a chore in and of itself. Now that she and I were around each other constantly, I could see the little things that would bespeak her descent into dementia. I would mention these things to Dr. Harper Mister, Mom's Neurologist, and Dr. Harper Misses, Mom's psychologist. They told me to remain observant and continue to report any strange, new quirks or goings-on.

"Should I ever bring up the past?" I had asked both. "Like, she seems oblivious to the fact that we didn't live together for six years, and she doesn't remember the fire." Both suggested that she should be the one to initiate conversation concerning events such as those, so I acquiesced.

One morning I awoke, and after using the restroom I entered the kitchen to find her completely nude and cutting oranges. She looked up at me and began to scream. She even threw at me the knife she had been using. It wasn't until I grabbed the most recent picture of her and myself and held it up that she calmed down. Luckily, this happened on a Sunday. I don't think I would have felt safe leaving her alone if it were a work day.

She went to her room and reemerged wearing a black lace teddy that did nothing to hide her body parts. Mom was still relatively young at forty-four, and her body was one a thirty-year-old would kill to have. "You don't mind if I wear this, do you?"

What was I supposed to say? I figured, "Aren't you cold?" would be safe enough.

"My nipples are," she said with a laugh. "Just look at them."

I tried not to, but I just couldn't help myself.

Mom began walking around the house. She would comment on every picture she had come to. "We certainly look happy in this one." She went to the next. "My, just look at those smiles on our faces." The next, "I know there's love here, but I sense something troubling as well."

"That one was taken about a month before I moved out," I told her.

"And, why did you move out?" she asked as she slurped on an orange quarter.

"You had just become so overbearing," I told her. "Nothing I did was good enough for you. You chastised me, ridiculed me about starting my small-engine repair business. You said it wouldn't flourish. Well, guess what? I'm the most successful person in my field in this town. The local college has even asked me to teach a course out there, so what do you think of that?"

"I think I owe you a really, really big apology ... um ..." She laughed. "I'm sorry. What is your name again?"

"Josh."

"I'm so sorry, Josh. I should have believed in you. I guess I was just so caught up in all my own problems that I couldn't focus on you becoming a successful businessman." She started walking again, then stopped. "You say I was overbearing, yet we are always smiling. Even here. Look."

The picture she was holding up was one that had been taken after my dad died. She and I were at the beach on a picnic and had the best time I could ever remember. I don't know what it was about that day. It's like all the stars had aligned and filled our souls with pure sunshine. "That was a really fun day for us both. Do you remember?"

She concentrated hard. It showed on her face. "That's the day we tried those live little squiddies for the first time, wasn't it?"

"Yes, that's exactly right."

"Didn't we make love on the beach that night?" she asked.

"No! But I think you ordered a Sex on the Beach."

She laughed. "That must be what it was." Only it wasn't. How could she create a memory such as this? I would ask the Doctors Harper upon our next visit. For now, though, Mom asked, "Are there any more pictures of us?"

"That's it," I assured her.

"Why so few?"

I didn't want to tell her that they all got burned to hell and gone, so I simply said, "These were taken before I moved out. We've done a selfie here and there, but nothing like a family photo."

"Then maybe we should," she said, then made her way to the living room where she sat and watched TV.

I watched her as she walked. The way her panties gripped her voluptuous ass ... I was ashamed for even thinking such a thing. I needed to get my mind off her. "Do you think you'll be okay for a bit? I'm going out to the office to catch up on some paperwork."

She waved me off, her attention never leaving Total Divas.

That night at dinner, she said, "What made you come get me?"

"Is there some place else you'd like to be?" I asked in return.

"No, I feel like I belong here with you," she said, "but it has been six years since we separated. Do you love me enough that you want me back in your life?"

"As long as you understand that I am a man, I am the man of this house, and I will do what I feel is best for the both of us, we won't have any problems."

"Oooh, listen to how forceful you are," she said with a playful smile. "I like this incarnation of you. Or do I? It's really hard to remember how we were before ... well, before you left, I guess. No worries, though. I promise to be everything you need: supportive, appreciative, loving, caring ... Maybe you can let me lend a hand with your books at work. You know I was a CPA once upon a time."

"That's definitely something to consider."

"Thank you, Josh."

She washed dishes as I showered, then we watched a movie called Split. It was pretty damned good. The set-up at the end was awesome. Even Mom was excited over it. As we readied ourselves for bed, she said, "I know a lot of things are going to take time, and I accept that. I think you and I can become what we once were." She kissed my cheek, then went to her room.

As I made my way to mine, I couldn't help but notice the sexual undertone her speech had carried all throughout the day. I excused it, though, blaming it on myself for looking at her nipples and butt.

A few nights later I was having a most wonderful dream. Earlier, a young Latina stopped by to pick up her brother's drone. We flirted with each other, but nothing was actually said. It was this woman I had been dreaming about. I dreamed she had been sucking my cock, then she had crawled on top of me and my cock slid deep inside her pussy. "Oh, shit!" I gasped, and I awoke to find my mother riding my cock.

"Josh, I'm so sorry. I know you wanted to wait, but it's been six long years for us, baby. Six long years since we last made love. Please don't make me stop."

"Wh-What?" I asked as I attempted to fathom what was happening through a haze of incomplete wakefulness. "You ... You're fucking me?"

"Oh, I am, baby. I am," Mom said to me as she continued to go up and down, up and down. "I'm fucking your cock with my pussy. See how tight and wet I am? No one else has ever had this pussy since we got married."

"M-Married?"

"I know you had to leave because you thought I was a bitch, baby, but I just loved you too hard, is all. We're back together now, though, and that's all that matters."

"Oh, fuck," I said as I lay back and just went with it. I mean, she was right. Her pussy was tight, and wet, and hot as hell to boot. "Make me cum inside of you," I told her.

"Oh, yeah, baby. That's the Josh I remember. You used to cum in this pussy all the time. Tell Felicia she has the sweetest pussy there ever was, baby. Felicia needs to hear it."

"This is the sweetest pussy ever," I had to admit, but who the hell was Felicia? Mom's name is April Janine Oglethorpe-Johnson.

"No, baby. Call my name. Nothing gets me off like when you call my name."

"Oh, Felicia."

"Yes."

I guess she was. Is. Whatever. "You got those fat-ass titties with their perfect nipples."

"Tell me more."

"You've got the sweetest pussy there ever was, Felicia."

"Oh, shit."

"I can't wait to eat that ass for you, baby. I'm gonna—"

"Oh, Jesus fuck!" Mom shouted as she spasmed on my cock. It took the better part of a minute, but she finally settled enough that she slid off me and took my cock into her mouth. She slurped as sloppily as she possibly could, and in under five minutes I was skeeting my load down her throat. "Oh, yes. More. I love it. Mmmmm."

I lay there, completely out of breath but much satisfied. She crawled next to me. "I'm sorry, Josh. I just couldn't take it anymore."

"It was like the first time ever experiencing something so wonderful," I told her, and that was the truth. "You don't have to sneak anymore. Any time you want sex, just let me know."

"I'll remember that," she said, then she slid next to me and we drifted off to sleep.

All the next day I couldn't wrap my mind around Felicia, unless the name was a persona brought about by the Alzheimer's. Strange also was the fact that as April, she never swore or exuded a seductive posture. We had an appointment today with the Doctors Harper. I'd ask each of them. As I finished cleaning a carburetor, the door opened. "Josh? Where are you, honey? I brought you something to eat."

"Over here," I said as I stood, and I noticed immediately the long, silken black robe she was wearing. I also noticed by her nipples poking through the fabric that she wasn't wearing a bra.

She walked to me and opened her robe. "Like I said, I brought you something to eat." She lay on the floor and cocked her legs out."

"Here?" I asked.

She spanked her pussy and smiled.

I gave in. I locked the customer entrance, then knelt before her. I ate her pussy and ass for almost an hour, then I fucked her good. I looked at my watch. "Twelve-thirty. Your appointment is at one-thirty. Go get dressed and let me know when you're ready." She was back at my side in thirty minutes, so I closed up shop and we were on our way. I spoke to neurologist Harper first, who said that it looked like the Alzheimer's was progressing. I then spoke to psychologist Harper who told me that she may have been approaching Mom's problems the wrong way, that maybe Mom was schizophrenic, and her dementia was linked to that. I then told her about the sex Mom and I had and she was mystified. "You allowed it to continue instead of stopping her?" she asked.

"I didn't know if stopping her would trigger something traumatic," I lied.

"But you see, Josh, this may become so ingrained in her mind that denying her the sex she desires with you could cause something traumatic."

"Then what should I do?"

"Freud would tell you to continue doing as you have," she postulated.

"Isn't he debunked nowadays as a quack?"

"There is a group who call themselves the New Freudians, of which I am a member."

"So then, you are telling me to continue on."

She smiled. "Do what you feel is right, just let me know if you do decide to continue the relationship. It would make for a wonderful paper."