I am the Fountain of Youth – pt. 2

I took a shower to rinse off all the sweat and everything else still sticking to my body. It had the added effect of settling my mind down a bit. Things came a little into perspective. I wasn’t sure if I should be panicked.

What do I know?

1) My mom is not my mom.
2) Her name is Laura.
3) I don’t know where I come from.
4) Most importantly – the woman I believed to be my mother has become overwhelmingly in need of my cum.
5) I fucked her.
6) I loved it.

My mom was waiting for me back in the living room. We had just finished having sex there, and though I knew it was a mind-blowing experience, it was also bordering on traumatizing. I wished I could get back into the mindset I was in when I was on top of her, making love to her. I wished I could just be into it. I was fucking a gorgeous woman whom I loved to no end.

But I also had been tricked, and, by some people’s definition, abused. I didn’t feel that way, but this was so much information all at once. Processing it all on top of losing my virginity in such an intense way was jacking my heart-rate. I didn’t want to go back into the living room. I didn’t want to talk to Laura. If I had to, I wished we could do it somewhere else.

I got out of the shower, but kept the water flowing. I found the cigarettes that I kept underneath the sink, taped to the top of the cabinet because I’m incredibly paranoid of my mom finding out I smoke. I got back into the shower. I smoked the cigarette while the water hit my back and I blew the smoke right up into the vent.

It made it easier to think. I also smiled at the cliche of smoking right after having sex.

Okay. I need to not only think about myself here. Jack, don’t be selfish. It’s not like you’re the only one who’s shocked right now. Laura just fucked her son. She just told him he’s adopted. Calm down and be there for her. If you can’t clear your head for yourself, clear it for her.

There was no better way for me to do it. I loved my mom. I could do it for her sake.

The living room was still an uncomfortable space for me, and when I walked in I got a little on edge. My mom sat on the couch in a white robe with a photo-album in her hand.

“Laura, could we do this somewhere else?”

She took a moment, wondering if this meant I considered our sex a bad memory.

“Of course, honey.”

She took me to our study. Four walls made of bookshelves. Mostly we had fiction of all different styles. My mom was a big reader, and people were often surprised by the range of her taste. They were especially shocked by how many old books she liked. She didn’t just like to read Shakespeare. Sometimes I would find her actually crying over a copy of Medea. She had a copy of fucking Gilgamesh, but she could tell you the story herself better than the version found in our study.

Anyway.

We sat down on the couch. “I know we have a lot to talk about. About just now, and all the things I promised to tell you earlier. But I think the easiest way for me to explain things would be to show you this.”

She held the photo-album in her hands. She opened it to the first picture.

It was a black and white picture of what looked like Ellis Island. I saw a group of immigrants standing in line to see a man at a desk. They all held briefcases and some of the women were covered in that kind of shawl I can’t help but associate with some Russian babushka.

My mom asked, “Do you see it?”

“Is one of our ancestors in this picture?”

She smiled. “Kind of.” She pointed out one of the women in line. I took a closer look.

She looked like a carbon-copy of my sister. “She looks just like Maddie!” I took the book into my own hands and held it closer. “Is that my great-grandmother… uh… is that Maddie’s great-grandmother?” I couldn’t hold it in my head that I was adopted.

My mom said, “That’s my grandmother, actually… but it’s Maddie.”

My brow furrowed. I thought it was just a joke that didn’t land.