Loving my beautiful Mom

My stepmother has always seemed to me to be just the sweetest, kindest most beautiful person in the whole world. My real mother had tragically died in a road accident when I was little more than a baby, and Dad remarried less than a year later. My stepmother, or Mom, as I’ve always called her, has in reality been the only mother I have ever consciously known.

Sadly, Dad was always a simply grotesque parody of a human being: a drunk, mean, mistrustful, dominating bigot, who’s only real pleasure in life was putting down the confidence of those around him. He proclaimed himself as a ‘self-made man,’ someone who had come from a poor background and made lots of money in business, in his case as a building contractor. Yes, he was good at making money, and at golf, but apart from that the way I could best describe him was as a twenty four carat gold cunt.

Mom, my older sister, and me, were totally dominated by his overbearing, control-freak ways. I suppose, in retrospect, it could be said that Mom should have stood up to him, or to have left him, but maybe it really is true that if a person is told enough times that they are valueless then they perceive them self this way? Anyway, Mom’s warm, outgoing nature was gradually eroded, and although she was always a kind, loving person, over time she changed into what he wanted her to be: an introverted, ultra conservative type person, whose life merely revolved around the home and pandering to his every whim.

My sister and myself basically just hated him, but probably, in truth, inherited enough of his confidence, or better put arrogance, not to become worn down by him as Mom had. My sister left home to go to University when she was eighteen, and that was pretty much the last any of us saw of her for years. She had escaped, the wise girl. Myself, well as I entered my mid-teens I began to stand-up to his constant verbal bullying. This went down so well that after an argument on my sixteenth birthday, he threw me out of the house.

Mom sneaked behind his back and paid the rent for a bed-sit. Things were hard for me for a while, but hell, I was young, strong and cocky, and I always got by ok in the end, whatever scrape I got into, and there were quite a few of them. I’d always been interested in cars as a kid, my luck was good and by the time I was twenty four I was co-owner of a small but pretty successful garage. I had a nice, two bedroom rented apartment near a quiet beach and a few notes to fill my pockets on a night out. Life was sweet. I liked a lot of women and a few of them liked me in return. Nothing serious, just partying, having fun. I loved sex and disliked commitment… way it was.

I always kept in touch with Mom, mainly by phone but occasionally we would meet for a meal. I felt bad for her, she felt masses of guilt over my eviction, although it was none of her doing. To an extent I shared her in obvious dissatisfaction and pain. Sweet and caring as she was, and despite doing everything she possibly could for my Dad, this was a woman who was never, ever paid any compliment, bought flowers or even a meal out, unless it was to help entertain his business partners. Try to persuade her as I would, she would never countenance leaving him. Call it what you will, the love she must have had for him, the way he totally controlled her, or her chronic lack of self-esteem, she was in a rut with him, and she would not do anything to get out of it. Looking at her was ever like watching a butterfly trapped in the grip of a calloused human hand.

Well, the drink, as it does, found him out in the end, and he left her a widow at forty six. Naturally I never went to the funeral, although I may get round to pissing on his gravestone one of these days. The will was a surprise. Obviously me and my sister got nothing. Mom got the house and a very small pension. The business and his obscene pile of cash in the bank went to… a secret ‘second’ family. Yes, the bastard was cheating on Mom for years.

Still, at least it meant we didn’t have to sneak around to meet any more, and I started to visit the house quite a bit. I was worried about her at first, she was too set in her introverted ways, but with encouragement she began to move out of her old narrow rituals, and began to take an interest back in the big wide world. Mom took a volunteer job in a charity bookshop, started going to painting and computer classes and with her kind personality made some new friends. Gradually her confidence came back.

Mom started going on trips out with her new friends. As she was a voluptuous, very attractive woman, I used to tease her, saying that she was dating men. This would always make her blush. “I’m not interested in new men Son,” she would say, “You’re the only man in my life.” I wasn’t so sure though, sometimes there was a certain gleam in her eye when we were out together and a good-looking guy was near.

And sure enough, one warm summer morning when I went to call on Mom before work an unfamiliar man drove out of the front gate just before I entered it. Mom was in the driveway waving him a farewell. “New boyfriend Mom?” I asked her, laughing, although in truth a large part of me was frankly jealous.

“Well,” she stammered, seeming unsure. “It was a guy I met at art class. He’s a nice man. He asked me out for dinner, and we have had a relaxing time together, but I don’t think we will meet up again for another date.”

“Well Mom, why not? You liked him enough to have him stay over.”

Mom looked embarrassed at this, before attempting an explanation. “Look Son, you were encouraging me to date again, and we all have our needs. Yes, I did want to go to bed with him, and I did, but to be honest it wasn’t the greatest of nights if you get my drift.”

I laughed a bit at this and she joined me. “What was the problem Mom, wasn’t he up to the job?”

“No,” she replied, “He was a bit older than the men I tend to like (in the brief glimpse I had of him he didn’t look any older than Mom), and…” she then wiggled her little finger in a rather descriptive way. We both cracked up laughing. It seemed that Mom was something of young man admirer and a latent size queen to boot!

“What about you Son, are you seeing anyone regularly?”

I was, although it was just another fun fling rather than anything serious.