A Homecoming for My Son

I had been waiting for this day for two long years. Today Ryan was coming home, and I wanted to look my total best. He'd been gone for two years, most of that time spent in school, he had applied and been accepted into Oxford, the famed University in England. And because of the rigors of his study and the cost of returning home being rather cost prohibitive, we had not seen each other for those two long years.

We had corresponded regularly by e-mail and Skyped occasionally, but I missed my baby boy so much... But the distance between us lessened when he wrote in his emails his feelings for me. He never failed to tell me how much he loved me and missed me, and even though he liked what he was doing, he couldn't wait to get back home and see me again.

He often said things like, "I miss you with all of my heart," and, "I think about you all the time." He called me "sweetheart" and "beautiful," and said that he had proudly displayed a framed picture of me in his dorm room.

Once, according to an email I'd received just two months before he came home, some guy named Richard had asked for my "digits", so he could look me up next time he was stateside. Ryan had responded, "She's all mine!" I thought it an odd twist of phrase, but chalked it up to him defending his mother's honor.

"After that," Ryan wrote me, "everybody started referring to you as 'my girl'."

We talked of our longing to see each other again. It became pretty mushy in the final days before he started home. I began thinking of those final messages and my feelings for my son; "Silly," I told myself as I finally settled on a pair of jeans and a tank-top, pulling them off their hangers and onto my body. "Silly and romantic."

I closed the closet door and looked at myself in my full length mirror. I wasn't a raving beauty, but at forty years old I could admit that I was pretty. I had shoulder length brown hair that I wore in a ponytail, and large brown eyes, and a fair complexion. I had a decent body too, slim and curvy where it matters, although if I had my way I'd be a couple pounds lighter. All in all, I supposed I wasn't too hard to look at. I found myself hoping Ryan would think so too.

I inspected myself in the mirror again, checking the fit. The clothes were a little snug, accentuating every curve and contour, but they didn't make me look fat anywhere. Next I put on my shoes.

I decided to take off my bra and when I checked the look once more I liked what I saw. I have nice boobs, full and round and firm, not a bit of sag, but still, I wasn't sure if I should be walking around showing them off so much. A lady was supposed to be modest. And it wasn't exactly appropriate to be showing them off to Ryan like that. But then again, I told myself as I studied my boobs in the mirror, if I was totally honest I had to admit that it excited me to show them off to Ryan.

"More silliness," I said to my reflection. I put the bra back on , rechecked my face and my hair, made sure everything was okay, then turned and left my bedroom, on my way to welcome my darling son home from school.

The trip to the airport wasn't too bad, since it was a weekend and there wasn't much traffic. My husband drove, and I let my mind wander, and of course it wandered right to Ryan. I sat and watched out of the window, dreaming of how Ryan might have changed. I imagined what our reunion at the airport would be like: I began to resent My husband being there to interfere with our reacquainting.

I began to imagine that I would see him first as he came off the plane, I imagined that I ran to him, at which point he would see me and get a smile on his face. He would hold his arms out wide and I would run into them. He would hug me fiercely, squeezing all the air out of me as he kissed me, right on the mouth. Then he would swing me around in his arms, gently land me on my feet, then let go of me a little so he could get a good look at me. He would say, "Mom, you're even more beautiful than I remember."

Of course, I knew it was a little over the top, it was way too romantic, too intimate. Ryan would never greet me that way, and even if he would, my husband would flip! But how would I react? Would I really want Ryan to hug me and kiss me that way? Probably not, I told myself. In reality, I would have a coronary too. But it was nice to think about.

As we got closer to the airport my mind pushed the fantasy a little deeper... After saying that I was more beautiful than he remembered, Ryan would kiss me again, and slowly slide his hands up and down my back. I would feel his tongue against my lips and I would open my mouth, take it in, and gently suck on it. And Rob, my husband, instead of suddenly dying, would be standing there watching us and smiling, proud of how easy it was for our son to demonstrate his love for his mother.

Ryan would french-kiss me and caress me for a minute, then reluctantly break the kiss and whisper in my ear, "I can't wait to get you alone," and I would smile shyly, knowing what he meant. Then he would embrace me again, hold me close to his strong hard body, and I would feel his erection pressing against me...

"That's enough of that," I told myself. I picked up my cell phone and shut out the fantasy as I forced myself to change my thoughts.

We finally got to the airport and parked near the terminal. "Only six more minutes," I told Rob, barely able to restrain my anticipation. I actually bounced up and down on my toes.

Rob just stared at me for a moment before he sat down in blue plastic chairs bolted to the

floor.

Rob patted the one next to him and said, "Sit down, dear."

"I can't," I said. "I'm too excited."

I started wandering around the waiting area, crossing and uncrossing my arms, or moving them up and down like big slow wings. I stopped doing that, though, when I accidentally hit a guy in the side of the head. He looked at me like I was a total asshole and I apologized, then he let his eyes rove down to my boobs and he half smiled and said, "That's okay, dear." The guy was my dad's age and obviously a perv, but I didn't care. I was too excited.

I wandered around for another few moments, dodging and weaving around all the other people waiting for their own loved ones or friends or whatever, then sat down next to Rob. He put his arm around me and leaned toward me, apparently to say something into my ear, but suddenly I heard a huge noise coming from outside and I looked and there was his plane.

It was moving slowly toward the window, it's round nose pointed straight at me, and it was so close I could see the pilot and co-pilot in the cockpit. I jumped up, accidentally bumping Rob with my shoulder, and squealed."He's here!" I said way too loud. Once again I couldn't resist bouncing up and down on my toes, and suddenly there was a group of guys watching my boobs bouncing up and down. I didn't care, though, My baby was home!

Rob stood up too and we, along with a crush of other people, moved over to the door Ryan would be coming through. My heart was beating hard in my chest as I wrung my hands, suddenly feeling silly now for the way I'd been acting. Sure, it was okay to be excited, but Ryan was my son, not my lover. Besides, I was twenty years older than Ryan, a mature woman, and it wouldn't do to have him see me acting like a child. So I took a few deep breaths, calmed myself down, and waited as maturely as I could.

After an eternity, the door opened and the passengers started coming out. There were all sorts of them, men, women, kids, young and old, even several soldiers that smiled and looked approvingly at me as they passed by.

Suddenly there he was, Ryan, Smiling as he waded through the throng of milling people.

I didn't scream. I just stood there, my hands clasped together in front of me, as Rob stepped forward, both of us making excited greeting noises as we held our arms out to him. I went first, hugging him fiercely and kissing his cheek, then Rob, a more restrained, manly hug, no kiss, just pats on the back.

Oh my God, he was so handsome, with his light brown hair, his bright blue eyes and his strong masculine features. He was wearing his school rugby jersey, just as I had imagined so many times, and while his smile probably wasn't the one from my daydream, it was genuine. He was still smiling at me; obviously happy to see me.

I felt like backing up and running to him just like in my fantasy, but like a statue I just stood there, motionless, my heart pounding in my chest, my own dopey grin plastered across my face. I couldn't even speak.

"Your mother has missed you terribly!" Rob intimated toward his son, nodding in my direction. I felt myself blush.

"I've missed you too, mom!" Ryan said. He came to me in two strides, took me in his strong arms, and hugged me hard as he said something like, "Mom, I'm so glad to see you, I've missed you so much." At which point I did something totally unpredictable: I burst into tears. I pressed my face against his chest and held him lightly as I wept, not understanding what I was doing or why. Ryan, bless him, just shushed me and stroked my hair and softly told me, "You're alright, you're alright now." I didn't cry for long, less than a minute, really, and when I was done I looked up at him, embarrassed by my inexplicable behavior. But Ryan just smiled down at me and even laughed a little.

"What do you say we get going?" Rob piped up. "It's going to be a long drive home."

"Just let me get my bag," Ryan said, letting me go almost as if he was reluctant to do so.

We all followed him to baggage claim, where it seemed like everyone in the world had gathered to collect their luggage. Fortunately, it wasn't hard to locate Ryan's bag.

On the way out a very pretty blonde girl gave Ryan a long appreciative look. I stared daggers at her until Ryan took me by the wrist and said, "Okay, let's get out of here."

He held my hand as we followed Rob on the walk back to the car. When we got there Rob suggested that Ryan get up front with him and I could sit in the back.

He talked most of the way, since Rob had said he wanted to hear everything about Ryan's time away. Most of what he said was similar to what he'd told me in his email, about how the country was beautiful and the people were great and all that.

Believe it or not, I was sort of bored, and even a little miffed with Rob for taking all of Ryan's attention. When we got back to the house we ate a buffet lunch that I had prepared the night before, then came a long afternoon of sitting in the living room and talking. Again,

Rob hogged Ryan, but I got to sit next to him on the sofa and occasionally catch his eye and smile sweetly at him, or take one of his hands and give it a quick squeeze. And once I told him, "I'm just so glad you're home," and I nearly started crying again.

Finally, Ryan said he wanted to go check in with some friends of his, and he asked me if I could drop him off, as his driver's license had lapsed.

"Sure," I said, forcing myself not to shout. Ryan went upstairs to his old room to change out of his travel clothes. When he came back down he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that was totally tight on him.

I smiled when I saw him, and I knew that the way I was looking at him was not very motherly...

Ryan didn't seem to mind, and even gave me a kind of flirty smile in return, which made me blush."Come on, mom," he said. He headed out the front door and I followed obediently.

Once we were on our way I asked Ryan if he was going to visit some of his old high school friends.

"Nah," he said, watching the road through very dark sunglasses, "I don't hear from any of them anymore. I just wanted some alone time with you..."

My heart skipped a beat at Ryan's bluntness.

Ryan stared through the windshield silently for awhile, apparently seriously considering something.

"So where are we going?" I asked after a short time.

Finally, he shrugged again and said, "Can we just drive around?" He paused again. At the next stop sign, Ryan announced, "some place downtown, where we can get something to drink.

As we got underway again Ryan asked me, "So, what did you think of my friends thinking you were my girlfriend?"

I felt myself blush deeply. "Did they really believe that?" I replied with a note of disbelief.

"Well..." Ryan began.

I looked over at Ryan. He was trying to watch me at the same time avoiding my looking at him. "Did you ever tell them I was your mother?" For some reason, the idea popped into my mind that he might not have explained it to them.

Ryan glanced at me, and for a second his eyes met mine.

"I may have led them on..." he said. He was silent for a few moments.

I began to wonder why he would keep something like this from his friends.

"So you deliberately lied to them?" I glanced at him as I asked.

He winced at the word "lied".

"It's not that I lied about it...It's more like how I felt, you know?"

It was my turn to wince.

He was silent again, but this time the silence went on and on. We didn't talk again until we got downtown.

Ryan found a place that served coffee and espressos and we sat at a table outside. It was sunny, with only a few clouds in the sky, and a soft cool breeze blowing in from the bay. I'd gotten a mocha.

We started talking again, but just about me this time. I did share one bit of gossip: I'd found out recently that our neighbor, Mrs. Martin, had had an affair with the local deputy.

Ryan didn't seem to find this information even half as shocking as I did. He just smiled in a knowing kind of a sly way and said, "She's hot, I remember having a thing for her myself."

I rolled my eyes to show him how crazy I thought the whole thing was.

"Speaking of totally hot women," Ryan said, then deliberately looked me over. His eyes seemed to touch every single part of my body before settling, for a moment, on my boobs. By the time he'd brought them back up to meet mine I was not only blushing but telling myself I should have left my bra at home.

"I'm not totally hot," I said. "I'm not even lukewarm. I'm an old woman."

Ryan laughed, reached across the table, and took my mocha, which I'd nearly finished. He drank the last of it, then set my cup on the table and looked at me with the same kind of cocky egotistical grin I had imagined in my earlier daydream.

"That was my mocha," I said. I tried to sound hurt, but I sounded more like I was horny.

"Come on," Ryan said, suddenly standing up. "Let's go down to the waterfront."

He turned and started walking away, obviously expecting me to just follow him like a spineless nobody. Which I did. I hadn't been to the waterfront in four years, and a lot of it had changed since then. There were a lot of new shops and restaurants, and a long wide cement walkway had been built right along the shore. It was called a "promenade," and Ryan and I walked along it hand in hand.

"I'm glad I finally got to be alone with you," he told me as the cool breeze washed over us.

"Really?" I said. "Why?" I remembered the fantasy I'd had in the car and what "alone with me" meant meant to me.

Ryan gave me his typical and meaningless shrug and said, "I dunno. You know how it is. Especially around Dad. You can't say everything you wanna say in front of him."

"Like what?" I asked, although I thought I knew exactly what he meant.

"Like how much I love you and missed you. How important you are to me." Ryan looked at me, and his eyes went up and down my body. "How sexy you look in that tank-top." Another knowing smile.

I smiled too, and looked out at the bay. "Thank you," I said, then added, "But you said all those things before..."

Ryan suddenly stopped and I stopped with him. "Come here," he said, and pulled me against him. He kissed my cheek, then embraced me in a gentle but firm hug. I hugged him too and we stood there together for a while, just holding each other.

The long awaited romantic moment.

I could feel something against my belly, although I couldn't tell if it was hard or not.

Eventually, Ryan relaxed his embrace and drew back to look down at me. He had a strange look in his eyes, like he wanted to tell me something but wasn't sure how. I think I may have had the same look in my own eyes, because his mouth curled into a small smile, then he leaned down and kissed me on the lips. It was the best kiss in my entire life.

I realized as Ryan's warm lips pressed against mine that I'd been harboring an unrequited desire for my son, but now, as the kiss with Ryan deepened, I just felt a complete submission to his passion.

Ryan was a man, and he knew how to talk to a woman, how to hold her, and how to kiss her. The fact that he was my son suddenly seemed totally irrelevant. Eventually, our kiss ended, our lips parting slowly and both of us drawing back enough to look deeply into each other's eyes. I felt a weakness in my knees, not to mention a growing warmth between my legs. I wanted to kiss him again, to let him put his tongue in my mouth, to let him touch me the way those boys at school wanted to do to me. Do things for him that I wouldn't do for them.

I tried to communicate these feelings to him with my eyes, with my loving smile, and with the way I rested my hands on his waist, as if they were just pausing there before they moved further down to find his hardness.

Ryan touched my hair, then my cheek."I love you, Mom," he said softly.

"I love you too," I replied. It seemed to me that we both wanted to say more, but what could we say? We were mother and son. We'd reached the outer boundaries of our relationship, maybe even stepped over the line a little bit. It was impossible to go any further. I felt this huge sadness come over me and I had to look away.

Ryan let me go and we both took a step back, as if even being near each other was wrong. Ryan turned his back to me, muttered something into the breeze, he then turned around again. His eyes seemed resolute and he was no longer smiling.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but before I could say anything he said, "You know why I never told them you were my mother?"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I couldn't, mom. I missed you so much...I needed you to be more than my mother..."

"I'm so sorry, Ryan," I said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

We held each other there in the sun until our tears subsided. Eventually, Ryan spoke again. His voice was calmer, stronger, determined. "I'm sorry I lied mom," he told me.

"It's okay, my love," I said, not feeling wrong in the least for using those words.

"I just hate having to keep everything I think and feel locked up inside. Not being able to tell people...even when they ask. I don't want to live like that. Because it's not just about them believing you are my girl..."

"What do you mean?"

Ryan didn't answer. Instead he just said, "Fuck it," let me go, and took my hand. "Come on." He started pulling me down the sidewalk and I almost had to run to keep up with him.

"Where are we going?" I asked, but again Ryan didn't answer.

We went to the car and he opened the driver's door for me. I got in and buckled up, wondering what was going on, afraid that he was blaming me for the mistake I'd made. That he was embarrassed, and angry at me for luring him into something he ultimately didn't want.

As soon as he opened his own door I said, "I'm sorry, Ryan," but he still didn't answer.

We drove out of the parking lot a little too fast, and sped down the highway, back toward our house.

Ryan finally spoke as he pointed, "Turn here," there was a small highway motel to the right. I pulled in and must have looked confused as I parked the car.

Ryan leaped out and went into the office and came out with a determined look on his face. He pointed down the row of doors to "Number sixteen." In a moment we were parked in front of room sixteen and out of the car.