My Other Mother Ch. 12

Part 1

It turned out to be pretty easy putting Mum off from attempting another moment, telling her that I really only wanted the raw sexual experience alone to start with and that I'd rather wait for anything deeper. She was a bit disappointed, but let me have my way without argument. Of course, I made it up to her a few times, so she felt a lot better about it by the time we went to sleep.

She had no nightmares, at least none that woke her up screaming, and I'd decided to take a chance on not bringing it up. I didn't want to tip my hand and, chances were, I could deal with the situation early in the upcoming week, as early as possible so that it would never need to be brought up. Not that I had the slightest idea of how I was going to deal with my grandmother, but I had to do something. It disturbed me even more on another level, that of Marie probably having used me, the time I was bewitched by her, to get to Mum and I wondered what else she was capable of, remembering Mum's claim that the Jedi spell was only a part of it.

I woke up still a little buzzed that Sunday, but mostly back to myself. The first thing that came to mind was that yellow polo shirt with the quickly growing red spot, spreading alarmingly quick as its wearer gawped at it in panic and disbelief.

My own panic and disbelief rose from the pit of my stomach, up through my chest and almost to my mouth before I was able to force the liquored mash back down to my gut, the heavy taste of bile remaining. Mum wasn't in the room and I didn't know if she was merely in the bathroom down the hall, or gone for the day, but it was a good thing she wasn't there at the time.

"Holy fuck! ... Ohhhh, fuck!"

It wasn't so much the carnage I caused with the rest of the patrons, remembering the vicious, angry pleasure I'd actually derived from it. No, it was the polo shirt guy. I may as well have shot him myself. I worried and stressed like crazy, soon having to bound up from the bed, throwing my sneakers on to avoid splinters from the gouged up floor, to quickly, nervously pace the room a few times. I ended up at the window, looking out and fretting about a visit from the cops until I was finally able to convince myself of the reasoning that worked so easily for Mum's other son the night before, allowing him to immediately discard the whole affair without a second thought.

Except for poor Marci.

I groaned, now feeling that cable heating, tightening around my gut. I sank down on the bed, forearms covering my stomach, rocking back and forth and groaning some more until I had to run for the bathroom, hoping it wasn't occupied and especially not by Mum.

It wasn't occupied by Mum or anybody else and, after getting that cable relaxed and cooled, I took a long, hot shower, trying not to think of anything at all.

Back at our room I took note of the time, almost ten to eleven, only then noticing the pint of Golden Wedding on the table, obviously left for me along with two sandwiches, twenty Dollars and a note.

Sweetie pie,

I'll be busy most of the day, hoping to be back around supper time or shortly after. Roxy's home for the day if you'd like some company. I know she enjoys yours so much. Loved our time together last night, baby. You make me feel so worth having.

Love, Mummy

I felt like crap; no longer physically, but personally and I almost didn't have what it took to do what I'd had planned for that day, an activity that definitely didn't include Roxanne.

I wanted to come clean to Mum about everything I'd been doing that she didn't know about. I just wanted everything between us to be good and at rest without any stupid, guilty secrets. But that damnedable promise I'd made would never allow for that, not until I broke or fulfilled it.

I ate the two sandwiches and downed a mouthful of the rye, just to quell my nerves and guilt before brushing my teeth, taking another gulp to be sure the job would get done.

I did feel a bit better as I left, although my thoughts were on how fast things seemed to be happening. It made it hard to keep up, to adjust my thinking, my decisions and actions accordingly. It felt like things were just beginning to spin out of control for me and I was glad for the rye I'd had before I left and how it kept my finger away from the panic button.

I've always liked the Library. It's quiet there and being surrounded by books containing all the literature and information I could want was always a strange comfort to me, a sort of calm, sane control in life that offered sense. Even the topics of the day's research couldn't break that merciful mood the place provided me.

Parasitism - The symbiotic relationship between organisms of different species. One, the parasite, benefits at the expense of the other, the host. Parasites are usually much smaller than their host and are like predators in their own way, consuming said host. Two classic parasites are tapeworms and fleas. Most are very specialized in their business and it's not uncommon for them to cause modification of host behaviour.

This wasn't much help and I didn't expect it to be.

Demonic possession - A psychokinetic control of a person by the devil or some other malevolent spirit. Symptoms of this include erased memories or personalities, convulsions, fits and fainting as though the possessed person is dying. Also, the possessed can have access to hidden knowledge and different languages, often displaying drastic changes in vocal intonation and facial structure, the sudden appearance of injuries and superhuman strength. The possessed person has no control over the entity, therefore it will stay until it is forced out, usually by means of an exorcism. Many cultures and religions have some concept of demonic possession, although the details often vary.

As I'd already figured, this wasn't it either.

Spirit possession - This is something I happened to stumble across and is a paranormal or supernatural event where a person, willingly or unwillingly, is possessed by a spirit, gods, demons, animals or even extra terrestrials. They can apparently also take possession of inanimate objects but, when they take possession of a person, the results are noticeable changes in health and/or behaviour. Like demonic possession, the concept of spiritual possession exists in many different cultures and religions, but may be considered to have beneficial or detrimental effects. The scientific community also has its opinions on the subject, those being that spirit possession is no more than a mental disease such, as I'd already investigated and moved on from.

None of the varying details on spiritual possession that I could find from cross checking different cultures seemed to fit what was within Mum and I, yet the bare description was the closest I'd come to it yet. Also, it somehow felt right. That's not very scientific, but I'd already learned to broaden my scope of accepted facts, realities and plausible theories, so I researched it further and found absolutely nothing of any relevance to our situation whatsoever.

Yet, the idea of spiritual possession remained along with my sense of parasitism. A spiritual parasite?

At this point, I was on the internet and found that there is indeed such a thing, or at least some people who believe there is. According to one article, there are non corporeal beings who walk the Earth with us, spirits if you will. Some of them are helpful, some are harmful. Beyond these are some others who are so different from us that there can be no interaction between them and Humankind at all.

Then, there are those that are purely instinctual in nature and with no will of their own beyond the drive to survive and propagate their own kind. Within this classification of 'instinctual' spirits are found a type that is apparently parasitic to Humans, and these spiritual parasites propagate themselves through abuse. (physical, mental, sexual) By way of some abusive act, or acts, the host passes this parasite to their victim. It grabs on to the solar plexus of the new host, supposedly a person's 'power base' and draws on it, feeding and growing until this spawn matures to its own propagation cycle, extending two tentacles, (spiritual tentacles of course) one to the host's will, usurping it, and the other to the person's moral integrity, deadening it. Once this parasite reaches maturity, its false will takes over, directing a person to commit acts of abuse.

The individual perceives this drive as something foreign within the body, almost like when people sense they've eaten something that's gone bad, and they seek to expel it from themselves, feeling a relief upon committing an act of abuse on another. Later, after realizing what they've done, they swear that this is something they'd never do, that "It wasn't me who did that," vowing to never commit such a horrible act again. However, this release did not expel the parasite, only allowed it to propagate to the next hapless victim. So the parasite continues to feed from its host, starting the propagation cycle all over again to make a repeat offender of its host in any case.

Not exact, but very interesting and the best explanation yet, despite its roots in mysticism. There was a picture of the article's author, some kind of hippy with his head thrown back in laughter. He seemed hardly credible, but what if he wasn't a laughing fool? What if it was true? Was it possible that a variant of this 'documented' parasite could exist? One that not even the freaked out mystics knew about?

Further search turned up nothing else, not online or in the many tomes surrounding me, so I packed it in, finding that I'd consumed almost four hours there. Mum would be home soon.

Part 2

"Have you eaten, hon?"

Sitting Indian style on the bed, I shook my head, trying to imagine her reaction if I asked her if she wanted to visit a Shaman with me for a mystic version of a good old fashioned exorcism. Just for fun.

"Well, I left you twenty Dollars, why didn't you get anything?"

"I had those sandwiches before I left."

"That was hours ago, aren't you hungry?"

"I suppose," I replied, "Not ravenous or anything."

"How was your day, did you see Roxy?"

"No, I went to the Library."

"You did? What for?"

"Researching stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Spiritual parasites."

There was really no reason to not tell her and I hated lying to her; I didn't want any more of that kind of guilt than I was already shouldering. Her reaction was to abruptly turn with an amused expression of surprise, one brow raised and smirking.

" ... Well, what did you find?"

"Nothing that really fits us," I replied, only bending the truth there with a sheepish smile.

"You should have researched mind control, hon."

"That wouldn't give us a basic understanding of what we are, though," I countered, remembering our time upon the wind as a joined, symbiotic creature with no identity or ultimate will, much like the articles I read described the spiritual parasite as it moves without a host. "The more we know about what we are, the more we know what questions we should be asking."

"I think all the answers we need are within us. We just have to... You know."

"Yes."

" ... Tonight?"

"I have to work tomorrow."

"So?"

"I don't want to drink any more today."

"Well... you could have some right after supper and we can try it then. You'll have plenty of time to work it out of your system that way."

"Mu-um," I softly complained.

She didn't answer right away, but gave me a disappointed look and turned to the table, taking out the rest of the KFC left over from the previous night and loading a plate for the microwave.

"You're afraid."

She didn't say it as a taunt or accusation, simply a fact that she understood.

"I just... don't like rushing ahead on this without knowing where it'll take us."

"But it's the only way we can find out," Mum complained, closing the oven door and getting it started before turning around with her cigarettes. "I mean, how else? You said yourself that you couldn't find anything at the Library and even if you did, we'd probably still have to take that next step anyway."

There she went, making perfect sense again. I watched her pause long enough to light a smoke before continuing.

"Just remember that nothing bad happened the first time, in fact we both enjoyed it a lot, especially when we finally got talking about it later."

"I just think we should hold off until..."

"What?" she prodded during my pause, throwing her arms out to her sides with a slightly impatient expression.

" ... I don't know," I miserably admitted.

" ... Okay, how about this? We just... look into each other's eyes, no sex."

The oven beeped as I thought about this, wondering if this wouldn't be just as bad, at least where my own activities and the importance of keeping them from her were concerned. She didn't turn to collect the plate, but continued to stand there, waiting expectantly for an answer, her hopes that I'd agree written plainly in her features until she decided to prod a little.

" ... You know, my uhhh, other son... He'd..."

" ... Have the guts?" I asked, not able to keep my irritation at what she was hinting at out of my tone.

"That's not what I mean, it's just that he's..."

"What?"

Now I was challenging her and that wasn't lost on Mum at all.

"Okay, y'know what? You can just wipe that look right off your face! Don't you dare question my feelings for you, not ever! You hear me, Mister!? I'm out there with my ass on the line for you and I won't put up with-!"

I'd gotten off the bed and walked to the table, my gait communicating the hopelessness of the situation, the way I casually grabbed the bottle telling her how frustrating it was for me, my manner in removing the cap and taking a heavy gulp of the stuff speaking of the tired, almost uncaring resignation of my surrender.

"Fine, Mum. I'll do it."

She didn't know how to take that. I could see some satisfaction in that I'd agreed, but some concern over my attitude about it as well.

" ... I really do love both sides of you, you know. Without you, he's nothing. I've told you both that."

"Yup. And I love her like I do you. Same reasons. The problem is, I don't get to see her anymore and I guess before long, she won't get to see me anymore, either."

"Oh my god, you are so hard to deal with sometimes! I told you that we may need to find a balance! You think I'm not concerned about this!? You've never met my mother! Don't think-! ... (sigh!) ... Son," she went on in a lower, softer voice that almost pleaded, "don't think I'm skipping through the sunshine and lollipops on this; I assure you I'm not and I've told you that. The last thing I want is for us to end up like my mother and, if there's a reason to fear that, we have to find out as soon as possible so we can... do something."

"But what if doing this stuff speeds it along? That's what I'm afraid of."

At least I could be truthful of this much, having good reason to believe that to be the case after Audrey and now polo shirt guy as well.

"Honey, I... I don't know that. I admit it, but if you stop and think, there's no other way for us to get any answers."

"There's no guarantee we'll get answers that way."

"But there's no guarantee we won't, so we have to try. You know I'm right."

She was. And were it not for what I had to hide from her, I'd have agreed a lot easier, probably even supporting her suggested course of action. But the fact was that I'd agreed anyway, and I meant to go through with it, too. My only hope was that he could make it work somehow. I took another drink and nodded, going back to the bed afterward.

" ... Don't worry, sweetie pie, everything will be fine. We'll be together."

About a half hour after we ate, after the rye had had the chance to work its magic before receding to the arrival of Mum's other son, we both sat Indian style on the bed, facing one another. I could see she was glad to see me as him, but it didn't much bother me. I guess that was to be expected, given who I was at the time.

"Are you ready?" she asked with a nervous smile.

"Yup," I sighed. "No talking, no laughing or smiling. First one who does loses, right?"

"Silly! It's not a stare down contest, we're just... you know."

"What if we both accidently fall under each other's Jedi spell and sit here until Roxy decides to come looking?" I asked, only half joking.

"I doubt that'll happen. I'm stronger than you, so I'd naturally overcome your spell. Remember, I'm older and I've been using this, but that's not what we're doing, anyway. We're just looking one another in the eyes. I suggest we think of how we love each other when we do."

"Okay," I replied to her still slightly nervous, yet happy smile. "Let's do this, then."

Actually, I figured that focusing on my very positive feelings for her was a good way to hide certain stuff she might find out about the same way Marie found out about Pastor Marx's hand in the collection plate. This didn't mean I was any less nervous than her, even more so I'm sure but, at the time, I felt able to handle it a lot better as him.

We brought our eyes to meet and after a few slightly uncomfortable smiles and some blinking, we settled into our little experiment. I soon felt more comfortable with her direct gaze, staring into the inky depths of her beautiful, hazel eyes. This was the first chance I'd ever had to really study them, but I still had to dare my own unapologetic stare. Concentrating on my love for her, I found it easier, not so much a chance I was taking with a frightening unknown, but more like stepping into a very nice garden with fountains, birds...

Every time she blinked I was welcomed back to the garden anew to see a little more of it each time, the feeling of being a valued, trusted friend, an estranged lover impressing upon my emotions until I was utterly lost in these feelings from her which I could easily sense. It was as though I'd moved behind her eyelids and stayed there after she closed them, absorbed by her being before they opened again in that proverbial and literal blink of the eye.

She was so warm. So soft and loving. She surrounded me, touching every part of me in her special way until I experienced something spectacular. The only way I can describe it is to compare it to a low key orgasm, except it just went on and on, pouring from my every cell, thought and memory, blotting out anything and everything else that I ever foolishly thought of as pleasurable.

"I love you... so much."

I was on the outside again, on our bed and alone with Mum, blinking in confusion at where I'd been and how I got there, how I got back and how long I was gone. She was looking at me with tears running down her cheeks and I was amazed to find some running down mine, too.

"So much, sweetie pie. We're so special together. Our love..."

"I... Oh, Mum."

I threw my arms around her and pushed her down underneath me with a feeling, a need for her that was impossible to satisfy, intense beyond all imagining and had nothing to do with sex. We kissed and made out passionately for a long time before the powerful aftereffect of the experience mostly wore off. By that time, we were lying together the way we sleep, slowly and softly stroking each other's hair and bodies while smiling so contentedly at one another.

We talked about it until late, comparing our shared, yet slightly differing experience, finding that hers was the more detailed and clear of the two. Neither one of us felt anything but joy and love when we were in 'the garden', for want of a better term for where and whatever it was or is. We didn't even have sex afterwards.