This is how it all began.
My mother had been divorced from my workaholic father for 3 years this past weekend. I know watching her that the anniversary of their divorce weighed heavy on her spirit, as she was rather quiet and pretty much stayed to herself over the last few days. Knowing that she liked her privacy, I occupied myself with my friends and watching some US Open tennis matches in my room.
Whenever we did pass each other in the house, I smiled at her knowingly and gave her a warm hug every now and then. I kinda amused myself with the realization that I had now grown to be an inch or two taller than my mom, who was 5'6", and weighed about 140. I was now 18 and although a bit small for my age, I had good muscle tone that had developed as I was on the High School swim team and during the summers I have played little league baseball since I was 7.
I have always felt that I was partially responsible for my parents divorce because I would complain that my father never supported me, nor came to see me compete in sports. My mother assured me that my complaints were not the reason for her finally deciding to send my father packing, but I knew that they had argued a few times about how I was growing up without a father and not only was I being affected, but my mother was tired of doing everything around the house on her own.
My father would always scoff at her and remind her that he was busy earning money for the family while he was out of the house, always putting an emphasis on just how much money he earned as Manager of a Real Estate development corporation. He did site analysis so he would travel extensively throughout the New England area. At times, he would be away for 6-8 weeks, during which he may make 2 or 3 phone calls home.
His distance lead my mother to wonder if her spouse of 19 years was cheating on her. He denied any extra marital activities, however, he did admit that he thought about cheating on my mother every once in awhile because their sex life was now pretty much nonexistent.
Of course I couldn't blame her for not wanting to have sex with him. Over the years not only had he become emotional vacant, he had let his physical appearance slide and now walked around sporting a fairly large beer stomach. So after he missed last Christmas and not calling for five weeks, mom sat down with me one evening and began to cry. She looked at me through her tears, her black mascara starting to stream down her cheeks. I held her close and kept on telling her that it was going to be okay, that we don't need him in our lives.
She was so confused as to what to do, she was actually shaking while I held onto her. I remember her smelling so wonderful because she had just gotten out of the bath, her body still maintaining the warmth of the water. My nose nestled into her soft neck, breathing her scent deeply. We were rocking back and forth, holding each other until she broke our hug and looked at me, her mascara smeared down her cheeks. I joked to her that she looked like one of the guys from KISS. She broke out laughing and we fall to the floor tickling each other, giving each other reassuring hugs and touches. Since my mom had taken her bath, she only had on her terry cloth robe which fell open slightly as we rolled around on the floor.