Nothing changed after that night. Ms Magunderson was still terse with me in class, challenging me more than any of the other students. My mother and I still carpooled; and I tried not to treat her any differently, give away what I saw. But in my efforts to remain casual, I began to over-analyze. I would find myself unsure whether I should look into her eyes as I spoke to her, or look away. I wanted to treat her the same as always, as though I had never seen her ride that champagne bottle as though it were a cock, as though I had never heard Ms Magunderson make her cum. But I couldn't remember whether I would have looked at her before or look away. And so I was like a socially backward being, completely relearning all the ways in which two people—two family members—are supposed to behave to one another. I tried not to think about it, but the more I tried not to, the more I did.
Two weeks later, I sat in the car, riding to the university, watching the where the edge of her grey skirt was pulled tight against her thigh, and I watched that long leg work the gas and brake. It was the same gentle gesture she had used with the champagne bottle. I kept telling myself it was Ms Magunderson I was attracted to, it was because of her that I spent every night remembering that evening as I masturbated. But as I sat in the car, trying not to watch her creamy white thigh and attempting to keep my erection hidden but comfortable, I had to admit that I was sexually attracted to my mother. Sexually obsessed with her. But her world was so different from mine, even though we lived in the same house. She was a divorcee with lovers, with a career, with a keen knowledge of how to get what she wanted. I was a virgin freshman who could barely hold his own life together.
She pulled up by the student centre to drop me off, and leaned over to give me a little peck on the cheek, as she often did. "Have a good day, son."
"Thanks mom, you too."
I got out of the car, turning away quickly and dropping my backback down to hide the crotch of my pants. I watched her drive off towards faculty parking.
"So that's your grad student lover?"
I turned around Morag was there, voluptuous in a red skirt and white t-shirt.
"Hey, how are you doing?" I asked, not wanting to address the imbroglio of a lie that Vernon had concocted for me to win Morag. The lie basically consisted of building upon a rumour that I had an older lover, a teacher from the philosophy department. Vernon's idea was that it would work up feelings of jealousy in Morag. Vernon understood women more than me, so I went along with it. But I could already see problems ahead.
"Late night last night?" she asked.
"I'd rather not talk about it."
"Trouble in paradise?"
"Let's just say that Vernon was making more out of this than there really is."
"Oh. Anything you need to talk about?"
"I'd rather not."
"Okay," Morag shrugged nonchalantly. "See you at lunch?"
"Yeah," I said, giving a little wave as we parted ways and headed off to our classes.
The seven of us met in the cafeteria at lunch, and as usual I had to fend off questions about my older lover from Oscar, Karl and Billy. Vernon was no help, he and Hannah mostly looked at each other and whispered and giggled. But Morag didn't look as pissed off as usual. Maybe the fact that I had hinted that things weren't that great with my lover had encouraged her. I hated the whole lie. I wanted to tell everyone the truth, blame it all on Vernon, but I couldn't. But I must have raised my voice, because everyone suddenly went silent. I looked at Morag and she looked back at me sympathetically. She was beautiful. Perhaps a little on the chubby side, but such breasts! Right now I just wanted to hide from everything and curl up between them.
Conversations started up at either end of the table, and I found myself and Morag momentarily alone. I swallowed hard, then spoke.
"What are you doing after school?"
She looked genuinely surprised and pleased by the question. "Nothing."
"I've got some errands to do, but maybe we could hang out later?"
"Yeah, I'd like that. I can come with you when you do your errands."
All afternoon I was on a high. I didn't think about my mother or Ms Magunderson, just about Morag, her pretty face, her curly dark hair, and her big, sexy curves. Part of me wondered if she was too chubby. I mean, she wasn't the sort of woman you see in playboy. But then, she turned me on, so that should be enough. She met me after school, and we walked to the bus-stop.
"I've got to stop by and drop off some mail for my father."
The bus pulled up and we got on. It was pretty full, so we ended up standing near the back.
"Your parents are divorced, right?"
"Yeah, but every now and then we still get some mail for him."
"Is it hard, having divorced parents?"
"It was at first, but they were really good about it, they were very conscious of what I was going through. My dad teaches English over at JFU."
"Not Edgar Hook?"
"Yeah, you know of him?"
"Yeah, I took a first-year class with him last year, before I transferred here. Wow. I never put it together that he was your dad."
"He's a good guy, but I don't see much of him now. I live with my mother. I know it's pretty lame, still living at home while going to college."
"No, I did the same last year. I saved up for an apartment—or at least half of an apartment this year."
"You've got a roommate?"
"Yeah, this goth friend of mine who's taking criminology. Wow, I can't believe you're Professor Hook's kid. You look like him, though."
We arrived at the university, and went to the humanities building.
"I'm going to wait down here, if that's all right," Morag said.
"You don't want to come up and see him?"
"No, that's fine."
"Okay." I went up the elevator on my own to the third floor.
"Hello, Sean." It was Sandra, the department secretary.
"Is my dad in?"
"He's with a student."
"Okay, I'll wait," I said, sitting down in one of the chairs. I debated just dropping the letters off, but I knew the dutiful thing was to stick around and say hello to him. It didn't take long. After a couple minutes, a rail-thin girl with an untucked shirt and short skirt came down the hall. She walked past me with a glazed look in her eyes, then a moment later my dad came down the hall.
