Author's note
It's interesting what can happen in the span of a few hours with a few shared words. In this story, we will find how that applies to a mother and her son whose relationship changes within a single conversation.
If you have concerns over what content may be in a story, please read the story tags before proceeding. If a subject is not of interest, this may not be the story for you. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy.
As always, all characters are over the age of 18.
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April 2003
Evelyn Harper wouldn't normally drink scotch, but tonight was an exception. The bottle, a single malt, was already set at the wet bar, accompanied by two simple lowball glasses. Ice was at the ready, though not required. It mellowed the experience, and something that she had learned was that even the most peaty spirits were best tackled in small sips. It let your palate adjust, slowly. Eventually it leads to a more pleasurable experience, but always best performed one sip at a time.
Looking around the room, her lips moved, speaking in less than a whisper as she inventoried the scene, taking stock of the cozy den. She would sit in the tufted chaise lounge, while he likely would reside on the armchair beside it. He would keep his drink in his left hand, closer to the coaster, which would keep his attention fixed on her. There was just something special about the way he looked at her that sent her heart fluttering and this should maximize that outcome.
As she walked about, she stopped for a moment at the bar catching her reflection in the wood-framed standing mirror. She smiled, noting the results of the last few days of pampering. Her blonde hair recently trimmed and styled to hang layered and just below her shoulders. The spa treatment had put her so at ease, skin still soft and tight, eyebrows expertly trimmed. She opted for a very light and natural approach to her makeup tonight and was pleased with the results. She looked regal, sophisticated, and dare she say; sexy.
Stepping back, she noted her attire, adjusting her pose to see herself from as many angles as possible. Her top fit perfectly, a white sleeveless button-up blouse, top two buttons undone. As she pushed out her chest, the buttons stressed to hold her bust, just barely hinting at the black bra beneath. As she looked lower, she focused on the black pencil skirt. It hugged her hips, the bottom hem sitting six inches above her knees. Turning around, she smiled seeing how it accentuated her backside. She smoothed out the pleating, picking a strand of lint off her rump before looking down to her feet where she wore two black pumps, or as she called it, her "lucky pair." Everything was perfect, and according to the grandfather clock in the corner, she still had ten minutes to spare.
Evelyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath, counting to twenty while inhaling and another twenty to let the air back out. Calm. Collected. She opened her eyes, slowly, making eye contact with her reflection in the mirror. The woman before her looked ready. With another deep breath, she nodded her head and relaxed.
A sudden yet soft tap on the window perked her ears. Driven by curiosity, she approached the diamond-grilled windows that overlooked the outside courtyard. The patio lights were still off, so there wasn't any motion. But what was that-
Another soft tap, this time right in front of her eyes. On the glass, perfectly between the diamond muntin bars was a single spec of water. Then another, and another. Within moments a soft pitter-patter could be heard as drops of rain began to sprinkle across the panes of glass.
What started as a light sprinkle quickly evolved into a downpour. Out in the streets, people ran down the sidewalk, some laughing, some grumbling as they passed the multiple stoops of the crowded brownstone townhouses. The few cars out on the narrow roadways found themselves navigating flooded streets and bike lanes due to the overwhelmed storm drains. Many failed to slow down or neglected it altogether, and sent large waves of water spraying on the bystanders that happened to be near.
"Come on, man!" Aiden yelled as he stood on the sidewalk watching the car continue on its path, seemingly oblivious or non-apologetic to the deluge it sprayed upon him.
It was insult added to injury. Already soaked, Aiden turned, adjusted his backpack on his shoulders, and carried his bicycle up the steps to a dark blue door.
"Mom! Hello!" he called out as he entered, dripping. Immediately he found a pile of towels in the entryway.
"Hi, Baby-Oh!" Evelyn said as she rounded the corner and caught sight of her son. "You're absolutely soaked! Aiden, the towels! Use them before you drip all over the hardwood."
"Thanks," he said as he picked up a rag and wiped his face, dropping his backpack by the door. "I'll need a few extra for my bike."
"Use those first. I'll get more."
Aiden cleaned off his bike and left it to lean in the entryway while his mother returned with another towel.
"You look like a drowned rat," she said with a smile. "That bad out there?"
"It's pretty gnarly. Sorry I'm late."
"You're fine," she said, waving it off with her hand. "I hardly noticed. You know, I would prefer you take a bus or taxi."
"Just trying to stay fit, Mom. Isn't a little exercise a good thing?"
"My love, you could miss a month at the gym and still be batting off the girls on campus, I'm sure. At least check the weather next time," she said. "Did you have dinner?"
"Yeah, I snagged something at the café before I took off."
"Good."
"You?"
"Had some leftovers from lunch with Tina."
Aiden toweled off his light brown hair leaving it wild and slightly shaggy.
"You ready?" he asked.
"I am, but you are not."
Aiden's brow furrowed.
"What? I totally am."
"Ha! The hell you are!" Evelyn laughed. "You are a mess. I'm not having you sit on my furniture like that. Go upstairs and get cleaned up."
"I didn't bring a change of clothes."
"Just grab something from your father's closet."
Aiden paused before responding.
"You still haven't got rid of them?"
Evelyn shook her head.
"Go," she said.
Taking a moment to look at his mother, he turned and walked up the stairs.
"Oh, and Aiden?" she called after him. He stopped halfway up. "You'll have to use my shower."
"What's wrong with the guest bath?"
"Plumbing's been making noises. I have someone coming out Monday to take a look."
"Okay. Thanks," he said, then turned and walked up the stairs.
Evelyn poured her first drink while listening to the sounds of the shower above her head. The solitude of the house now warmed by company, and her favorite company at that. Yet, the scene was still not quite right. Something was still missing. A grin spread across her face as her eyes settled on the old record player in the corner. Within moments the room was filled with the lightly crackling sound of a needle locked in the groove of a vinyl record and playing the smooth stylings of Ella Fitzgerald.
Drink in hand, Evelyn laid back on the chaise lounge, propping her head up on the armrest as she looked to the ceiling. Her mind's eye tracked to the spot where she suspected her son was just one floor up. She sang softly to herself, harmonizing perfectly to an improvised vocal solo.
When she heard the squeak of the shower stop, so did she. It was minutes away from game time.
Aiden's heavy footsteps announced his arrival as he walked down the stairs. His mother was already standing at the entry to the den, watching as he arrived. Her eyebrow twitched for a moment as this young man strode toward her. She had wondered what he would select from his father's wardrobe. He had chosen a set of tan slacks and a light blue button-up shirt. She was pleased to see they fit almost perfectly. The shirt was a little big, but he rolled the sleeves to fit his arms better. He had opted for bare feet, no shoes or socks. That part was interesting in its own regard. Perhaps he wasn't ready to walk in his father's shoes quite yet.
"Find everything alright?"
"Yeah. Thanks," he replied.
"Those look good on you. But your collar is not quite right," she said as she walked up into his space. As she had done a thousand times before, Evelyn reached around his neck and straightened the band and neckline of his shirt.
"You really should get yourself a girl to do this for you, you know."
"Working on that, Mom," he said.
"Good."
She tugged at the collar and flattened the creases across his chest.
"There. Much better." She beamed up at him with a warm smile, taking a moment to soak in her handsome son. "You really do have a lot of his features."
"I thought you got rid of his things already. Are we gonna talk about that?"
"Perhaps. Just not tonight."
"... Okay," Aiden replied.
"Come on."
Evelyn walked into the den and picked up her glass, then a second already filled with a generous pour. She reached out and offered the glass to her son as a deep roll of thunder reverberated through the house.
"Thank you," he said as he let his eyes fall to his mother. "You look great by the way. Absolutely stunning. Did you have already have plans tonight?"
"No," she said cheerfully. "Just wanted to look nice for you."
Aiden smiled and felt a slight warming of his cheeks. Evelyn noticed.
"Cheers," she said as they clinked their glasses. Her eyes never left him as they both sipped.
"Mmm," Aiden hummed and pulled back to look at the glass. "This one new?"
