Georgina worried about Peter. She couldn't help it: she was his mother. Mother's always worry about their kids. Peter was twenty but somehow the mother bit of her brain still thought of him as her little boy.
Georgina herself was only thirty-six. She'd got pregnant in high school – big mistake – married Greg Robinson, Peter's dad, straight after graduation, with an eight month belly and after fifteen years together, found herself abruptly single when Greg fucked off with some bimbo he'd been screwing on the side.
And yes, she was bitter. Hell hath no fury... ain't the half of it. When Greg was killed in a car accident six months ago, she refused to go to his funeral and absolutely refused to discuss him with Peter. She was glad he was dead. If she had a regret, it was that he hadn't suffered – she'd hoped he'd been trapped in a burning wreck, screaming his last but the coroner's report said that he'd been killed instantly. Dumb luck!
Things have a way of coming out after a death. Peter found himself a man of property, inheriting a surprisingly nice house. It surprised him for two reasons: He hadn't realized how well his father's business interests had been doing, and he hadn't realized that his father gave a shit about him. After five years of absolute silence, to discover that he'd left his only son everything was... Well, it was only the first of many shocks.
Peter had spent the whole of his last break from college going through his Dad's things and clearing out the house. He found several letters to his mother in his father's PC: They were full of contrition. He'd begged for them to try again. Peter wondered if his dad had ever posted the letters. Did Mom know how much Greg had wanted to come home?
Possibly the biggest surprise the house held was an old briefcase full of Polaroids and video tapes. Peter was stunned at how sexy his mother looked naked. He became a little obsessed with the images of his parents fucking and spent hours masturbating while watching the amateur video footage. When he went back to college, he took the private porn collection with him and digitised the lot onto his laptop.
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[Excerpt from Georgina's journal]
Peter's still shut up in his room all day: I wish I knew how to help him. I tried broaching the subject of Janey again last night. He just shrugged and went back to his room.
There was a brown bag in the trash this morning. I'm not proud of myself but I peeked. It looks like Peter's thrown out all the old girlie magazines from under his mattress. Of course, I can't ask about them: I officially don't know they've been under his bed for 6 years.
I do wish he'd talk to me. I guess I just have to give him time.
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Peter is sitting at the table in his boxer shorts, eating cereal when Georgina comes downstairs the next morning.
"Good morning Peter, You going to stay up long enough for me to wash your bedding today?"
"Morning Mom. Yeah. I'm gonna go to the beach." Sarcasm is wasted on kids.
Georgina is relieved to hear he's actually going to do something more than just mooching around the house all day. Maybe Peter is finally getting over his doldrums.
"Coffee?" She's pleasantly surprised to see that the coffee's already brewed. She picks up the jug and turns to the table.
"Thanks Mom." Peter is staring fixedly at the last Cheerio, floating in a little pool of milk in his spoon. As Georgina fills his cup, she notices that Peter's other hand is stroking a conspicuous erection through his shorts. She's so taken aback she spills coffee on the table.
"Peter!" Her voice is far too loud. Peter instantly lets go of his crotch.
"Sorry Mom. I guess I was daydreaming..."
"I thought we'd had all the birds and bees talks. Do we need to discuss boundaries?" Her tone is frostily matriarchal.
"I said sorry. It's just... This cheerio reminds me of something..."
"Thank God for that! I thought for a moment my son had a cereal fetish."
"It's not the cereal. It's the shape." Peter is acutely embarrassed and disinclined to discuss this.
"Donuts. It's donuts isn't it? Janey caught you in flagrante with a ring donut and-"
"Shut up Mom. Janey broke up with me because I wanted anal sex and she thinks I'm a pervert. I wasn't gonna tell you but since you won't stop asking me until I do... Now you know." As he unloads, the anger ebbs out of him.
Georgina goes around the table and hugs him. It's something mothers are good at. After a moment, Peter relaxes against her, his head conveniently at bosom height – always the best place to ride out an emotional storm. He continues, apparently changing the subject.
"I cleared out Dad's house. He'd kept all the photos he took of you."
Georgina tenses.
"I never told Janey about them. She'd really think I'm a pervert if she knew why I want anal sex."
Georgina lets go of him, stepping away slowly. She's appalled by what she's sure is coming.
"You have an unbelievably sexy ass hole. Just like a bran Cheerio..."
"No!" Georgina's hand shoots to her mouth and she flees the room. Peter listens to her quick feet on the stairs.
