The weather was awful, it was winter, cold wet and on higher ground, like where we live, the snow was falling incessantly and continually causing roads to be blocked until the snow ploughs could get to them.
I'd been home only two days, I hadn't seen my mum yet, and it was only another two days until Christmas. I'd been away at University since the beginning of October, my second year, some would say the hardest year, I know that's how I felt so I was glad to be home. That is, I was glad to be at my grandparents' home. I'd been raised by them, my single mum living alone in a flat in the town whereas my grandparents lived in a large dorma bungalow a couple of miles or so out of town. The arrangement had suited everyone when I was growing up, I had the occasional 'sleep over' with my mum but to be honest she was more a big sister than a mother to me. When I say 'big' I mean older, because at five feet tall (on a good day) and weighing in at probably less than a hundred pounds she was far from big, except for those 'ladies' as she called them, her boobs, she was definitely top heavy, in a very sexy way as my friends never failed to remind me.
I'd been shopping with my grandmother, at her request, and then gone into town with the intention of meeting a couple of old friends for a pint or two. I couldn't find them in the usual haunts so was working my way around the couple of other pubs in the town when I walked into a very small 'olde world' pub and found my mum, sat in a corner and acting 'tipsy'. She was with a small group of friends and immediately she saw me screamed at me to "get over here!"
It had been fairly late when I got into town, so a couple of hours later it was very late, and definitely time to go, and that's when the 'fun' started.
To this day, mum swears she wasn't drunk, she'd been slipped a 'mickey', and to be honest that was a remote possibility, there were some low lives who thought it funny to randomly spike women's drinks, it had been happening locally for a few months.
When I walked my little mum out of that pub the gale that was blowing seemed to want to just pick her up and throw her. On top of that, she could hardly stand. With my arm around her waist we made our way towards the apartment block where she lived. She was 'dizzy', she felt 'sick', she was going to die! Then she was sick, fortunately into a drain! The walk that would normally have taken about five minutes took what seemed like forever. I dragged her, I cajoled her, I partially carried her. It was snowing heavily, we were both slipping, we were both getting very wet, and then to top it all, mum started crying and announced that she had actually wet herself!
By the time I got her into her apartment she was a mess, she was dripping wet, and not just with the snow that had more or less gone straight through the leather coat she was wearing. I got her into her bathroom where she just collapsed onto the floor with her head over the toilet bowl and proceeded to be violently sick, again.
I couldn't leave, not with her in such a state, so having taken off my own coat I helped her off with hers. She was soaked to the skin, literally. Having gotten her coat off her I was faced with the prospect of getting her lucid enough to take off the rest of her clothes herself.
It wasn't going to happen, she just couldn't get her act together enough to even try, and she knew it.
"You'll have to help me Johnny, I'm bloody soaked!"
She was soaked alright, and in more than one way.
I helped my mother strip off, I'd never seen her naked before, but I had seen her in her underwear, she was never exactly shy. She was the same naked, with her head still in the toilet bowl she had me unfasten her bra and pull her (very small) panties off of her. Being naked didn't bother her at all. She was a strange almost green colour, she said she was dying over and over again.
I managed to get her into a warm bath and wash her down before pouring her into bed, but not before I was forced to help her with her feminine hygiene, a step I thought was well beyond a son's duties.
I sent a text to my grandparents saying I was staying over and made myself up a bed on the sofa. In the past whenever I'd stayed I'd used a sleeping bag, but I couldn't find it so used all the towels I could find. I'd been almost as wet as mum so put all my clothes on the radiators and went into a fairly uncomfortable and fitful sleep.
When I woke next morning I realised that something was wrong. I was frozen! The flat seemed very dark and very cold, and on investigation I discovered that the electricity was off. My clothes were almost, but not entirely dry. I had no choice however than to put them back on.
I'd just gathered up all the towels and was wondering what to do with them when mum came sort of stumbling into the room.
"Give me coffee, hot coffee!"
I explained the situation. "Ok, we'll go out!" She wouldn't be dissuaded, even when I pointed out that I couldn't see any sign that there was any power anywhere I could see from the windows.
Not to be deterred, mum disappeared into her bedroom and only a few minutes later reappeared ready to leave. She had never been one of those women who take an age to get ready, her clothes were nearly always a combination of black and red, usually multiple layers of thin, almost see-through materials on top, and loose skirts with thick black tights on her legs. Her make-up was fairly heavy but seemingly very quickly applied, and always black.
We went out, and surprisingly we did find a little coffee shop open, boiling kettles on gas and selling egg and bacon sandwiches, everything being individually cooked in a frying pan. After a large mug of coffee and half way through a second my little mum became more or less normal.
"I take it you stripped me and got me to bed?"
"Yeah."
"And my tampon?"
"Mum, you were begging me to help you, you were drunk, you were throwing up and you'd pee'd yourself, I had to. And when you started crying about being 'on' and needing a new tampon.... What was I supposed to do?"
