My Two Mothers

A/N - Been a while since I've uploaded a single chapter story in this category. Hope you enjoy it.

Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of reading the following: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, and bad grammar at times.

Proofreading and editing suggestions provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.

Comments are appreciated as always.

Feedback by email is always welcome. Enjoy chatting with anyone who likes my work.

*****

I was fourteen years old the day my father walked in the front door of our home, sat my mother down at the dining table and announced that he was leaving her. My mother was a proud, confident woman, but hearing that her husband was leaving her immediately led to questions and accusations and eventually one hell of a shouting match as he almost happily admitted to his long-term infidelity.

My respect for the man plummeted after I walked into the dining room, unaware of the conversation as I'd been rather distracted in my bedroom with homework and then gaming, normally until Mum would lightly tap on my door when dinner was ready. Aware of the time and it was later than usual, I walked out to see my mother at the table, head in her hands and obviously upset, while I heard my father in the bedroom.

"Mum?" I asked softly. Seeing her lift her head and gaze at me, eyes wet with tears, I was immediately at her side to cuddle her as I felt her shake in my arms, "What's wrong, Mum?"

She didn't sob as I knew she was doing her best to rein in her emotions. "Ask your father," she finally replied, "Let him tell you what he just told me."

Leaning back, her green eyes were still wet behind the thin frames as she'd worn glasses nearly her entire life. Clearing some of her black hair away from her face made her smile. I'd always thought my mother was a beautiful woman. Her lower lip started to tremble as I left a kiss on her cheek. I'd never been embarrassed by showing my mother any sort of affection. I always hugged her before either of us left in the morning and always hugged her when she knocked on my door, ensuring I opened it up and I was greeted by a smile and then a hug that we both cherished.

Walking towards my parents' bedroom, it was a sanctuary I rarely entered. I never entered without knocking or asking permission as much as they returned that level of respect regarding my bedroom. Noticing my father had a suitcase on the bed and was busy packing, I cleared my throat as he came to a stop.

"Ah, Mark... Yes... Well..."

"What's going on, Dad?" I asked.

He cleared his throat, looking awkward as I still didn't know what was going on. He finally straightened up. "I guess you're old enough to understand. I'm leaving your mother, Mark. I'm tired of living a lie."

"What sort of lie?" I was fourteen but I wasn't stupid. I knew married people had affairs all the time. I also knew men and women lived in the closet. Or maybe he was just tired of being married.

I also knew it was an awkward question, wondering if I'd get a lie or the truth. "I've been intimate with my personal assistant at work for the past five years. I plan on being with her from now on."

"Oh..." My fourteen-year-old mind could comprehend what he'd just told me, but what else could I ask except, "What about Mum? What about me?"

"You're still important to me, Mark. I won't forego my responsibility to my son. I'm still your father and I still love you. As for your mother, she's more than capable of raising you while I'm not here and I will happily leave her this house and contents."

"Where will you go?"

"I already have an apartment sorted out where I will be living from now on."

"Oh... So, um, you had this planned?"

"I've been planning this for a while." He walked over and rested a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry to spring this on you like this, son. What I don't want you to do is blame yourself for this. And your mother isn't to blame either. We haven't been terribly close in a long time, and I've found someone else to love."

I knew bullshit when I heard it, but I wasn't going to get into an argument with him then and there. Nodding my head, I let him continue packing as I returned to the dining room. Mum had been preparing dinner as things were still on the stove. I tried to help her wherever possible when it came to dinner, and I was good when it came to chores. Turning everything back on, Mum lifted herself from her chair, grabbing a couple of tissues. Even at fourteen, I was nearly taller than her, and I knew she needed another hug.

"I love you, Mum," I whispered.

"Thank you, baby. I love you too."

"Dad told me. I kind of hate him right now. It's not right."

"It's not... But he's your father. That's all I'll say for now."

My father didn't reappear until he'd obviously grabbed everything he wanted and taken it out to his car. To my surprise, he placed keys on the table along with a piece of paper.

"We obviously can't divorce for a year from now. Australian laws and all that," he stated, "These are the only keys I have to the property. If you want the locks changed, I'll pay for it."

"Why?" Mum asked, "Why bother?"

"Look, I know what I've done, Madeline. I simply want to make all of this as painless as possible."

"Painless for you... Fuck you, Brian. Fuck you and that slut who works for you."

Dad simply nodded his head. "I deserve that. All I ask is that you allow me to visit Mark from time to time. I won't be forgetting about my son in all this."

Mum met my eyes. I didn't make a single gesture as I was still processing what was going on. "You realise you'll be on the hook for child support until he's eighteen," she finally said.

"Which I'll pay willingly as I'm his father and still want to spend as much time with my son as possible. But given we both earn roughly the same..."

Mum snorted derisively. "Of course, you're worried about that, aren't you? You cheat on me, fuck around for God knows how long, and you're worried about having to pay me a little money, aren't you?"

Dad sighed. "Look, I'm going to go. On this piece of paper are the details of my lawyer. There is also the address of my apartment. Yes, I've been setting this up for some time as I didn't want this dragging out. Fact is we haven't been happy for a long time, Madeline." Mum surprisingly didn't have a retort to that. Maybe she felt the same but stayed married for whatever reason. "Yes, I know I've been cheating, but part of the reason was that I didn't want to break up the family home. Mark is now fourteen years old, and I think can understand that marriages do come to an end."

Mum visibly deflated. "Just go, Brian," she finally muttered, "Just go."

Dad nodded, glancing my way. I glanced at Mum and returned my eyes to his, shaking my head. I couldn't follow him out and leave Mum alone. I think he sensed my thoughts, earning a nod of what I liked to think was respect. What he didn't realise is that I had none for him then and there. He's just torn out his wife's heart, the same heart which loved her son completely, and she already looked a shadow of the vibrant woman I was so used to seeing each and every day.

To my surprise, Mum didn't hit the bottle that night or on subsequent nights. I heard her crying that night in bed, unable to sleep until I knocked on her door, Mum opened her arms as I slid onto the bed, feeling her shake and sob as I tried my best to make her feel better.

"I'll always love you, Mum," I promised.

After that night, Mum threw herself into three things. Her work, her few friends, and raising me. She'd always shown an interest in my life, but as much as she showed interest in me, as soon as she knocked on my door, I'd join her in the living room, asking about her day, almost being her sounding board as she'd slide out of her heels and massage her pretty little feet. Sometimes wearing stockings, sometimes not...

We ate dinner together nearly every night, not missing the fact we usually headed out at least once or twice a week. Mum would dress up occasionally and ask me to wear something nice, and as I turned fifteen and the divorce loomed, I knew Mum had been relying on me for emotional support. Though I had plenty of good friends, they were aware of what was going on and I never liked being far away from her. My friends liked coming to my place, and more than once, Mum thanked me for ensuring the house wasn't too gloomy and quiet all the time.

As for my father, he had bought himself one hell of a nice apartment closer to the city. What I found hilarious is that within three months of moving out, the relationship with his personal assistant had fizzled out. Apparently, she had loved being his piece on the side, receiving all the gifts a mistress does, and all the attention that came with in, but when it came to a permanent relationship, she wasn't interested at all. And from the little I did learn, my father hadn't been clued in at all.

I did visit him every so often as although I hated what he did to my mother, he was still my father and I still loved him. I just found it difficult to truly forgive him. It was around six months after he moved out when I was having dinner at his place one night when I had to ask him a question.

"So what will you do now?"

He chewed on his rather nicely cooked steak as he nodded. "I'm not going back to your mother."

"Dad, she wouldn't take you back anyway."

"Touche," he stated, managing a rueful chuckle, "Mark... I'm serious when I say neither of us was happy for a long time. It's why we never gave you a sibling. Sure, me having an affair wasn't the right way to go about things, I knew it then and know it now. And I guess I've had my comeuppance. So what will happen is that the divorce will go through and I'll meet someone else."

The thing is, I was confident his prediction would come true. My father was still a somewhat handsome man, successful in his professional life, and had a lot to offer a prospective partner. Frankly, the fact his personal assistant hadn't been interested in being with him long term had surprised me though I guess it was self-preservation. Willing to cheat on his wife, would he cheat on her too?

Mum encouraged me to learn how to drive when I turned sixteen and we enjoyed going out together, another reason for our bond to grow even closer. Granted, it wasn't always easy as, being a teenager, I thought I knew everything already, and Mum couldn't help occasionally being frustrated by my sometimes inability not to listen and take instructions.

Working the hours that she did, most of my learning was done on my own at school and through studying though she'd occasionally walk in the front door and into the kitchen to find me at the dining room table, books spread everywhere as I was doing my best to soak everything in. When I was really stuck, I'd poke her brain, to see if she could help me. More often than not, she'd at least guide me in the right direction.

Obtaining my licence just after I turned seventeen led to Mum surprising me with my own car. It was second-hand, but it would be reliable, cheap to run and the only driving I'd really do would be to and from school, and also to and from the part-time job I'd picked up when turning sixteen.

"You're such a responsible young man now," Mum stated over dinner one evening. I felt myself blush as she added, "I love how much you've contributed to the house since your father left."

"Are you interested in dating again now?" I wondered, "I mean, the divorce was a while ago now..."

Mum smiled at me. "No, I'm not interested, Mark. The only man in my life at the moment is my son. Once you're eighteen, I might give it some thought, but to be honest, I don't think I'm missing much anyway. When I want love and affection, I know you're always available for hugs and kisses. I'm glad you're still not embarrassed showing how much you love your mother."

"I made you a promise, Mum."

"I remember, baby," she whispered, "That meant so much to me that night."

During that year, Dad met another woman. He'd had a couple of temporary relationships over the years, but when he met Candice, he seemed to genuinely fall in love with her and it was only a couple of months after they met that I was introduced to her. She was at least ten years younger than my father, and he was over five years older than my mother. I didn't miss the fact she was definitely closer to me in age than either of my parents.

She was absolutely gorgeous and, to my impressionable young mind, far too good for my father. After meeting her a couple of times, Mum couldn't resist asking a few questions. When I described her physically and added that she was a genuinely nice person, Mum couldn't help but grumble.

"I mean, I have a feeling she doesn't know the whole story about the divorce," I suggested, "If she were to learn that Dad was cheating on you for years..."

Mum smirked but shook her head. "No, baby," she finally insisted, "We won't get involved like that."

"Even though she would deserve to know the truth. Considering Dad lied to you for years..."

"You too, baby. He lied to you too. He lied to us. He blew off more than a few things that he should have been at so he could be with his mistress. I know you haven't forgotten nor totally forgiven..."

"Hard to completely trust the man after what he did, but he's my father, and I won't fault him for the fact he's still trying, that he still wants a relationship with me."

"You're our only child and you're his son. In a way, you're his legacy. I know you're going to do good things in your life, and your father will definitely want to crow about that in the future."

"So Candice..."

"If she's as sweet as you say, just be her friend, and maybe even be there for her when your father inevitably breaks her heart too."

By the time I was seventeen, there was no real custody arrangement, agreeing with my father that I'd drive over to see him at least once a week. Candice wasn't living with him that early in the relationship, so it was generally just time for us to catch up. Weekends were not really possible once I started part-time work and I was still playing sports on a Saturday morning.

I turned eighteen during my final year in high school and was the oldest of my small friend group of four of us by at least six months. None of them would be eighteen until after the holiday period and into their first year at university, if they chose to attend. That meant I had no one to really celebrate my eighteenth birthday with.

Except my mother, who insisted that she would treat me to a night out. I guess my hesitation was expected as Mum woke me up early on my birthday with a kiss on the cheek, sitting on the edge of my bed. By this time, I towered over her in a way and my body had slowly developed. Mum fed me well and I kept fit thanks to sport and working manual labour for my part-time job.

"When you finish school on Friday, come home and I'll try and get out of work as early as possible. I've booked reservations at one of our favourite places to eat then I'm taking you to a pub so you can order your first drinks legally then I'm thinking you can take your mother to a club. Would you like that, baby?"

"You're serious? You want to go to a club?"

"I think we'll have a great time together, baby."

I couldn't help smiling as I knew it wasn't the sort of place that she would want to visit usually. Even on the rare nights out she spent with her friends, it was usually at someone's house where they could simply drink wine and gossip. From what I knew, all of her friends were also divorced at least once.

"Okay, Mum. I'd love to go out with you."

That earned one hell of a cuddle. "Thank you, baby. You know how to make your mother a very happy woman."

"Well, if I'm your man, then you're my girl, right?"

She leaned back and dazzled me with a gorgeous smile. "I guess I have been your girl for the past few years. I can't remember being happier."

"Good thing I don't plan on moving out while I'm at university too."

"You don't have to move out even after graduating from there, baby. This is our home." Kissing my cheek, she quickly added, "Now time to get up, showered, dressed and ready for school. And I now have something to look forward to on Friday."

Mum practically floated around the house the next couple of days and nights, humming to herself with a near-constant smile on her face. It was positively infectious as she had long loved snuggling up to me when we watched television together in the evening. Each night ended with a kiss on the cheek and a long cuddle, ensuring that affection never wavered.

My father got a handshake when we met up and parted later. He'd never been the most openly affectionate or emotional of people anyway.

Arriving home from school on Friday afternoon, I laughed to myself as Mum had departed for work after I left and had already organised what I should wear. There was a note for me on top.

I want my date to look as handsome as possible for me tonight.

Love Madeline xxx

Signing her name instead of 'Mum' or 'Mother' was a surprise but hearing that she considered it a date wasn't any real surprise. She hadn't been on one since her husband walked out on her, and I hadn't had any long-term girlfriends throughout high school. Not to say I hadn't dated, but I didn't see the point of being with one girl for most of my time at high school. I didn't buy into high school sweethearts and only being with one person for life. How could you possibly know at sixteen that this was the same person you'd want to be with when you turned forty?

I heard Mum announce her arrival home as I was in the shower. Hearing her knock on the bathroom door, she told me that she'd shower in her ensuite and get ready in her bedroom, meeting me in the living room when she was ready.

After dousing my body in deodorant, I got dressed in the clothes she picked out, including a pair of polished shoes. Mum had bought me a great watch for my birthday, and I also dabbed a little cologne in certain parts. Grabbing my wallet, keys and phone, I waited in the living room for my mother to appear.

She appeared half an hour later and took my breath away in an instant. The red dress was moulded to her womanly curves, her shoulders bare, and her breasts must have been held up by the tightness of her dress or the sort of bra that was also without shoulder straps. The hem of her dress ended just above her knees, left thinking she was wearing thigh-high stockings and the heels helped her height by around three inches as well.

"Holy shit!" I finally exclaimed.

"Language, young man," Mum stated with a chuckle as I met her green eyes. She never took off her glasses except for sleeping and I assumed showering, but her lips were almost the same colour as her cheek, feeling the scent of her perfume and shampoo when she kissed my cheek, "But I'm glad you approve."

"Mum... Jesus... You're gorgeous..."

"Thank you, baby. Had to look hot for my date tonight. How do I look for a woman nearing forty?"

"Mum, every single man wherever we go tonight is going to be jealous because you're on my arm."

She immediately started to blink rapidly, worried that I'd said the wrong thing. Then she moulded her body against mine, feeling her D-cup breasts (I did laundry and was curious about her size) press into me. "I love you so much, baby. Thank you for being with me all the time," she whispered, hearing her breath shudder.

"Thanks for taking me out tonight."

"My pleasure. Now, are you ready to escort your date outside as the taxi should arrive soon? I'm not driving as I want to enjoy a drink or two in the company of my young date for the evening."

The restaurant Mum selected was somewhere we'd only been a couple of times. We both enjoyed a steak with all the trimmings, but it was also the sort of place not exactly designed for families with young children, so the ambience was just perfect for us to enjoy dinner and light conversation without too much noise in the background.