***authors note at the end of story, read it if, and when, you'd like***
It was an early morning, so early that the sun wasn't even showing yet. There was no movement on the street. People hadn't even started leaving for work yet. The only sound was that of a slight summer breeze.
At the end of the dark quiet street, tucked back in a cul-de-sac, sat the Owens' large brick home. The only way you would know the home was occupied, was from a light in the farthest left downstairs window illuminating onto the lawn.
Inside of that far left downstairs room, Patricia Owens chewed her thumb nail while staring at her laptop. She nervously moved the arrow cursor over a "schedule now" tab on a local obstetrician's appointment application. But, she hesitated clicking on the small tab.
"How could I let this happen?" She sighed quietly to herself. Her hand on the mousepad moved down to her stomach. She leaned back and rubbed her hand over her flat abdomen, feeling a dull ache.
Patricia groaned aloud and threw her head back. She wished she could go back in time. She wished so much that she could undo what she'd allowed to happen between her son and herself. But, even with the innumerable reasons and unfathomable guilt, Patricia couldn't deny the tingle she got while remembering having sex with her son.
Up the stairs and down the hall, Andrew stretched himself awake. While throwing his arms up over his head, he noticed a soreness in his muscles.
"What the...," he whispered into a yawn. He didn't remember exercising recently. Then, as if no time had passed, a radiant red blush covered his cheeks. It all hit him at once- he had sex with his mother.
Andrew sprang up from his bed, nearly falling off the edge. He hurriedly pulled his sweatpants right-side-in, then jumped to pull them on- also almost falling in the process. Not bothering to put a shirt on, he paced his room.
He held his head between both hands, whisper yelling, "Ohmigod, ohmigod, oh-my-god!"
As any eighteen year old tends to do, Andrew was working hard not to wake his mother in this time of distress. He was sure his mom was fast asleep just a room away, while he wondered if she'd be furious the moment she woke up.
Neither mother or son dared to be the first to show face. Patricia sat- as content as she could be- locked in her office and glad to have a coffee maker. Andrew spun slowly in his desk chair. Eventually, hours after the sun was up, there was a tap on his door.
"Honey," Patricia's small voice hit Andrew's ears. "C-can we... talk?" She stood in the hall, feeling two inches tall waiting for her son to open up.
And to her surprise, open up, he did.
They both stood in silence. Their eyes locked in search of answers. Patricia held tightly onto the end of her robe tie, finding little comfort in the softness between her fingers. Andrew picked at the stitching in the pocket of his pants, hoping he wasn't shaking like he thought he was.
"Andrew I-," Patricia started, but was cut off.
"No mom. Stop," Andrew sucked in a deep breath and puffed out his chest a bit. "I know what we... did isn't right. But, I don't think it's wrong either." Another blush ran across his face at admitting his feelings.
Patricia caught a blush on her cheeks as well. She shook her head slightly, "Honey, last night... we can't-," she spoke, but was cut off again. This time her son's lips weren't speaking, instead they were pressed firmly on her two lips.
Patricia opened her eyes wide, staring at her son like a mad-woman. Quickly, she pushed her sons firm chest. Andrew stumbled back, an eyebrow raised in confusion.
"Andrew!" She yelled to her son. "We can't! You know we can't!" She held her hands in front of her, almost as if she were blocking herself from an attack.
The young man rolled his eyes, "Why not mom?" He shrugged off his mothers seriousness. "I'm not telling anyone- and I mean anyone. So, as long as you," he nodded to Patricia, "Don't tell anyone, shouldn't we be okay?"
Patricia stared at him for a moment, then sighed. At first she couldn't tell if her boy was serious. But, his expression told her that he believed what he was saying one hundred percent. Guiding Andrew into his room, he sat on the bed and Patricia sat in the desk chair.
"Drew, I enjoyed myself as well. But," she knew she needed to choose her words carefully. "But, it was irresponsible of me to let it happen."
Drew looked at his hands for a moment. He considered his mom's words. Then he looked up, "No," he said with more force than he meant to. "Mom, I'm an adult and you're not the only one who had sex last night."
Patricia blushed again, "I know that! But, I'm your mother, I wasn't acting like your mother last night!" Now Patricia was standing, pacing in place.
"Says who? Maybe that's our dynamic now mom," Andrew stood up, turned his mom around, and held her by the shoulders. "We're both adults mom, maybe we can act like it?"
Shrugging his hands off, Patricia groaned. "You want to know how I know it isn't right?" Andrew nodded. "Because, neither of us thought about this!"
Patricia reached into her pocket and pulled out a few slim black unopened foil packets. She threw the black foil on Andrew's desk. He picked one up and read the label.
Andrew's eyes went narrow, and then wide. He hadn't even thought about wearing a condom. He threw the black wrapper back down.
He leaned on his desk, "Well to be honest, I thought you... ya know, couldn't...," he made a half moon shape with his arms in front of his stomach.
His mother gasped, then promptly smacked his arm. "Andrew! I'm not that old! I-I mean, that doesn't matter!" She threw her arms down, "Even if I couldn't get pregnant anymore," she rolled her eyes. "Condoms aren't just for that, they protect both partners from STDs."
They were quiet in thought. The joking and teasing was fun, but the mother son balance was already obviously shifted from the two having had sex. Andrew was the first to speak again.
