Cameron was a strapping young lad. Twenty years old and brimming with the confidence and delusions of grandeur expected of a young white male from an affluent background. While Amanda had relegated herself to the role of 'black sheep,' Cameron relished the role of the 'good son.' An all-American athlete in several sports with a perfect 4.0 GPA and two years closer to his BA in Business Management there was nothing that could stop him.
As he sped down the highway in his silver Audi coupe Cameron ran a finger through his light brown hair and flashed a gleaming white smile into the rearview mirror at himself. No one had ever mistaken Cam for humble--and why should they? He had everything going for him, including his 6'1" 180lb frame of lean muscle stuffed into expensive clothes.
Cam hadn't seen his parents since last Christmas nearly seven months ago and since then had only grown more confident and independent. During his time away from home he'd felt a sense of the man he was becoming really start to shine. If anything, it seemed everything came easy to Cam. The grades, the athletics, the girls--he barely had to work to get any of them. In this way he was the golden child and the Weaver family's pride and joy.
At the same time, he had developed a more and more poisonous relationship with his younger sister. As Cam had racked up honor rolls, athletic achievements and social status Amanda had grown increasingly resentful. By the time he had left for college they were barely on speaking terms. Cam did love his sister, but he was also incapable of understanding why she was such an underachiever. And he never enjoyed hearing all the rumors about her promiscuity around the locker-room. Worse yet, perhaps, was that she didn't even try to deny it.
But ever the good son, Cameron was going home to visit his father for his father's sake as much as preserving his own image. He was perfectly okay with admitting that to himself and felt justified in his desire to be perceived as he believed he was-- 'the good son.'
While he had always enjoyed a strong relationship with his father, Cameron was a bit of a 'momma's boy.' Although his father really identified with his 'go-getter' attitude and athletic ability, it was his mother's guiding touch that really resonated with Cam as a kid. He knew right from the start that he desperately wanted his mother to think highly of him and her strict rules and ideals appealed to him greatly.
His father was far more lenient and especially as he aged--less idealistic. It seemed like he demanded less from Cameron and that translated into stagnation to him. His mother challenged him and gave him an idea of the kind of man he should be and the kinds of things he should aspire to achieve. His father seemed equally pleased no matter what he did, and he did not get the same satisfaction out their interactions as a result.
Eventually, this translated into Amanda seeming to identify with Jim and Cameron identifying with Sharon. He got great pleasure in living up to his mother's ideals and was greatly looking forward to continuing to cultivate the type of self-image that would appeal to her. A kind of cognitive dissonance prevented Cameron from seeing the hypocrisy of selfishly manipulating his self-image to garner recognition--insulated from such a revelation Cameron saw himself as his mother saw him--the 'golden child.' That was his identity, whether strictly true or not.
As he pulled into the expansive driveway of his parents' home, he took one last look at himself in the mirror before feeling supremely confident in his appearance. He stepped out in tight white chinos and a light blue button up that hugged tightly to his muscled frame and revealed the top of his toned hairless chest through three unbuttoned clasps. His expensive boat shoes clapped softly on the white concrete of the walkway up to the front door and he waited intently to see the door swing open and be greeted before even arriving.
He was more than mildly annoyed that it did not happen, and instead Cam had uncharacteristically not been greeted by an open door and smiling faces but a door he had to open himself to a dark and unwelcoming home.
"Hello?" he called out, straining to conceal the annoyance in his tone.
What the hell was this? He hadn't seen his family in over half a year, and no one was even there to greet him? Cam gritted his teeth a bit--a bad habit--and continued looking around the house.
Now that he had stepped further into the building, he noticed some smells he was unaccustomed to clinging to the air. It smelled like cigarettes and weed--which utterly perplexed him. If his mother was anything it was strict and she would simply never allow smoking in the house, not to mention neither of his parents were partyers or smokers anyways. That left only one option--Amanda.
Cam had caught her sneaking out to smoke on several occasions and he was aware of her reputation at school as a stoner. But smoking in the house? This was a new low, even for her. More importantly, however, how had their mother not noticed? These questions and more swam through Cam's head as he continued searching the house, now considering the option of a break-in or burglary as more and more seemed inexplicable to him.
Finally, a clicking of heels coming down the hall from the direction of the guest bathroom drew his attention.
"Cam, honey, I'm sorry I didn't hear you drive up," Sharon greeted warmly.
Cam didn't hesitate to open his arms for a hug and the two embraced for several moments. Once again Cam was hit with an aroma of ash but this time it was coming from his mother--her clothes, hair, everything smelled heavily of cigarettes despite the scent of expensive parfum that attempted to conceal it.
After separating he intended to question her about it but was first struck by her appearance. Cam had always known his mother to be understated--classy but reserved. This applied to her manner of dress and light, tasteful application of make-up. It had practically served as a mock-up for the kind of woman that Cam had deigned to marry one day. But the version of his mother that now stood before him was anything but understated.
Her long straightened auburn hair cascaded silkily across her bare shoulders and nearly reached the amply exposed cleavage squeezed into the silvery-blue tube top she wore. Her black skirt was tight and reached barely mid-thigh, revealing long legs and lavish black heels. Her face, however, was the greatest change.
Cameron couldn't remember a time when he had seen his mother in heavy make-up, and that included the pictures of her on her wedding day. She had always had a soft, inviting look about her and her sky-blue eyes sparkled kindly no matter the occasion. The version of his mother that he was seeing now was nearly unrecognizable.
Her skin appeared flawless and matte as a product of the expensive full-coverage foundation and concealer she was wearing. Her lips were a bright red that shimmered in the reflection of the overhead lights and radiated a 'look at me' intent. Her once inviting blue eyes were shrouded in shimmery silver and smokey black that extended from her large, oversized fake lashes up to her sharply penciled eyebrows.
Sharon noticed her son's shock and knew that she was going to have to explain to some extent--which she had planned on anyways. She decided that this encounter would be akin to ripping off a band-aid, quick and painful perhaps but a fast-track to the healing process. Truth be told, Sharon didn't really want to put forth the effort to change anything.
There was a time when the preservation of her self-image was of paramount importance. Most of her life in fact, she was living up to her parents' idea of grace and class in everything she did whether she was conscious of it or not. It had now reached a point, however, where the shackles of their oppressive expectations had been cast aside and she no longer felt their ghostly judgements from the grave. She was finally free, and she wasn't going to pretend otherwise for anyone--even her son.
"Mom, you look...," Cam struggled to find the appropriate words but faltered.
His mother would say she looked like a 'tart,' or a 'hussy,' or perhaps even a 'harlot.' But he could not possibly say any of those things to his mother now and right now his compass was spinning so aimlessly that he wasn't even sure he was capable of being coherent.
