Book 3 - A Son's Property - Gina and Vincent
*
Not for the first time that day, Gina found her thoughts wandering to her husband, Frank. He had been handsome, charming, and intelligent. Over a period of only a few months, she had witnessed the cancer degrade and erase him, until the end, when he could barely remember his own children. She sighed, and choked back a single sob as she continued to rinse and dry the dishes. If she allowed herself to start crying now, she'd never get anything else done tonight. She'd been a wreck for months, on and off. While she never stopped working or being a mother, she knew that without her eldest son, Vincent, she would have shattered into a million pieces long before now.
If Vincent had been here tonight, he would never have allowed her to do this. He probably would have had dinner started before she even got home. He wouldn't even have needed to been asked. She was glad that he had plans that night, in fact. As much as she appreciated her son's help, she wanted him to get out and have his own life, even if it did involve dating girls who weren't mature enough to appreciate him.
Gina thought of her eldest son and then smiled. He was a senior in high school and her two daughters, Lucia and Helena, were still in high and middle school respectively. Frank had been an excellent father, and he had given her three wonderful children, who she regarded as her life. That was one thing she could be grateful for, at least.
Before the cancer, Gina's family had been close to perfect, with none of the issues that her best friends Linda and Raquel had to deal with. She forcefully reminded herself that her family was still good, and that she was still the head of it, and that she would not allow herself to let her children down.
Still, she would have given much to have had Frank there to comfort her later that evening. She smiled. Well, tonight, she would have liked to have been used more than comforted. There was nothing like the after glow of particularly rough sex, laying in the warm post-orgasm brain fog, appreciating the bruises forming on her inner thighs and wrists. It had been too long. Before the cancer had taken his life, it had taken Franks ability and drive for sex. Gina felt selfish now, thinking of his suffering.
The front door opened unexpectedly. Vincent was home early. Maybe his date didn't go well? Just for a moment, Gina squirmed in place, squeezing her thighs together. Her son was young and very strong. He could definitely leave marks on a girl, if he wanted. She shook her head, trying to throw off the shame of her own thoughts, but from prior experience, she knew they would not disappear.
Gina had been raised a certain way, and because of that, she would always be inappropriately weak to her own son. It was just a fact that she would have to live with.
"Hey mom," Vincent said, walking behind her into the kitchen. He grabbed a can of soda from the fridge before sitting down at the table, behind her. "I would have done the dishes later, you didn't have to."
"I know," Gina said, smiling. "How was your date?"
"Okay I guess. I don't know if she's right for me?"
"What's wrong with Jessica?" Gina asked. Her son was very picky with girls. Then again, maybe he could afford to be. He was tall, handsome, with a soft-spoken confidence.
"Nothing's wrong with her. She's just...I don't know, kind of immature? I kind of want someone a little more self-aware, I guess. Plus she wouldn't stop talking about her brother. It was weird."
"The right one will come along one day, I'm sure. You're not even out of high school yet, after all."
Gina fell back into silence, continuing to wash the dishes by hand. There weren't many that night, and doing things manually like that relaxed her. She hummed and swayed her hips side to side, to the beat of a song only she could hear. She was unaware of her son's eyes, hungrily following the movement of her body beneath her plain but well-fitted office dress.
"H-how are you doing, Mom?"
Gina sighed, frustrated but also gratified by the tone of her son's voice. He was worried about her, and he shouldn't have to be.
"Today was a little rough," she said. "Sometimes it feels like your father's been gone for years. Other times it's like he died yesterday."
"It'll get better Mom. I promise."
Vincent stepped behind her and put his hands on his mother's shoulders, intending to be reassuring. It took everything within Gina to resist simply bending over and pushing herself back against her son, submitting fully.
As a woman should
, a voice deep within her reminded her, forcefully.
Gina stopped, stepped away from her son carefully, then dried her hands and went upstairs. She was able to get to her room before she collapsed on her bed in tears, her emotions a confusing mix of grief, want, and shame.
Vincent had no idea what he had done, but he felt badly anyway.
* * *
Things didn't change for several days. Vincent felt a rift open up between him and his mother. He did not like it. More specifically, he did not like how she stopped opening up to him, and how she was glancing at him now, almost slyly, when he was looking away. He worried that she was starting to hate him, although he could not say why.
It was Thursday evening when everything changed. On Thursdays, the family ate together. No one had to be told, but the kids stopped working on their homework, Vincent made sure to be free, and Gina refused to work late. They all helped make dinner; a simple pasta with a very flavorful tomato and meat sauce, a recipe that Gina had learned from her own mother.
Surprisingly there was nothing wrong that night. Everyone laughed together, more than normal, and no one wanted to leave the table early. Vincent was still concerned as he watched his mother drink first one, then another, then a third glass of wine. At times, she went out with her friends and had some cocktails, but she rarely drank at the table, especially after her husband's death. Red wine was a reminder of prior family celebrations. Tonight, at least, it seemed to cheer her up. Even if she passed out early, Vincent was unconcerned. He would put the girls to bed himself and leave it at that
As it happened, Helena told a series of dumb but hilarious jokes, and things didn't really end even when dinner did. After they cleared the table, the girls and Vincent worked on their homework together, he occasionally helping them with a difficult question or problem. Gina, unfortunately, had a sudden work emergency which demanded her attention, so Vincent made sure that the girls were tucked in on time. It wasn't that unusual, but he was surprised when he got done and came back downstairs to find his mother back at the table, smiling at him. There were two glasses of wine poured.
"Sit with me, Vincent," Gina said. Her voice slurred ever so slightly, and was noticeably deeper than normal, but it only served to make her seem more seductive. He knew that he should suggest that she go to bed, but he knew that he wouldn't.
It wasn't Vincent's fault if his mother got drunk, after all. She was an adult. And who knows what she might do in that state. She'd hinted in the past that she and her friends were wild when they were younger. Vincent sat, and sipped his wine. Despite being only eighteen, he was used to having wine at some family meals. It was just expected of him, but he never had much.
"We don't get to talk like this much anymore, Mom," Vincent said, after a moment's hesitation. "I miss it."
Gina smiled, and to Vincent it seemed to light up the room.
"I do, too. We used to talk about all kinds of things. Now, I feel like I owe you so much more, but we don't communicate as much, and that bothers me."
"You don't owe me anything, Mom."
Gina rolled her eyes, but she did so with a smile.
"Come on, Vincent. I see you. I see every little thing you do for Lucia and Helena. You never had to be told, you just became their surrogate father. I still show up for their events, but you volunteer to take them to and from school. Not to mention all the times you've cooked for them or tucked them in or just been present for them. You've been very important to your sisters these last few months. None of us is all right, not really, but without you we all would have been so much worse."
