Please note: this story has a religious reference to nuns. I'm a pantser, and that's how it came out, and I decided to keep that element in the story - I have no intentions to be offensive to anyone or any particular group.
I enjoy writing these stories and appreciate all the feedback people are giving me (the good and the bad).
This one turned out bigger than I expected, but it was fun to write. I wish you a good read.
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The summer skies followed Carl on his way back home. He rested his head on the window and let the train lull him into a shallow sleep, where the images of his mother and sister filled him with joy. It was too long now since the last time they were together, and coming back home was a promise he held dear.
"I promise you, Cindy, I'm too tough to die out there."
Cindy and her mesmerizing eyes. She was nineteen the last time he saw her, his twin sister, yet he never forgot how she sent him letters like in old times, with polaroids of her and mother, in a summer dress. In the darkness of the barracks, her breasts kept him company in the absence of someone in flesh and bone.
"Pinky promise? I'll kill you myself if something happens to you!"
He laughed at her remark, and then his chest crushed into hers, an embrace so strong that made him cry from happiness for having her. Then, like cutting the umbilical cord, he had to let go.
"Carl, can I have one last kiss?"
Mother. Her voice soothed him so many times when there was nothing else but dust and mud, and when he was the most desperate, it was her pictures Carl held against his beating heart.
A man could only stand so much. It helped to be with a group, the togetherness made him forget where he came from, and Carl could only look forward, but in the desolation of the desert night, if he gave way into his thoughts, he'd be lost.
But Cindy and mother were there for Carl every step of the way, no matter what he tried to hide from his past.
Carl let his bags hit the floor and opened his arms wide, and Cindy came rushing in. They were waiting by the train station, and as he embraced his sister, he saw his mother drying her tears in a tissue. How he missed their scent of freshly washed clothes with hints of citrus, and her dress was so soft against his dusty uniform.
"You made it in one piece!" she whispered, grabbing onto him with all her strength.
Damn. What a fine woman she became. He rested his head on her shoulder, caressing her back as he thought so many times, but now it was real. They took a look at each other, holding on to their arms, and he almost cried with the happiness of finally being home.
"I promised, didn't I?"
"Carl!"
Mother. A summer dress that went down to her knees, the way she loved them when he was younger, filled with colorful accents. Carl recalled the first time he saw her bending over the fence, speaking to her neighbor, and her panties kept flashing. A memory so embedded in his brain that it made him hard alone in the night.
She placed her hands around his neck, the height difference being obvious, and tip-toeing, she kissed him on the cheek, and he pulled her to him, just like he did with his sister.
The scent of lavender from the softener was ingrained in his brain, and he was taken back years ago when he discovered her panties lying in her bed while she showered. He took them, and before he could understand what he was doing, he was lost in her scent.
"I missed you so much, my love," she said, squeezing the embrace. "Why did you have to go?"
"I'm back now, mother." She knew why, but that wasn't important at all.
It was a short distance to his house, and things seemed unchanged. But it was only when he looked more carefully that he noticed the subtle differences: there was no longer a tree in the corner, and Sparky didn't come around barking in excitement.
He couldn't stop staring at the backs of his sister and mother and how lucky he was to be here, and to return to their lives, to become the man of the house one more time.
She parked the car and offered to help him with his bags, but he politely declined.
"No need for that, mom, look how big he is. No longer skinny Carl!"
He let his dimples show on the sides of his face, picking up his bags and making it seem effortless. The summer breeze played with their dresses and left little to his imagination. Cindy seemed to have grown a couple of sizes in her breasts alone.
"No more skinny Carl, that's for sure. I eat for a battalion now."
Mother grabbed his hand and kissed him back on the cheek. "You will have plenty of food, trust me. I missed cooking for you. But there's something I didn't tell you yet. Please, promise me you won't get mad."
How could Carl be mad at her? He loved her to death; the years of dedication on her part were more than enough to forgive anything she might have done. Her hand was cold against his, and he squeezed it softly, letting her know how much love he had for her.
"When your father left, things were tight, you know?" she started by saying, playing with a lock of hair, not looking straight at her son.
Carl knew. Cindy had told him in a letter. Father left, things went to shit, and they were about to lose the house when they thought of renting the room where Carl used to be. He was fine with that but never had a chance to bring it up with his mother, being too busy to masturbate to her picture in a bikini suit near a big lake.
"Mother, it's okay. Cindy told me."
"She did?"
He nodded. Cindy came to join them, and Carl dropped his bags again and embraced the two women at once, "it's all good, mother. I have what I wanted, to be here with you. I'll sleep on the couch."
"Don't be silly, we still have my old bed; I put it in my room."
"I'm so sorry," mother said, letting tears run down her face, but Carl held her closer, whispering that it was all good for him.
