21-08-2019, 06:23 PM
I finished the first sandwich and Mom insisted I tell her what I’d been doing, interrupting me as soon as I started to apologize for not being able to come to my graduation because they just couldn’t afford to fly across the country. “I really feel guilty about that,” she said, stretching her hands out to hold mine, the one not holding a sandwich. It didn’t take long for me to tell her about the sailing charters, something I’d already told her and Dad about before, and how the economic downturn had resulted in the failure of the company. I had the impression Mom just wanted to hear my voice. “So, here I am, broke and without a job,” I laughed, picking up the other half of the second sandwich. “Oh, dear,” Mom said. Before I took a bite, I asked Mom what had happened to make her quit her job. I was curious but also wanted to change the subject from my situation. I had already dwelled on it enough by myself.
Mom launched into a story about not feeling well for a long time, always feeling tired, and a list of other symptoms. I listened half-heartedly until she said the dreadful word. “Cancer?” I blurted, my mouth full of half-chewed bread and tomatoes. Mom nodded. “Cancer?” I repeated. “Yes, breast cancer.” My eyes dropped to Mom’s breasts, a rather insensitive thing to do right after a woman has just told you she has breast cancer. “I still have them,” Mom laughed, seeing the direction of my gaze. I blushed profusely and looked down at the sandwich in my hand. Mom laughed out loud. “Don’t feel bad. Every single man that hears about it does that. All my friends’ husbands, even the ones who heard about it through their wives, as soon as they see me, they look at my chest. We all get quite a kick out of it. Jenny said, ‘Now we know what the girls at Hooters feel like’.” I didn’t recognize Jenny as one of Mom’s regular friends. “Who’s Jenny?” “Oh, just a girl I met at the clinic. She’s about your age, very pretty but a little different.” “She had cancer?” I asked.
Mom ignored the question. “Come on,” she said, reaching out to grab my sandwich-free hand. “Look.” As soon as I looked up, Mom retrieved her hand and used both to heft her breasts. “See…healthy as a horse.” “What about the cancer?” I asked, my eyes staying on Mom’s breasts, nicely show-cased by the curved brackets of her hands. “False alarm,” Mom said as if it was a little thing but I noted a trace of relief that belied her light-hearted dismissal. Mom had obviously been scared silly, the little twitch in her cheek betraying her true feelings. She must have been afraid for her life. “So you’re ok?” I persisted. “Absolutely,” Mom banged her hand flat on the table for emphasis. “But your Dad…now, I’m not sure he’s alright.” “Why?” “Well, all these changes have upset him, especially me wanting to be a sculptor.” “Sculptress,” I corrected her. I have no idea why I said that. “Sculptress. I like the sound of that.
Anyway, changes happened and your Dad is having a hard time dealing with it. He thinks things should have gone back to the way they were as soon as we heard the good news. He just doesn’t realize what a life-changing experience it is to hear that awful word. It changes everything. Nothing is the same and there’s no going back.” Mom reached out to grasp my hand again, this time holding it between both of hers. She looked me seriously in the eye. “You understand, don’t you.” I nodded, pausing with the last bit of sandwich inches from my mouth. “Of course,” I said. “Everything’s different.” Mom released my hand. “It’s amazing, actually. I feel so alive now. I feel like I know what’s important and what’s not but Ken just doesn’t get it. "He’ll come around, Mom.” I popped the last of the sandwich into my mouth and watched Mom slowly shake her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just don’t know.” I cast my eyes down to Mom’s medium-sized breasts and noticed something else that was different. Mom was wearing a regular t-shirt under the tie-dyed shirt but that was all.
For the first time in my life, I really saw my new mother, the braless one. ————————————— “You won’t find anything around here to make a career out of,” Dad said the same thing for the third time using different words. “I know, Dad. I get it. I’m just going to get my shit together for a couple of months and then get my name out there.” “Get your shit together? That’s just great. Your mother’s finding herself and you’re 'getting your shit together’. Perfect. Just perfect.” “Dad, I need a stable address and somewhere I can get steady access to the internet. And, frankly, a bit of a rest. I’ll find something, probably in LA. Until then, I’m going to help Mom.” “Doing what? Stirring mud so she can make statues out of it?” “No, I’m going to build a website so she can display her stuff and sell it. You should see it. Some of it’s pretty good and will probably sell in the city.” “I have seen it and she has tried to sell it at every fair and market around here for almost a year.
Mom launched into a story about not feeling well for a long time, always feeling tired, and a list of other symptoms. I listened half-heartedly until she said the dreadful word. “Cancer?” I blurted, my mouth full of half-chewed bread and tomatoes. Mom nodded. “Cancer?” I repeated. “Yes, breast cancer.” My eyes dropped to Mom’s breasts, a rather insensitive thing to do right after a woman has just told you she has breast cancer. “I still have them,” Mom laughed, seeing the direction of my gaze. I blushed profusely and looked down at the sandwich in my hand. Mom laughed out loud. “Don’t feel bad. Every single man that hears about it does that. All my friends’ husbands, even the ones who heard about it through their wives, as soon as they see me, they look at my chest. We all get quite a kick out of it. Jenny said, ‘Now we know what the girls at Hooters feel like’.” I didn’t recognize Jenny as one of Mom’s regular friends. “Who’s Jenny?” “Oh, just a girl I met at the clinic. She’s about your age, very pretty but a little different.” “She had cancer?” I asked.
Mom ignored the question. “Come on,” she said, reaching out to grab my sandwich-free hand. “Look.” As soon as I looked up, Mom retrieved her hand and used both to heft her breasts. “See…healthy as a horse.” “What about the cancer?” I asked, my eyes staying on Mom’s breasts, nicely show-cased by the curved brackets of her hands. “False alarm,” Mom said as if it was a little thing but I noted a trace of relief that belied her light-hearted dismissal. Mom had obviously been scared silly, the little twitch in her cheek betraying her true feelings. She must have been afraid for her life. “So you’re ok?” I persisted. “Absolutely,” Mom banged her hand flat on the table for emphasis. “But your Dad…now, I’m not sure he’s alright.” “Why?” “Well, all these changes have upset him, especially me wanting to be a sculptor.” “Sculptress,” I corrected her. I have no idea why I said that. “Sculptress. I like the sound of that.
Anyway, changes happened and your Dad is having a hard time dealing with it. He thinks things should have gone back to the way they were as soon as we heard the good news. He just doesn’t realize what a life-changing experience it is to hear that awful word. It changes everything. Nothing is the same and there’s no going back.” Mom reached out to grasp my hand again, this time holding it between both of hers. She looked me seriously in the eye. “You understand, don’t you.” I nodded, pausing with the last bit of sandwich inches from my mouth. “Of course,” I said. “Everything’s different.” Mom released my hand. “It’s amazing, actually. I feel so alive now. I feel like I know what’s important and what’s not but Ken just doesn’t get it. "He’ll come around, Mom.” I popped the last of the sandwich into my mouth and watched Mom slowly shake her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just don’t know.” I cast my eyes down to Mom’s medium-sized breasts and noticed something else that was different. Mom was wearing a regular t-shirt under the tie-dyed shirt but that was all.
For the first time in my life, I really saw my new mother, the braless one. ————————————— “You won’t find anything around here to make a career out of,” Dad said the same thing for the third time using different words. “I know, Dad. I get it. I’m just going to get my shit together for a couple of months and then get my name out there.” “Get your shit together? That’s just great. Your mother’s finding herself and you’re 'getting your shit together’. Perfect. Just perfect.” “Dad, I need a stable address and somewhere I can get steady access to the internet. And, frankly, a bit of a rest. I’ll find something, probably in LA. Until then, I’m going to help Mom.” “Doing what? Stirring mud so she can make statues out of it?” “No, I’m going to build a website so she can display her stuff and sell it. You should see it. Some of it’s pretty good and will probably sell in the city.” “I have seen it and she has tried to sell it at every fair and market around here for almost a year.
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