Sparks by Yolanda Olson
After I’ve cleanedmyself up, I turn the light off in the bathroom and linger in the doorway for a moment. I’m not entirely sure if this is something he’s willing to talk about, but I know it has to be done. I’m not too worried about what his reaction will be honestly, I’m more embarrassed than anything else.
I take a deep breath and decide to just talk to him. I don’t know what to say, but I’m sure the words will come when I need them too.
Walking down the hallway, I stop when I reach his door and gently knock.
“Honey?” I call out. “Can I come in?”
I hear some rustling inside, he tells me to give him a minute, before he finally opens the door and peers down at me curiously.
“What’s up?”
“Can I talk to you for a sec?” I ask, wringing my hands. Luke sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s eyeing me critically because he knows what I want to talk about, but finally he grunts, nods, and steps aside.
I walk into the dimly lit room and sit on the corner of his bed while he lingers by the door. He’s looking for an easy way out in case this becomes too uncomfortable of a conversation for him to have, and I don’t blame him. I think I would have died if I had caught my mother fingering herself.
“Are you okay?” I ask him softly.
“Peachy. Is that it?” he responds.
“You know it’s not,” I reply with a little force behind my tone. “I want to make sure that you’re okay with what you saw. I mean, not okay with it, but that you’re okay. Up here,” I say, tapping the side of my head.
“Mom, it’s not like I haven’t watched porn before. I jerk off every now and then too, I just don’t dress up and make a show out of it,” he replies with a heavy sigh.
Interestingly enough, I think this talk is making me much more uncomfortable than it is him.
“Well, okay,” I say getting to my feet. “I just wanted to see how you were doing and I’m sorry you had to see that.”
He shrugs and tilts his head to the side. “It didn’t bother me. Is that weird?”
I raise an eyebrow as I stop in front of him. “A little bit, yeah.”
“Guess I’m just different then.”
“I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, sweetheart,” I say leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, but he pulls his face away from me and turns his gaze toward the carpet.
“Have a good one, Taylee.”
* * *
I sleptlike shit last night. I think what bothered me the most was that Luke called me by my name when I left his room instead of by my title and that’s something I’ll have to correct when he joins me this morning in the kitchen.
He usually likes to sleep in late and because it’s a weekend and not a weekday, I’ll allow it. Come tomorrow morning though, we’ll get back to our school work and he’ll remember that I’m the adult in this house—no matter how he thinks he can speak to me.
I turn on the coffee machine and drop a single-serve cup into the appropriate compartment and wait for the magic to happen. I won’t be very nice to him until I’ve had some caffeine in my system and I don’t like to be unkind to Luke when it’s something that’s beyond his control.
The wait for the coffee is my doing—the calling me by my name is his fuck up, soon to be addressed.
Seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into hours before he finally walks into the kitchen. His hair is a mess, his eyes are still showing signs of sleep, but he smiles when he sees me, and I nod in return.
“Good morning,” he says, as he walks over to me and kisses my cheek.
“Morning,” I reply curtly. I turn my back to him so I can reach into the cupboard for his favorite mug. It’s simple—dark green—his favorite color and has a small cobblestone, well design in the middle of either side.
“Thanks,” he says with a wide yawn once I’ve set his mug in front of him. I take the seat across from him and clasp my hands together on the island top and wait for him to take a few sips.
“Luke?”
“Yeah?” he asks, sucking his teeth.
“You can’t call me Taylee. My name—to you, is Mom. Do you understand me?” I ask him quietly.
His eyes linger on the caramel colored brew in the mug and he chuckles.
“Sure thing.”
“I’m serious. You’re the son and I’m the mother and no matter what you saw, you have to remember that,” I insist firmly.
“Got it,” he says, blowing out his breath and looking at me with amusement dancing in his still tired eyes. “Anything else? Mom?”
I sit back in my chair and stare at him. He seems to hear what I’m saying, but I don’t think he’s taking it too seriously.
“You’re not too old to spank. I don’t care how much bigger you are than me, I’ll bend you over my knee if I have to get some respect out of you,” I warn him.
A small smile curves the edges of his lips, but when my eyes turn stern, it fades away as quickly as it began to appear.
I get to my feet and am ready to go clean up the counter and turn the coffee pot off when Luke speaks up.
“I just have one question for you,” he says conversationally.
“What?” I ask much louder than I mean to. I clear my throat and give him a sheepish glance to which the smile begins to appear again.
“Are you gonna dress up before you spank me?”
