Dr. Blacklung, I Presume?, Part 15

Dr. Blacklung, I Presume
By:  slimv

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Chapter 15: Joan's Miscarriage
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Tad Dupree opened the door for his mom and waited for her to secure her
seatbelt before closing it.  His hard-on raged as he walked around the back
of the car and got in behind the wheel.  They'd said little since leaving the
doctor's office but the gears in their heads were spinning.  He was afraid
he'd ruin their potential union by speaking of it.  She wished he would.
This was wrong and she knew it.

He put his foot on the brake and started the car as his mother fished through
her purse, a worried look plastered across her face.  She found her
cigarettes and was preparing to light one when Tad reached across the
console, lighter in hand.  She was surprised by the gesture but accommodated
it by dipping the tip of her cigarette to the flame.

She knew he was following doctor's orders- treat her like a lady and build
her self-confidence.  It was both flattering and disturbing.  She pulled on
the cigarette, inhaled the smoke and allowed it to settle in her lungs before
exhaling.  He'd never lit her cigarette before.  She would have never allowed
it before today.  It was the combination of his youth and the fact that he
was her son.  If her addictio n hadn't held such power over her she would
have refrained from smoking in the car beside him, but that was a pipe dream.

Joan had dedicated the last 45 of her of 57 years to developing and honing
her addiction.  Some called it a death wish, and it was, but it was more than
that.  How could a boy as young and naive as her son possibly understand the
mechanics of her warped brain?  She didn't understand it her self.  But there
had been one man who did but he was no longer a part of her life.  His name
was Peter and he was her ex-husband.

Peter Dupree had been the only man to bed Joan. The fact that Peter, her one
and only lover, was 20 years her senior made the idea of making love to Tad
almost laughable if it wasn't so disgusting.  A 16-year-old penis had no
business inside a 57-year-old vagina.  She had fought them all when they
suggested Tad become her surrogate lover.  She'd put up a fight and made it
look good, but she hadn't fought hard enough.  If she went through wi th this
it would be because she wanted too and not because she had been talked into
it.  

But she was going through with it, wasn't she?  Perhaps she'd find the
courage and conviction to resist temptation once the moment of truth arrived.
Good medicine was supposed to taste bad.  If Tad were medicine, the thought
of taking him was too good, so that meant it had to be bad.  This was
nonsense.  She didn't need analogies to convince her that making love to her
teenage son was a bad idea.  For that matter, how could she call it making
love?  He was supposed to have sex with her.  If any thing happened between
them it would need to be purely physical- devoid of emotion.  She couldn't
risk falling in love with her son.  The consequences of a romantic
relationship would be devastating for both of them.

Making love to his mother could scar him for life.  Why had Dr. Avery even
suggested it?  She had heard his Oedipus theory about boys wanting to make
love to their mothers but she hadn't bought into it.  If a boy wanted to make
love to his mother it was because he was sexually inexperienced and horny.
One night with her would cure him of his adolescent lust.

Tad was a good son.  Obviously he loved her more than she realized.  Why else
would he agree to step in and take his father's place in her bed?  She took a
puff from her cigarette and corner eyed his solid frame as it maneuvered the
Honda through the traffic.  He could have any girl he wanted.  His first time
should be with a cheerleader.  Yet he was willing to give his virginity to
her, his mother, the way she had given hers to his father.

Not only had she given her virginity to Peter Dupree, but she had also given
him her life and her lungs.  In return he gave her orgasmic satisfaction, two
beautiful children, and a purpose for smoking.  He had given her the dark
side of the cloud.  She had blackened her lungs for his pleasure and hers.
It had all been going so well.  She could still rememb er the pride on his
face when she told the pulmonary specialist that she was refusing chemo as
well as any other available treatments.  

Six months to live!  That's what the doctor promised her!  The cells in her
lungs were growing out of control.  They were forming a tumor that would
eventually choke off her oxygen and starve her brain.  She and Peter had
celebrated that night.  

Her cancer had been like a child to both of them, but instead of carrying it
in her womb as she had with Tad and Megan, she carried this child in her
lungs.  She loved the idea of her lungs being pregnant with cancer, even
though she knew the pregnancy would kill her.  She had never believed in
abortion and the idea of taking chemo treatments was no different than
abortion in her mind.  She wanted to give birth to their cancerous child.  It
was what she wanted and it was what Peter wanted.  

She remembered how he used to talk about wanting to be present at her autopsy
when the doctor removed her blackened and tumor-ridden lungs.  He had even
named the cancer growing inside her lungs.  He called it Cecelia and she was
to go home with him after the autopsy.  He said Cecilia would be a constant
reminder of the love they shared.

The only sadness Joan felt was the idea of not living to see the birth of
their child.  She knew Cecilia was beautiful.  She had seen her face in the
X-Rays.  She and Peter had spent hours marveling at the white masses on her
lungs.  This is her face, he would say as he pointed to her left lobe, and
Joan had seen the outline of her child's face against the dark background.
Cecelia was indeed beautiful.

She and Peter had led a charmed life until the day her lungs ceased to erupt
in the customary fashion of their pregnancy.  It seemed trivial at first.  So
what?  She had lost her cough.  That didn't mean any thing.  The cancerous
child inside her lungs was healthy.  She had carried it for nine months
without a problem.  What could possibly go w rong at this late stage of her
pregnancy?

If only she had known she was going into remission!  If she had known she
could have done something.  She would have done anything to save Cecilia.
Peter had blamed her Cecilia's remission.  He told her she should have smoked
more.  He chided her for not switching to Pall Malls or Camels or some other
non-filtered brand.  She tried but it was too late.  Her lungs had rejected
Cecilia.  Her husband never recovered from the loss and neither had she until
now.  

Dr. Avery helped her to see the remission wasn't her fault.  It was just one
of those things.  God didn't hate her and some times bad things happen to
good people.  He gave her hope.  He had gotten her this far and she would do
every thing she could to see this through to the end.  She wasn't doing this
for Peter any more.  She was doing this for her self, but she needed her
son's help.  And she needed to be courageous enough to accept it.  She needed
the confidence that only a sexual relationship would provide her.  She would
take what she needed from Tad and ask forgiveness of him later.

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