Dr. Blacklung, I Presume?, Part 22

Dr. Blacklung, I Presume
By:  slimv

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Chapter 22:  The Appetizer
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Every eye in the restaurant followed the older woman and the boy who trailed
behind her.  As the door closed behind them the people began to talk amongst
them selves.  The murmurs became roars but words such as incest, cancer and
smoking could be heard in the clutter of decibels.

Even though Tad had driven them to the restaurant, it was Joan who took the
driver's seat.  She closed her door, turned the ignition and lit a cigarette,
before shifting the car in reverse.

They had walked the distance between the restaurant and the car without
speaking.  As she pulled into traffic, she turned to Tad and asked if she had
heard him correctly back at the restaurant.

"What part are you talking about?" he asked sheepishly.

"The part ab out my lungs," said Joan.  "Tell me again what you said about my
lungs."

"Geeze Mom.  I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have said that.  I don't want you to
die.  I don't know what I was thinking about when I said that."

Tad's body lurched forward as the brakes screeched and his seatbelt caught
him.

"Seriously," she said with the cigarette bobbing between her lips.  "I need
you to tell me the truth.  I promise I won't get mad, but I need to know.
Does the idea of my lungs being a tar infested bag of soot turn you on?"

"Oh God mom.  It sounds so awful when you say it like that.  I feel like a
sack of shit.  I never should have said any thing."

"It's OK.  You didn't say any thing wrong.  I just need to know if it turns
you on or if you're just saying it so I'll go to bed with you.  Your father
used to talk to me like that and I couldn't get enough of it.  I just need to
know.  You can tell me the truth.  I'm the sick one Honey- not you."

"If you're sick then I'm sick too Mom, bec ause I think about it all the time
and I don't know what's wrong with me.  I love you so much and it doesn't
make sense.  It makes me feel so awful when I feel my self getting turned on
thinking about you having cancer.  I'm so sorry."

Joan leaned over the gearshift and pulled his face towards hers as she
planted a smoky kiss on his mouth.  It took him by surprise and he looked as
if he had just been through a car wreck as she pulled away.  He was
speechless.

"You've never kissed a girl that smokes before, have you," she asked?

"Uhuh no," said Tad, shaking his head.

"Was it what you expected?"

"Not really," said Tad.  "I thought it would taste different than that,
better."

"I taste like shit, don't I"?

Tad didn't answer her.

"Can you still smell the cancer on my breath?  Does it still turn you on?  Do
you think you could get used to kissing me?"

It was Tad's turn to lean over the console and place a kiss on her mouth.

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He followed he r to the bedroom and stood behind her as she opened door to
her closet.  She was organized to the point of being meticulous.  She had
arranged her clothes in order of color.  Not only that, she had arranged them
in ascending ordering from cool to hot, from green to red and every thing in
between, following the pattern of the spectrum.

Her nightgowns were in the front and she had many to choose from, like the
rest of her clothes, they were arranged in order.  She pushed the hangers
against the rod, giving her room to spread the gowns.

"See any thing you like," she asked?

Tad ran his fingers across them as if he was stroking the keys of a piano.
He loved the way the silk felt against his fingers.  His hand stopped on the
blue gown.  It was shorter than most in her collection.  He had never seen it
on her.  Unlike the rest in her collection, this one had a v-cut chest and he
wondered what his mom's cleavage would look like pushing out against the two
silk cups.

Joan smiled as she removed it from the hanger.  "I had a feeling you'd want
this one.  I know it's kind of early, but what you say we watch TV in bed and
we can talk for a while"?

"That sounds good Mom".

Joan nodded.  Despite her willingness and desire to go through with tonight,
she was still awkward and shy.  "Do me a favor Honey.  While I take my
make-up off and change, can you give me a little privacy?  That must sound
silly, the idea of me being shy, but I am.  Why don't you empty my ashtray
and get me a glass of wine?  You want a Coke or something?  You can get one
if you want, but you have to promise me you'll be careful.  I don't want to
sleep in a bed with sticky Coke stains.  OK?"

Tad kissed his mom on the cheek and left her to do his tasks.

"Oh, and Tad Honey," called his mom.  "I'm almost out of cigarettes.  Can you
get me two packs from the cupboard?  My lungs are feeling kind of thirsty
tonight".

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Tad sat alone in his mother's bed as he waited for her to finish in the
bathroom.  He had taken the right side of the bed since her ashtray was on
the left.  It was little things like this that puzzled him.  He'd never
shared a bed with another person before.  Not that he was here to go to
sleep, but still, the idea of sleeping with another person seemed weird to
him, but not in a bad way.  He could think of no one other than his mom that
he'd want to share a bed with.

He looked at the two packs of Pall Malls sitting on her nightstand and picked
one up.  The tall white letters against the red background were bold and made
a statement.  His heart raced as he held it.  The pack screamed danger!  It
seemed to say put me down.  I'm not yours.  You're too young to hold me.  He
defied the pack's warning and removed the cellophane seal and tore off the
tin foil edges. 

He was used to seeing his mom smoke all kinds of different brands.  He'd seen
her smoke Benson & Hedges, Virginia Slims, Marlboros of course, both kind s-
the short ones and the long ones.  There had even been a time when she had
gotten into smoking those long brown Mores.  But for as long as he'd been
watching her, his favorites were the Pall Malls.  He thought the smoke looked
thicker when it left her mouth and of course the idea of his mom forgoing
filters made him want to cream just thinking about it.  They had to be bad
for her.  And in their world, bad was good.

"Tad honey, don't play with Mommy's cigarettes.  OK?  Just put them back on
the night stand".

Heat rose to his face.  He'd been too preoccupied with his thoughts to hear
the bathroom door open.  What the hell, he thought.  It wasn't like she was
angry with him.  Besides, all he'd done was open the pack for her.  He
reached across the bed and laid them beside the unopened pack.  As he did, he
looked up to see his mother coming toward the bed.

From his position, looking up, her breasts looked massive as they pushed
against the silky blue fabric.  They didn't just look massive.  They were
huge! They just looked even bigger when he was looking up at them.

She reached back with both her hands and pulled her salt and pepper hair back
behind her neck and shoulders.  Most women of her age died their hair, but
not Joan.  She didn't feel the need to camouflage her age with dyes and
pigments.  She was 57.  So what?  She looked better than most women her age.
She was what she was and right now she was getting into bed beside her son.

"Are you sure you don't mind that side of the bed Honey?  We can switch if
you like".

Tad shook his head and smiled.  "I'm fine right here", he told her.

He shifted in the bed, lay on his side and propped his head up on his hand as
he watched his mom take a sip from her wine.  His eyes were drawn to her
fingers.  A huge orange stain peered out from between her middle and index
fingers.  He'd heard lemon juice could get rid of nicotine stains.  He
wondered about her lungs.  What would lemon juice do to th em?  Maybe after
she was gone, after the autopsy, he could try it out.  What a silly thought.
Why in the hell would he want to clean his mother's lungs?

It wasn't that he actually wanted to clean them.  It was more like he wanted
to play around with them.  What would the mass of black tissue feel like
between his fingers?  Would it be soft and bloody?  Or would it be like a
brittle petrified paper bag?  It was a crazy thought and he tried to shake
it.

She picked up the open pack of Pall Malls and lit one.  Tad watched as the
end of the Pall Mall gave way to the flame.  Smoke rose from its end.  Her
cheeks hallowed.  She parted her lips and pulled the cigarette away to
receive the smoke.

Tad watched the ball of smoke as it tried to escape her mouth only to be
sucked down her windpipe.  Now you see it.  Now you don't.  But all didn't go
as planned.  It seldom did on her first puff.

Joan's lungs rebelled.  Tad didn't know why.  His naivety assumed a smoker as
accomplished as his mother would have no trouble whatsoever with the first
puff or the last puff.  Yet her lungs stumbled and she coughed.  It was a
throaty sound, very wet and thick.  He imagined some kind of sticky film had
spread across the opening of her throat like a spider web and was acting like
a barrier, preventing the smoke from entering the cavity beneath her chest.

The first cough wasn't enough and it was followed by a second.  Her muscles,
mixed with the flab of age, rippled across from the front of her gown.  She
was coughing harder now but he wasn't concerned.  Excited- Yes!  But not
concerned.  He'd seen this struggle played out between his mom and her lungs
for years.  And in the end, the lungs always gave into Joan's will and her
smoke.

His eyes followed the dark projectile as it ejected from her mouth and landed
on the bed spread.

She turned to him and smiled weakly.  Her eyes were red and watery from the
fight.  "Sorry", she said.  "I hope that didn't spoil your mo od".

Tad sat up in bed.  He gave his mom quick peck on the cheek and then got on
his hands and knees, searching the bedspread for her deposit.  Finding it, he
scooped it up with his index finger.  He was surprised at how easily it
peeled away from the bedspread and clung to the tip of his finger.

He sat back down on the bed, shoulder to shoulder with his mom and examined
it as if he'd found a precious gem.  He marveled at the way he could move it
from finger to finger.  It was so much like that toy called Slime he'd seen
younger kids play with.

"Look at it mom.  See how brown and sticky it is?"

She stared at the specimen, sharing her son's fascination, as she took a deep
puff from the Pall Mall.  This time the smoke took and it settled deep in her
lungs without a fight.  She held it in and relished the feel of the pressure
against her lungs before releasing it.  She blew a thin stream of smoke
against the phlegm between Tad's fingers.

Tad giggled as if it was the funnie st thing he'd ever seen.  Still holding
the ball of tar coated phlegm; he looked his mother in the eyes.  "Do you
think it misses home?  You know.  It's not in your lungs any more.  Do you
think that bothers it"?

Joan shook her head and took another puff.  "I don't know Honey", she said as
smoke trailed out her nostrils in two long streams.  "What are you going to
do with it"?

Tad smiled deviously.  "I'm going to do what I've wanted to do for a very
long time".  He held the phlegm to his nose and inhaled the scent.
"Amazing", he said.  

Joan watched as Tad lifted his finger to his lips and slurped her tar baby up
and into his mouth.  A smile crossed his lips and the muscles in his neck
moved up and down as they assisted in the swallowing process.

She tingled with excitement.  Until now she wasn't completely convinced that
she and her son shared the special bond she had hoped for, but his actions
spoke louder than any words he could have mustered.  She put her arm around
and pulled him close.

He felt the heat and smelled the stench of her cancerous breath as her lips
closed on his.  The taste of her tongue was much like the flavor of her
phlegm and he basked in it.

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