Dr. Blacklung, I Presume?, Part 26

Dr. Blacklung, I Presume
By:  slimv

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Chapter 26: The Morning After
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Tad woke up alone in his mother's bed.  The smell of bacon and coffee
permeated the room as it fraternized with scent of stale smoke that lingered
and made him think of her.  He got out of bed and threw on the underwear and
shirt he'd worn the night before and made his way downstairs. 

He stood at the kitchen entrance looking at her.  She had her back to him,
facing the stove. A trail of smoke curled from the front of her face as she
turned the bacon.  She always smoked while she cooked.  He was forever
finding little pieces of ash in his food.

She removed the bacon from the pan, placing it on a napkin-covered plate and
turned off the stove.  She turned and set down the plate of bacon on the
table besi de the eggs.  The expression on her face told him that all was not
well.

She turned her eyes but he saw.  They were puffy and tear streaked as if she
had been crying.  Her hair was matted from the sweat of last night and a
Marlboro dangled from her lips.  And that was the problem.  His mother didn't
smoke Marlboros, but he did and she must have found them in his room.

"I made you breakfast," she said.

Tad sat down in front of the plates of scrambled eggs and bacon.  "Thank
you", he said as she poured coffee in two mugs, one for him and one for her.

She pulled a pack of Marlboros from the pocket of her robe and sat down
beside him.

"I found these in your room this morning while I was putting away some
clothes.  They were hidden in your sock drawer.  Do you want to tell me about
them?"

Tad hung his head as he poked at the eggs with his fork.  "What do you want
to know", he asked?

"Well for starters, you could tell me how long have you've been smoking."

"Not long, but l ong enough to know I like it."

"How could you Tad?  What in the world would posses you to do something so
stupid?  Can't you see smoking is killing me?  I'm your mother.  I love you.
I know you're confused.  But what's right for me isn't right for you.  Don't
you understand that?  Did you think I'd be happy when I found out?"

"What do you mean by asking me how I could do this?  The question should be
more like how could I not do this.  You know how I feel.  I told you last
night."

"No Honey you didn't.  Last night we talked about my lungs- not yours.  This
has always been about my lungs.  I'm glad you understand how I feel.  You'll
never know how much that means to me.  But you're my son.  I gave birth to
you.  You're my child.  My smoking is not the same thing as your smoking."

"It is the same thing Mom.  I feel the same way you do.  I'm so jealous when
I see you smoking and I realize all the damage and destruction you're doing
to your lungs.  Don't get me wrong.  I'm jealous but I'm thrilled.  I was so
happy for you last night when you hacked up that piece of lung.  Late at
night, when I'm in my room, I'll lie there sometimes and listen to the sound
of you coughing and clearing your throat and it always makes me feel so good.
Remember last night when we were going upstairs and you had to stop to catch
your breath?  I thought I was going to cum in my pants right then and there.
Can't you see?  I'm happy for you Mom.  I really am.  But I'm jealous because
I want what you have."

Joan put out the Marlboro and lit another.  It wasn't that she liked them
better than the Pall Malls.  She was driven by the idea that the Marlboros
belonged to Tad and if she smoked them all then there would be none left for
him and he'd be safe.

"I don't think you know what you're talking about," said Joan as she inhaled
the filtered smoke.  "You have no idea how I feel right now.  You can imagine
what my lungs look like but you have no idea what it feels like to live the
way I do.  You love the way my coughing sounds.  So did your father.  He was
a lot like you.  I remember having the same conversation with him.  All he
could talk about was emphysema and COPD.  My God, for a while I really
believed him.  But as soon as he felt the tickle in his throat he got scared
and quit.  I don't want to through that again."

"I'm not like Dad.  I wouldn't quit.  I'd smoke until the end.  I'm not
afraid to die Mom."

"And that's what scares me," said Joan.  "The thought of you not being
afraid.  How could I live with my self-knowing that I contributed to your
death.  I'm your mother Tad.  I'm the woman who gave you life.  I'm supposed
to nourish you, not kill you."

He heard every word she said, but the site of her, sitting in her robe,
smoking "his" cigarettes was almost unbearable.  Thoughts of the previous
night raced through his head competing with her words.  He wanted to kiss her
lips and hold her.

"What's this really about Mom?  Is t his about me smoking or is this about
last night?"

"I'm not sure," she said.  She put the Marlboro to her lips and concentrated
on her drag.  Filters were such a pain in the ass, she thought as she filled
her mouth with smoke.

"Last night never should have happened Tad.  I know we both wanted it.  We
were caught in the moment."  She laughed, and found her self-fighting back a
cough in the process.  "We even let Dr. Avery try to tell us that what we
were doing was OK.  We justified our incest."

"It was justified Mom!  It's a stupid law any way.  We're not hurting anyone.
I love you so much.  What's wrong with that?"

"I don't know," said Joan.  "I've asked my self the same question a million
times and come up with the same answer.  Feeling good doesn't make something
right.  The reason we feel bad about what we did is because we know in our
hearts that what we did was wrong."

"I don't feel bad about it mom and neither should you.  We're perfect for
each other and you kno w it."

Joan attempted polite laughter but coughed instead.  The tickle in the back
of her throat was harsh and relentless.  Her mouth opened and her stomach
wretched.  "God that hurts so good," she said.

"Think about what you just said.  You said we're perfect for each other.  Are
we really Tad?  Take a good look at me and tell me what you see.  Do you see
your mother or your girlfriend, because I'll be honest with you, when I look
at you I see my son."

"What's wrong with that," asked Tad?  "So what?  I'm your son.  You're my
mom.  We knew that when we made love last night.  I know I'm young.  I know
you're the only woman I've ever made love to but you're the only woman I want
to make love to.  I wish I were better at telling you how I feel.  Last night
felt good.  I loved it, but it was more than about feeling good.  It was
about loving you and you loving me.  I knew you were my mom last night when
we were making love and that's what made it feel so good.  I felt closer to
you last night than I've ever felt before.  It's like when I hug you.  That
feels good, but it's not close enough but last night it was close enough.  I
want to be that close to you for the rest of my life."

He was describing his feelings for her but he had also described her feelings
for him.  "I felt the same way," she said.

Still holding her cigarette, she covered his hand with hers.  "What are we
going to do," she asked?  "I love you and I want you but it's not fair.  I'm
57 years old Tad.  I don't know how much time I have left but what I have I
want to share with you.  But I'm so confused.  None of this makes sense."
She pulled her hand away and finished the Marlboro with one final drag.

"What if I weren't your son?  Would it bother you then if I smoked?"

"I don't know," she said.  "It doesn't matter.  You are my son.  Nothing will
change that."

"But you want me to be happy, don't you?"

"Of course I do Tad.  I'm your mom.  I cry when you cry and I laugh when you
laugh and I hurt when you hurt.  Some day when you have a child you'll know
what I mean.  I just don't see how smoking can make you happy."

"Smoking makes you happy.  Last night, after we made love and you smoked that
cigarette, I'd never seen you so happy.  It was wonderful."

"It's so hard to explain," said Joan.  "In a way you're right.  Smoking does
make me feel good, but not like you're thinking.  It feels good because I'm
addicted and I crave it, so when I smoke it feels good, because I'm getting
what my body thinks it needs.  It's more like relief than pleasure.  You
couldn't possibly understand what I'm talking about."

"You're right.  I can't understand because I'm not addicted.  But I want to
understand.  I love you so much Mom.  I want to feel every thing you feel.
Let me start smoking and I can learn to enjoy it with you."

Joan pulled a pack of Pall Malls from her purse and lit one.  "It's not a
game Tad.  Smoking isn't a hobby you can play with when you w ant.  It is at
first.  It lies to you and tells you that you can handle it.  It tells you
that you're in charge.  And then, just when you think you've got it under
control, you realize it has you under control.  I'm a slave to cigarettes.  I
want better for you."

"You want better for me because I'm your son, but what if I wasn't your son."

"I already told you," said Joan.  "I can't think about it that way."

"Then don't think about me at all," coaxed Tad.  "Close your eyes and imagine
you're walking down the street.  You're shopping and you see this boy sitting
on a bench.  He's about my age.  He's a good-looking guy but he doesn't look
any thing like me.  He's so good looking that you see him and you want him.
He really turns you on.  Get the picture?  And then you notice he's smoking."

"He's too young to smoke," interrupted Joan.

"Maybe he is," said Tad.  "But that doesn't matter cause he's been smoking
for a couple years and he's really addicted.  He tried to stop an d every
thing, but he can't.  His parents even took him to the doctor and nothing
worked.  So there's like nothing you can do about it.  He can't help him
self.  He has to smoke."

Joan nodded her head as she fine-tuned the vision.  "OK, so he smokes and
he's hot.  What happens next?"

"You fuck his brains out and fall in love with him.  You tell him all about
your self and he says he feels the same way.  He loves to smoke and he wants
you to smoke.  Wouldn't that be cool?"

"Yeah, I guess so, said Joan.  "But I'm not in love with some strange
teenager that smokes.  I'm in love with you."

Joan opened her eyes and gave Tad a quick peck on the lips.

"Tad, I understand what you're trying to do and I appreciate it.  I already
feel a lot better than I did but things are still complicated.  Making love
to you last night didn't change the fact that you're my son."

"And it didn't change the fact that you want to keep doing it- making love to
me.  Did it," asked Tad?

"No it didn' t," said Joan.  "I wish last night could have lasted forever and
we never had to think about what we did or what it means.  OK", she said,
pausing to take a puff from her Pall Mall.  "I played your game so close your
eyes and play mine."

The last thing Tad saw before closing his eyes was the look of satisfaction
on his mother's face as she inhaled a thick ball of creamy smoke.

"A month has passed and you and I are still lovers.  You've moved out of your
room and into mine.  We make love every night and it feels so wonderful.  But
as much as we'd like to feel like we're husband and wife, we can never be
more than mother and son.  I'd still be the adult and you'd still be my
child.  As much as you think that will change when you're 18 or 21, it won't.
Even today I'm my mother's child and you will always be mine.  I'll make love
to you on Sunday night and send you to school on Monday morning.  On Tuesday
I'll go to the PTA meeting and suck your penis when I come home.  On We
dnesday I'll get a note from your teacher saying you failed a math quiz and
I'll punish you by withholding sex even though it kills me because I want you
so badly.  On Thursday I'll answer the phone and it will be a girl from your
class wanting to talk to you.  I'll sit on the couch, pretending not to eaves
drop as I listen to the awkwardness in your voice.  I know she's flirting
with you, asking you out.  I know all about her you see, because I've seen
this coming for a while.  She's very pretty and of course she smokes and that
makes me even more jealous.  As you hang up the phone, I feel guilty for
keeping you to my self, when I know you were never mine to keep."

Tad opened his eyes and smiled at her.  "It doesn't sound so bad, but I'd
change a few things.  Want to hear it?"

"You know I do," said Joan as she closed her eyes and listened as her son
described his idea of their life together.

"Five years have passed and you and I are still lovers.  I'm 21 now but that
doe sn't mean much cause you're right.  I'll always be your son and you'll
always be my mom.  For as long as I live, I will always be the child to your
adult.  I smoke and it kind of bothers you when we're watching TV.  You're
always telling me I smoke too much cause I do.  I smoke three packs a day for
crying out loud and I love it and you know I do.  We're making love upstairs
in our room and we're smoking, both of us, cause it feels great and that's
what we do.  I share your cough and you think it's funny.  Every puff of
smoke that fills my lungs reminds me of you.  We're walking down the street
and a pretty girl walks past us.  She's holding a cigarette.  You turn to see
if I've noticed her but I don't, because I've always seen only you.  We're
having dinner but I don't touch my food because I'm afraid to take my eyes
off you, afraid I'll miss you lift your cigarette to your lips, afraid I'll
miss your exhale.  I'm in love with your and your cigarettes.  I'm so proud
of you f or smoking as you do.  We go to the doctor together to have our
lungs examined because we're so concerned for our health.  The doctor takes
chest x-rays and points to the spots on your lungs.  And then he points to
mine, saying I have one too.  It's small but it's growing and you gush with
pride.  We both do.  The doctor shakes his head in confusion as we leave his
office holding hands, praising each other for doing so well and smoking so
much.  We light up as soon as our feet hit the pavement and we never look
back.

Joan opened her eyes, took a deep pull from her Pall Mall and without
inhaling, she leaned over and locked her lips on Tads.

Tad's mouth opened.  The seal between their lips was tight but she could
still blow out and he could still breath in.  The rich non-filtered smoke
passed from mother to son.

She pulled back and watched as he inhaled her gift and blew it back it to
her.

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