him before I was born. That was probably the reason she and Shane never got married — she was afraid of being left again.
Hawaii Video. I stared at the DVD. Mom and Shane had gone to Hawaii for two weeks while Grandma came and stayed with me. I remembered them bringing back a ton of photos, each more beautiful than the last. Gorgeous blue skies and water, along with unending beaches dominated each photo. When I looked at the pictures, I told them I wished they had taken me along with them. But they looked at each other and laughed, and said maybe next time.
But I didn’t recall seeing any videos from the trip. And I was sure I would have remembered. I flipped the case over in my hand. If this video was half as beautiful as the photos, I had to see it.
I carried it out to the living room and popped open the DVD player. After removing the Britney Spears concert DVD I’d been watching earlier, I replaced it with the Hawaii DVD.
I grabbed the remote and sat on the couch, prepared to be astounded by more beautiful scenery. But the first image that came up was of a hotel room. The camera was still as if it was sitting on something, and it was pointed directly at the bed. I could hear the faint sound of voices, and I listened intently.
A woman giggled and said, “I can’t do this, I’m too shy.” I realized it was my mom.
Shane’s voice said, “It’s ok. We don’t have to.”
None of this was making sense to me. What kind of Hawaii video was this?
After a moment of silence, my mom’s voice returned. “I think I want to.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Just thinking about it is making me excited.”
“Me too.”
“I can tell.” She giggled again.
I stared at the screen, my thirteen year old brain trying to figure it out. Why were they filming a bed?
My mom climbed onto the bed, and my eyes widened when I saw she was naked.
Oddly enough, it wasn’t her being naked that struck me as strange. I had seen her that way plenty of times, and she never made a big deal out of it. But what surprised me was that she was naked with Shane.
At that time, in my immature mind, your naked body was something you hid from boys. It had been ingrained in me since the time I had taken all my clothes off in the middle of preschool. Boys want to see you naked, and it was your womanly duty to not let them.
But here was my mom, not only naked in front of Shane, but seemingly enjoying herself, and not covering up. And although I kinda knew what sex was, it never occurred to me that you had to get naked to do it. When I had fantasized about Mark touching me between my legs, that seemed to be ok. But I could never let him see what he was touching. That was against the rules.
Mom sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard and pillows. She was blushing, and had one arm over her breasts and the other cupped between her legs. Much better. She was covering the important parts.
After a moment, she looked right above the camera, giggled, and said, “This isn’t a solo act. Get in here.”
“One sec,” Shane replied, and I saw the camera pan slightly, centering Mom in the frame. Then a dark shape passed in front of the lens, which moved away from the camera. I recognized it as Shane’s muscular back, which I had seen plenty of times in our pool.
My mouth dropped open again as he climbed up onto the bed, and his naked butt came into view. That was something I had never seen, nor wanted to. I clamped my eyes shut and listened.
I heard the bed shifting, then some kissing sounds. I had seen Mom and Shane kiss before, so I opened my eyes. Mom was lying on her back, slightly turned towards Shane as he lay at her side. Their bodies were pressed together as they kissed, and the sheet was covering his butt, so it was ok to keep watching.
His hand was running up and down her back, sliding up onto her butt and squeezing her there. Her arms were around him, pulling him down to her. I could see the side of her breast pushing out from where their bodies pressed together.
I became aware that I was getting that feeling again. The same one I had with Mark. I felt tingly all over and there was a tightening in my belly, as if I was going to be sick, but it didn’t hurt at all. And the wetness was there again.
They stopped kissing and smiled at each other.
“I love you so much,” Mom said.
“And I love you, my sweet.”
This was their typical mushy talk, which I usually got grossed out from, but now I watched them with fascination.
“Are you relaxed now?” Shane asked.
“Mm,” Mom replied, “I feel good. Let’s make a movie starring us.”
“You’ll always be my star.”
They kissed again, and Shane’s hand trailed down over her hip, crossing over to her front. She turned her hips to give him room between them, and his hand slid between her legs, cupping her there. She sighed and spread her thighs as his hand moved slowly between them.
I stared at the screen, my eyes as wide as saucers. What were they doing? Is that what Mark wanted to do to me?
They continued to kiss, and I noticed that Shane had slipped one finger between the lips of her poony, and was pressing it deep. And from her reaction, she was enjoying it very much.
They did this for a while, as they continued to kiss, and soon Mom began moving her hips up against his hand. I stared unblinking, now wishing even more that I had let Mark touch me there.
Mom’s hand moved up to his shoulder and pressed him there, as if urging him to move off of her. He resisted.
She broke the kiss and smiled. “Baby, if you don’t stop, I’m going to come.”
“Then come,” he whispered.
“Not yet. It’s your turn.”
“If you insist,” he said with a smile and rolled onto his back.
My breath caught in my throat and the world seemed to close in around me as I saw Shane lay back on the bed. My eyes quickly closed again, and I could swear I heard the eyelids as they snapped shut.
Oh my god. I didn’t see that. I didn’t see that. I couldn’t have seen that. It was only my imagination.
One time, when I was in sixth grade, I was sitting by myself at lunch. A group of boys at the next table were looking at something and laughing in hushed tones. I was curious about what they had, and tried to secretly crane my neck to see what it was.
Joey Fatone, an eight-grader and leader of the gang, saw me trying to look, and gave me a leering smile. He walked over to my table, carrying a book.
Sitting beside me, he said, “Do you want to see what we’re laughing about?”
I shrugged, feigning indifference.
“It’s really funny,” he said.
“Ok, sure.”
He put the book in front of me. I could see the rest of his gang watching in anticipation. The book was Mark Twain’s Adventures of Tom Sawyer.
“I already read that,” I said.
He put his finger on the book. “This is a special version. It has something that isn’t in the one you read.”
“What?”
“It’s on page seventy-five. Take a look.”
I reached out and began fanning through the pages. Something was stuck between them, causing my fingers to stop at the gap. It was page seventy-five. I opened the book flat, and there was a photograph lying face down.
I looked at him curiously. “This?” I asked pointing to the picture.
“Yes, turn it over.”
My fingers flipped it over, and my eyes widened in shock. It was a black and white picture of a man sitting in a chair. He was naked and very hairy, and was sitting there with a grin stuck on his face. But my eyes ignored all of
