Vulnerability

Prologue

The occasion felt like a bag of potato chips that had been left open for a few days. A stale smell, the aroma of most cheap hotel rooms. I was lying underneath a stiff comforter as my chest was softly rising up and down. Tilting my head to the side, there lay a woman who was on her stomach, her face in the direction of mine. Her eyes flickered open as two parenthesis graced her face. Beauty marks that had over time developed from either genuine joy, or false happiness.

I crawled out of bed as gently as I could, in attempt to try and not further disturb the woman. I was wearing nothing but a pair of briefs, stretching my arms upward and letting them fall back down to my sides. I began ransacking our few belongings that we had on the table the hotel had provided for the room. “Are you looking for a cigarette?” The woman asked, the squeaks of the lumpy mattress echoed off the plaster on the walls. “I think I have one in my purse.”

She walked to me at a sloth's pace, her wearing a black bra with a matching bottom. Despite the long years of womanhood and the hard months of pregnancy, her body remained tight and flattering. She unzipped her purse and pulled out a thin white stick that had a butt of cellulose. I took the cigarette from her, leaning in and pecking her cheek. She was about half an inch taller than I.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” I stuck the end of it in my mouth as she sparked up a lighter in the front.

“Soon you'll be old enough to buy your own.” She teased, placing her hands on my hips. I inhaled.

“Yeah...” I turned my head so I could breathe out a cloud. “...in about two years. That isn't that soon.” I wedged the cigarette between my pointer finger and my middle, turning it around. The woman leaned her neck forward, wrapped her lips around the butt, and inhaled. We finished our cigarette after about a minute or two, taking a seat back on the bed.

“How far should we go today, love?” She asked.

“How ever far you think we can go. I don't have my license, remember? I'm not sure if I should be the one making that judgment, Victoria.” She rolled her eyes at me.

“Okay then, Logan.” Victoria never called me by my first name except when she was annoyed.

“My apologies, ma'am.” I looked over at her. “I guess I am just a tad bit stressed is all.” She sighed, then walked on her knees until she was standing on the bed behind me. Her hands felt like icicles digging into my back, but at the same time the caress of her skin is just what I needed.

“You don't need to call me ma'am. I mean, wouldn't it sound kind of awkward if I called you sir?”

“I don't think I'm old enough for you to call me anything other than my name.” I leaned into her massage as she unwound the knots in my back.

“So I can't call you...” Her lips were now inches away from my ear. “...babe?” Goosebumps rose all over my body, and I could tell Victoria noticed by her slight giggle. I swallowed.

“Never said that.”

Victoria kissed the side of my face. “We might be able to make it all the way to Canada if we leave soon.” I nodded. “Do you think Jake is doing alright?” I exhaled deeply.

“I don't know, Victoria. Last time I saw him he wanted nothing to do with me nor you. Why should we care? All he wants to do is make our lives miserable.”

“He's my son.” Victoria's voice grew stern as her grip on my shoulders tightened up. “It doesn't matter if he hates me, I still love him.”

“Why? What has he done for you?” I replied. Victoria scoffed.

“Can we please just not get into this right now? Honestly, it's still the morning. It's too early for this shit.” She slightly raised her voice, removing her hands from my back.

“I'm sorry.” I was genuine.

“It's fine.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and leaned her head against the back of mine.

If one were to see Victoria and I outside of this hotel room, they would probably guess that she was my mother. How was I fortunate enough to end up with such a wonderful woman? It's a pretty strange story actually, not the average boy meets girl if I do say so myself. In fact, more like child meets woman. A relationship developed over the course of my childhood and her parenthood. Call us crazy, call us sick, but do not make that judgment until you know the story behind it. Sometimes age is just a number. A factor limiting two people that may have the feeling that most would consider love. Or at least the closest thing I've ever had to it. To explain such a phenomenon we will have to start at the beginning. No, not the boring childhood memories, but the strange and exciting months that I had come to know Victoria more than just my friend's mom.