Mom asked rhetorically, “What are you doing?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I replied.
“You didn’t do anything?” she pressed.
“Yeah, I didn’t do anything.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I didn’t want to do anything.”
“What didn’t you want to do?”
“I... oh, by the way, I want to go to the toilet.”
After speaking, I slipped into the bathroom. I stayed there for a while, feeling uneasy. When I came out, Mom was already gone. The stockings that had been in the laundry basket had disappeared too. I let out a long breath, my heart racing. That was so close. I almost fell into her trap. From the way she acted, though, it seemed she was still conflicted deep inside.
That night, Mom still sat nearby while I studied, but she had become much more conservative. She started wearing jeans around the house, which was honestly disappointing. On the bright side, I could finally focus on my books in peace.
Lying in bed that night, I replayed the events of the past few days over and over. Around the same time as the previous evening, I got up quietly, opened the door on tiptoe, and crept toward the balcony. There was no movement outside. It seemed Mom wasn’t chatting with Aunt Sophia on the phone like before. A pang of disappointment washed over me.
For the next two days, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mom was acting strangely. She kept glancing at me sideways, like she was watching a suspicious character. On the third day, after dinner, I was sitting on the sofa discussing the Premier League with Dad when Mom walked over. She hooked her finger at me, motioning for me to follow her into the bedroom.
Her unusual behavior lately had made me nervous. I had no idea what she wanted, and part of me wondered if I should suggest she see a psychiatrist. Once inside, Mom sat on the stool by the dressing table, tapping her fingers rhythmically on its surface as she looked at me. She seemed highly alert around me.
After a moment of silence, she asked, “How have things been at school lately?”
“Very good,” I answered.
“Very good? So what about your studies? Have you been studying seriously?”
“Yes.”
“And Lily? Have you been spending time with her recently?”
“No.”
“You” Mom looked puzzled. “Why are you so different from usual?”
“What’s different?”
“Why isn’t there that smooth, teasing tone anymore? You’re not saying any weird things.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“It is good... but I feel a little unaccustomed to it. It seems strange. Do you have something on your mind?” Mom frowned, then forced a stiff smile, trying to sound kind. “Come on, don’t be embarrassed. Tell Mom.”
“I have nothing on my mind.” You think I’m acting weird? I think you’re the one acting weird.
“You do,” she insisted, raising her eyebrows and staring at me sideways.
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I really don’t.”
With a sharp pop, Mom slapped the table hard, her eyes widening as she declared, “You do!”
“I do,” I nodded quickly, surrendering.
Mom patted the edge of the bed and smiled. “Come on, sit down and talk to Mom.”
I sighed helplessly and sat. She reproached me with a slightly unhappy expression, “At your age, what are you sighing about?”
I wasn’t even sure why I had sighed. I sat on the bed, trying to look well-behaved. After waiting a long time without me speaking, Mom grew anxious. “Go on, tell me what’s on your mind. We’ve known each other for more than ten years. There’s nothing you can’t tell me.” She glanced at me, then clapped her hands together. “Tell you what—don’t think of me as your mother today. Think of me as your good friend.”
I couldn’t help but show a look of disbelief, smiling with mild disgust. “Mom, are you being serious? How old am I? You’re still playing this ‘good friends’ game with me?”
My words made her blush. She reached out and slapped me lightly on the head. I covered the spot and complained aggrievedly, “Mom, you hit me again. My good friend would never hit me.”
Mom clearly acted on instinct. After the slap, regret flickered across her face. She gently stroked my head and said softly, “Sorry, sorry. I’m used to it. Mom didn’t mean it.”
“Your habit isn’t very good,” I said with a wry smile.
We sat in awkward silence for a while. Then Mom suddenly stood up, smiling. “Face to face, maybe you’re too embarrassed to open up. I get it—you care about saving face. Okay, come here.” She pulled me toward the left side of the bed, placed her hands on my shoulders, and gently but firmly pressed me down.
I was startled and quickly sat up. “What are you doing?”
“Lie down. Don’t move,” she warned.
I lay obediently on my parents’ bed. Seeing the slight shyness on Mom’s face made my heart skip a beat. Could Mom be about to offer some special comfort to ease my teenage urges? Was one of those wild stories from online novels actually happening to me? The source of this chapter is NovelPing.
...Impossible.
I looked at her nervously yet expectantly. Mom walked quickly to the other side of the bed and lay down beside me. My anxiety grew. “Mom, what exactly are you doing?”
She lay on her back and said, “Lie like me. Don’t look at me.”
I hesitated, then lay flat, staring straight at the ceiling. Suddenly, Mom’s left hand brushed against my right and gently held it. My heart leaped. Her hand was smooth, warm, and delicate like fine jade, with a faint dampness in her palm. She seemed nervous too.
“Mom... what do you want to do?”
“It’s said online that not looking at each other makes it easier to communicate openly. Come on, now you can talk to Mom from the heart.”
So that was it. I felt ridiculous for my earlier wild thoughts, but a small wave of disappointment followed.
“Say what’s really in your heart?”
“You can say anything—things you wanted to say before but didn’t dare to tell me.”
“What do I want to say but don’t dare?” I muttered to myself, then added, “If I say it, don’t get angry or hit me.”
“Why would I hit you? Who do you think your mother is—a tigress? Don’t worry, go ahead.”
“Then I’ll say it. It’s really hard singing with you. Every time we go to KTV, it feels like a disaster. I honestly don’t want to sing with you anymore.”
“You—!” Mom sat up abruptly and glared at me. “Are you looking for trouble?”
I saw her raise her arm as if to strike and quickly covered my head. “You said you wouldn’t hit me!”
She froze, her hand suspended in the air. After a long pause, she lowered it and forced a smile. “I won’t hit you. If I said I wouldn’t, then I won’t.”
At that moment, the bedroom door opened. Dad stepped in and froze at the sight. “You two... what are you doing?”
Mom stared at him and said loudly, “We’re having a psychological counseling session. Don’t interrupt us—get out quickly!”
Dad shrank back, startled, retreated, and closed the door firmly. Mom lay back down, smiling. “The intruder is gone. You can continue.”
“I’m done. That’s all I had to say. I’ve wanted to tell you that secret for a while but was afraid you’d lose your temper.”
“Who told you to talk about me?” Mom said, both angry and amused. “I didn’t ask you to talk about me. Talk about yourself—what secrets do you have? Something unspeakable, for example.”
“Unspeakable?” I thought for a moment. Mom had been steering the conversation in that direction the whole time. I knew what worried her, but I believed I could handle it myself. There was no need for her concern.
I turned over and got out of bed. “Forget it. I really have nothing to say. I’d rather use this time to do a couple of practice papers.” I started to leave, but Mom shouted, “Stop! Lie back down!”
I clicked my tongue and lay down reluctantly. Not knowing what else to say, I turned the question back on her. “Since we’re supposed to be good friends, you can’t just make me talk. What about you? What secrets do you have that you can’t tell anyone?”
“Me?” Mom thought for a moment. A blush crept across her cheeks. She pursed her lips and smiled shyly. “I really do have a secret.”
Now interested, I asked quickly, “What secret? Have you ever been emotionally unfaithful?”
“Hit you!” she scolded.
I shut my mouth immediately. After a long silence, Mom laughed softly and whispered, “I... I want to pee when I’m nervous.”
I turned my head, surprised. Mom’s face turned even redder as she explained embarrassedly, “I’ve said it now. Even your father doesn’t know this secret.”
I propped my head up with my hand, lying on my side and looking at her with interest. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything. Turns out you get nervous too—and even need to pee when you do.”
Mom’s face flushed deeper. “Don’t laugh! I’m not some emotionless robot. Of course I get nervous. Let me tell you, every time I attend your parent-teacher meetings, I’m incredibly anxious.”
“What’s so nerve-wracking about a parent-teacher meeting?”
“Do you remember when you were in third grade? You lit your classmate’s braid on fire. Your teacher scolded me in front of all the parents, saying we had no proper upbringing and that I couldn’t discipline my child. Ever since then, I’ve been terrified of going to your meetings.”
I rolled my eyes upward, trying to recall. It took a while, but the memory surfaced. I smiled sheepishly. “That was just a joke. I only meant to scare her. I didn’t expect it to actually catch fire.”
“You scared her by lighting her hair? The girl and her father nearly set fire to our car in return. Your dad and I apologized profusely, but we still let you off the hook.”
“It’s too exaggerated. It was just kids being kids.”
“You think it was just a fight. They saw it as bullying.”
“Okay, okay, let’s drop it. It’s ancient history. Why bring it up now? I respect women a lot these days. I’m a full-on feminist.”
“Feminism is nonsense. Do you even know what it means? You hear a word and throw it around without understanding.”
“Women’s equality and respect for women,” I replied. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Mom sneered. “Respect women? Touching someone’s legs on the bus—that’s what you call respect?”
“I was wronged!” I sat up quickly. “If you’re going to bring that up again, I’m leaving. Stop talking about it!”
“Fine, fine. I won’t mention it.” Mom reached out and gently pulled me back down. “It’s your turn. I shared one of my secrets, so you have to share one too.”
I frowned and thought hard, trying to come up with something safe to share. Nothing meaningful came to mind. Mom waited patiently. When I stayed silent, she asked directly, “Alright, let me ask you this. When did you start with Lily ?”
I answered without hesitation, “First year of Middle School “
“First year of middle school?” Mom was visibly shocked. “That early, you two already...?”
“Yes. It was your birthday that year. You and Aunt Sophia got drunk. You kept insisting we were a little couple and forced me to call Aunt Sophia ‘Mom.’ Don’t you remember?”
“Was there something like that?”
“Yes. After that, we started calling each other husband and wife as a joke. It started playfully, but somehow it became real. Didn’t you and Aunt Sophia already know about us?”
“Ah... oh!” Mom exclaimed in realization. “So you’re talking about you two dating.”
“What else would I be talking about?” Then it hit me. “Oh... you meant that.”
“Yes, that’s what I meant.”
I thought to myself that Mom was surprisingly curious about my private life. After pondering for a moment, I continued, “It was the year before last, when I was a freshman in high school.”
“That early?” Mom sounded surprised.
“It’s not that early. Some classmates started even younger, back in middle school. I was actually late compared to them.”
Mom stayed quiet for a long time before asking, “Who started it first?”
“What do you mean, who started it?” I didn’t catch on right away.
“It’s just... who seduced whom? Was it you or her?”
“It wasn’t like that. We developed feelings for each other.”
“You kids these days are really...advanced .”
“That’s true. With so much information online, it’s hard not to be.”
“Then... how often do you...?”
I sat up, startled, and looked at her with a mix of laughter and tears. “Mom, isn’t that question a bit too personal?”
“I’m your mother. What can’t I ask?” she replied, though she looked a little embarrassed.
“Fine.” I lay back down, thought for a while, and answered honestly, “At first, it was three or four times a day. Then it became once a day, and later once every two days.”
“So often?” Mom interrupted before I could finish.
Since we had already gone this far, there was no point in feeling embarrassed. I spoke plainly, “It felt fresh at the beginning, so we were inseparable. Later, the novelty wore off. Now it’s usually once a week, sometimes twice. Mainly because schoolwork is much more stressful, and Lily isn’t as interested anymore. Unless I really can’t hold back...”
The room fell into an awkward silence. Mom didn’t seem to know how to respond. I considered changing the subject when she asked, “What happens when you really can’t hold back?”
I sat up again, looking at her in disbelief. “Mom, your questions are getting out of line. How do you expect me to answer that?”
“No, I just want to know how long you can hold it. What happens if you can’t? Do you end up touching people’s legs on the bus?”
“Why are you bringing that up again? Are you ever going to let it go? I can’t talk to you like this.” I felt like crying but had no tears.
“I’m concerned about you. I don’t want you to go down the wrong path,” Mom said, slipping back into her lecturing tone.
“Oh, what am I supposed to tell you?” I scratched my head in frustration. “Don’t worry, I won’t go astray, okay? I know you care, but talking about this stuff between mother and son feels weird and embarrassing. Why don’t you let Dad handle this conversation instead?”
“Him? Has he ever worried about anything at home?” Mom snorted coldly. “He just washes his hands of everything.”
“Mom, I really need to go back and study. Let’s talk another day.” Without waiting for her reply, I got up and hurried out, closing the door behind me. Talking like “good friends” with Mom was suffocating.
Dad walked over and asked curiously in a low voice, “What were you two talking about?”
“Secrets,” I replied.
“Secrets you can’t share with me?”
I smiled. “Don’t you have your own secrets too?”
Dad shivered slightly, nodded, and walked away