Chapter 20: To Be a Mother

We kept the oven on and would have to wait for the lasagna to become nice and gooey.

Helen had wound up a little egg shaped timer as she asked: “Ya wanna chat in here at the table or chillout on the couch?” Before I could give my answer, she changed her mind. “You, couch. Now.”

“Uh, okay.” I wasn’t sure what that had been about, but I wasn’t going to argue.

We walked out of the kitchen, through the hallway intersection, and turned right into the living room. I passed in between the furniture and a oval shaped coffee table before reaching the couch. And it was a long couch. The extended seat was set along the wall buffering this room and the dinning room. But I believed there had to be something in the wall from my observation of its width.

Just as I sat down on one cushy end of the couch, I was about to ask, “Is there a --”

With a scooted screech by wooden legs, I watched as the oval coffee table was pulled and positioned by her to be set in front of the couch. She shifted it until there was only enough space between the cushions and table’s edge to fit our legs.

After that interruption, I resumed to ask, “Uh, yeah, er… was there a closet or something I missed?”

“Hm?” Just as she sat down by me, I caught the expressed confusion on her face an instant before she looked over her shoulder. “What are ya talkin’ about?”

“Sorry.” Right over my shoulder, I blindly rapped my knuckles against the wall. “It looked thick.”

She returned her attention to me with a smirk and hesitated before saying, “...That’s what she said?”

“Really?” Despite the bad joke, I smiled in amusement.

“But, yeah.” She raised her hand and finger to run an invisible line across the wall. “Go past the kitchen and din’, you’ll be at the trident. Go left and left again, basement, and on that same left, but turn right, attic. Behind ya, or if you’d turned right to begin with, there’s a garage turned workshop turned gym turned guest room.”

My smile transitioned into a cringy one. I thought, ’That was some bad directions being given there.’ I intended to keep that opinion to myself.

So I asked: “If you wouldn’t mind it, I’d like to check it out -- or maybe you would show me?”

“Jus’ relax.” The hand she held up to point out where to go find the basement / attic stair combination, now had its open palm faced towards me. “I wanna see a lil’ something. Cool with it?” That hand curled and wiggled its index at me as if to indicate she wanted to be touchy.

“I-- I guess?” After I shifted my focus away from her wagging finger, I looked at her questioningly and asked: “What are you doing, exactly?”

“I’ll letcha know in a tic. Jus’ seeing with a soft touch.” And with that said, she scooted closer to me.

That hand moved forward and slid along my cheek. It was warmer than I had expected, but I supposed that was from assisting me on how to handle her oven. In a gradual lift of her fingers, I felt the gentle shift of my hair being pulled up and away from the length of my right ear.

I didn’t hear her say it, but I caught the word formed on her lips as she silently said, “Black.”

“What’s black?” I really didn’t like the idea that there was something darkening in my blonde hair.

She hadn’t given me an answer right away, but after a moment of silence, I patted her shoulder to grab back her attention. Then she hesitantly said, “...Remember asking me about horns?”

My mind filled in the blank.

With her suggestive reminder of what we had discussed in the car, my stomach had plummeted on the thought of what had just now been implied. And with that drop, I felt the need to toss back up the luncheon meat I ate in the parking lot.

“Excuse me.” I immediately got up and off the couch, and nearly tipped over the table before shifting around the curved edge to get out. “I’m sorry. Bathroom.”

As I rushed to the bathroom, I heard the concern in her voice as she called out to ask, “Are ya gonna be all...” Then proclaimed: “Be right there behind ya -- door.”

By instinct, I nearly shut the door right in her face before I snatched it back. But I wasted no more time, lifted the toilet seat, and dropped to my knees as I chucked right up, out, and down the chewed up bits of cold meats.

When I wasn’t as flushed in the face from the exertion to purge my stomach, I felt her fingers brushing and holding back my hair. I flushed the scene out of my sight.

“Not good meat, eh?” I shrugged in response. “Well, it’s no good to ya now.”

With a shuddering breath, I attempted to say, “It’s… I’m not having morning sickness, if you were --”

“Stress.”

“-- wondering… huh?” I wiped at my eyes and sat back.

As I leaned up, I felt she must have had knelt down behind me to hold back my hair more easily. Or, I thought, ’To catch me?’ Now that I sat up, I felt dizzy enough to believe in the possibility of falling in the toilet.

She repeated: “Stress.” Then she went on to apologize. “I’m sorry to have burdened ya. I thought you asked me about the horns for a reason, and I thought I saw ya with’em.” On the top of my head, she ruffled my hair and said, “Jus’ wanna be sure I hadn’t imagined it.”

“It?” While she had my hair up and away from my ears, I raised a hand to feel over and around my head. For clarity, I asked: “Just one?”

“Behind the ear.” I supposed she held my hair in one hand as she took mine in her other to guide me behind the elongated cup of my right ear. “Here.”

A hard and pointy bump nestled in the back of my ear. That was all I felt.

Tiny, but it was there. I wondered, ’Is this why I had been disoriented?’

“What does it look like?” As I asked that, I pinched and pulled down my ear for her to have a better look.

“Like ya got a sharp piece of glass stuck in ya.” That was not a pretty image.

“It’s not bleeding, or I guess, looked like it bled?” I wasn’t sure what to say or ask, let alone do about this. But I was growing tired of this scene that had been once a swirling mess in the bowl.

“Nah,” she said. And then added: “Not even a little inflamed bit of red skin. Yer all good, but warn my boy before he cuts himself.”

Oddly enough, once I pictured how that scenario would’ve happened, I laughed. I could see Adam brushing his fingers in through my hair and petting down to the back of my head before he’d cried out an , ’Ow!’ I don’t why, but I really found it hilarious.

“Funny, eh?” Very carefully, I shook my head in denial. “Jus’ a good laugh… here. I’ll help ya up.”

“Hehe… sorry.” As I was stood up, I again had shaken my head and said, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Without intending to, I leaned back and used her as a support to rest against. “Now and again, I liken to a good laugh at the expense of my kids. Jus’ wait, and ye’ll see Denis bring the best yet out of me.”

Without being warned, I felt her shift my hair away from my left ear. I would’ve appreciated being asked, but I kept my mouth shut. And she had remained silent too when I felt her finger tap at another hard protrusion behind my other ear.

“Clem, I think you should rest awhile.” With that good suggestion being mulled over, I turned to idly stare at the bathroom mirror.

What I found in my reflection was a fair haired girl with ashened skin. But my eyes were the most striking color of red I had ever seen. This was more than beyond the border of normal.

With that in mind, I had given up on the notion that Helen was being tolerant of what she saw. I had to ask, “Helen, you know I’m not --”

“Well? Yer sick.” In our reflection, I gave her a disappointed look of disbelief at her ignorance. “It’s all cool. You’ve got more than a bit of Giske in ya. Perhaps by half?”

With a tone of uncertainty in my voice, I almost asked: “What does thammmph?”

She had just wiped away the glistening trace of wet business off of my lips with the hoodie’s sleeve to her wrist stretched up into her palm and held in a fisted grip. Then she let go of her soiled sleeve and dangled her now limp hand out with a lost look as if she wasn’t sure what to do with her hand anymore.

“Ew… Gonna take this off in a wee bit,” she quietly announced between us.

“I’m sorry, but could you warn me next time before doing that?” I heard her give me a little laugh in response. “Please?”

To herself, she supposed: “I ought to be more careful?” On her word, she was being careful where her wrist was when I had been given a surprise hug from behind. “I’m sorry. Next time this happens, I likely should be snoring soundly in my bed dead asleep while yer babe wakes ya for a morning treat.” Then with her being caught up in more amused laughter, she asked: “About that, back to the couch or would ya rather be snug in bed?”

“Wait, do you believe me then?” In the mirror, I saw her calm down her laughter with just a smile. “About me being pregnant?”

“Believing is seeing, and I see through ya the hope for it to be true.” From behind me, I saw her now down to softly place her lips in my hair and felt the soft pressure of a kiss. Then I heard her warmly whisper, “”You’re my boy’s, and I’m not the type who’s about taking hope from ya.” With a lift and rest of her chin on the top of my head, she sighed out: “But let’s wait and see what the test tells us, ‘kay?”

"So... when it is time, do you have a preference?" I watched her raise a brown brow at me in confusion. Then in an entertained voice, I started to list out: "Granny, Mee-Maw, Grammy, Grandma --"

"Shut it." Without another word being said, and as I stifled my own laugh, I was turned away from the toilet and mirror to face the door. And soon, I was being assisted to walk out of the bathroom and back into the hallway.

Quite simply, I just went along with where she had taken me, which was back in her master bedroom. With the sick surge of adrenaline having faded away, I was ready to crash and burn where I stood… Or in this case, walked.

With great care, she had us sit down on the bed, then with her falling weight beside me, I laid down with her. I felt her give me a pat on the shoulder, then the side of my head as a cushy pillow was nudged against my fair crown.

Once I lifted my head and set it back down on the pillow, I felt a shift on the bed that suggested she had slid back and away from me. And the tension underneath me would’ve alerted my sense of the blankets being pulled out… Or at least, attempted to be yanked, but I had been settled with those blankets being curled up and over the wrong way to cover me.

“Clem, I’ll wake ya when it’s time ’ta eat, ‘kay?” In response, I brushed my cheek and jaw down along the pillow in a nod of acceptance. Then she asked: “Do ya want me to stick around?”

“It’s okay.” I glanced up and back at where she stood by her bedside to give her a smile. And I saw why she had stood up, but I played a performance at being as casual as possible with an, “I’ll be fine.”

What I saw that had brought a blush to my face was her removing the hoodie with that shirt beneath coming off right with it. This gave me a bare telling of how incredible she was at keeping fit. I had no idea if this was all from dieting or there was more to it, but this was a middle-aged woman who was a mother of two that had more than just a pleasing physique. She was in a better shape and held one Hell of a figure that most girls at my school would kill themselves to obtain.

It took me a few seconds to realize she hadn’t been wearing a bra. The shirt and hoodie was a good cover for me not to have noticed. But for a moment, I wondered, ’Why?’ Her rack had to have been heavy.

Then I reflected on the fact we were rushed by a fleeing Adam and our situation to go out under the complete impression that my state was an emergency. The need for the pill probably preceded any thought of decency or comfort, otherwise I believed she would’ve remained in bed. And likely slept in the whole morning, let alone taken the time to wear a bra or probably put on her face and more.

After all, I did recollect Adam had said something about his mom had a tendency to be not such a good morning person. She definitely displayed frustration. Then there was that instance she’d physically vented a small portion of anger out on her steering wheel.

Despite her unpredictable nature, she was without a doubt one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid eyes on… Correction: human women. The supernatural entities had a category of their own.

As of right now, I might’ve been wrong for feeling this way, but I kind of appreciated the show she gave me. It had been obvious I was still entirely into women.

Because of that, I still couldn’t fathom the reasons behind why I desired Adam so much. I was aware of the influence being a factor, but I had to admit there wasn’t much of a difference whenever I became frosty; I continued to care about him.

For the time being, I wanted to stop trying to understand what was going on with me. I watched Adam’s mom for a moment longer before I averted my gaze. I knew she was switching out of her soiled clothes for something clean, but I had wondered, ’Why didn’t she warn me she was changing?’

“...’Till ya sleep, I’ll watch over ya.” Before I could protest a single peep of surprise at her suggestion, she said, “I do not wanna be cleaning up off my bed the same mess you left in the crapper.”

That remark about earlier made me feel guilty, but the comment also had brought a more genuine smile on my lips. “I’m sorry.” I felt the need to tell her, “Thank you for… well, for everything.”

She gave me a thumbs up and said, “Get some shut-eye. We’ll yap more at the table.”

As I turned my head to lay my cheek back down on the pillow, I felt the shift on the bed. I assumed she either had sat or laid back to keep an eye on me, but I believed half of her attention was also on the computer. The reason for that belief was because I heard the few clickety-taps and mousy-clicks suggesting as much.

There were still some unanswered questions floating around, like how she continued to be ignorant of my transformation, but I agreed with the notion to rest now. I could include Helen when I finally take the opportunity in revealing all to Adam. He’d at least support my claims.

Another person lived here as well, and I wondered, ’How do I go about showing and telling Adam’s dad? Should I tell him?’ I would have to find out what kind of man he was first.

Once the little background noises and deep thoughts I had were tuned out, and had my eyes closed long enough, I drifted off to sleep...

 

---

 

Within the embrace of a great warmth, I stirred until finally awakening to the sight of the surrounding darkness. I had wondered, ‘Am I going to see that demon smiling at me again?’

Very slowly, I lifted my head up and was about to look around some more, but found the frigid winds of a snowy white landscape to greet me. The darkness I had initially seen was the wintery night above --

-- but beneath me was the black inferno that should’ve belonged in the sky. As I sat up, I observed how each lick of its dark flame caressed me and left no mark.

It was simply warm to the touch.

“How…?” I had no idea where to begin my questioning. I could’ve started with what the flames were doing here in the snow, why I was not burning, or where had the dark demon gone, but I had no listeners to give me an answer.

As far as I could tell, I was alone sitting within an island of black flames in the middle of a desolate arctic world. A frozen desert.

Just as slowly as I had sat up, I stood. And when I had finally stood up, I saw I was wrong yet again about what surrounded me; I wasn’t alone.

Whenever the winds picked up the layers of frost off the ground, I caught the transparent outline of someone nearby. I recognized that invisibility.

To the fiend standing just outside the flames, I asked: “What do you want?”

In response, I heard a familiar laughter carried up with the winds and echoed throughout the frozen flats. The maniacal nature of its laugh told me it was likely the lightning demon.

The one I named Giske.

“No point in hiding.” I pointed out a fact. “I see you.”

With a crackle of dark sparks and blinding electric flare, I blinked for my sight to come back and saw her revealed before me. Just as I stood bare and exposed, so had she. And I noticed our skin had a light ashened colored tone, but in comparison to her, she was a stark white whereas I was closer to darkening.

In contrast to my fair hair, her long hair was in the a shade of midnight. I remembered Helen said my little nubs behind the ears were black and like glass, and the horns I saw on her looked obsidian black. At least my lips were nowhere near being as charcoal black.

Those black lips blossomed open to reveal her predatory smile. And as I stared at her with my bright red eyes, she looked back and locked me with a pair of deep black ones.

Softly shaking my head, I again asked: “What do you want?”

She no longer stood, but instead crouched down in a stance that reminded me of a gargoyle ready to pounce from her perch. Except she had no wings to fully match that description. And as much as I didn’t like her company, she was nowhere near as ugly for me to compare her with those stone-faced monsters.

But she was more scary. Especially when she began to smile and reveal more of those sharp teeth.

In a worried voice, I asked: “Are you hungry?” That made her laugh again, but I wasn’t certain if that had been a yes or no. So I again asked:“If you are, just go back to that highway and grab a demon.”

In response, she straightened and squated upright, lazily hanging her wrists over those wide open thighs. I had a full view of the sleek black strip between her legs, but my focus was on her eyes as she looked at me.

This was becoming another case of not knowing if she understood me. Having seen her animalistic behavior and crazy outbursts of laughter, it was possible that Giske was insane and couldn’t comprehend any language.

Then again, I was absolutely not an expert on these things.

Once again, I asked: “What do you want?” Then I added: “Do you understand me?”

With a casual twist of her wrist, she gestured for me to come closer. I saw the distance from me and her, and the flames was the boundary she had not passed.

So I indulged her request a little by taking a step closer. I watched her react by smiling less.

She stood back up --

-- and took a step into the flames. In a paralyzing fright, I watched in fear as she slowly walked towards me.

This black island was all I had thought protected me from her. Now I saw differently, that this might have just been a warm bed for me to stay in this cold place. But I wondered, ‘Should I run?’

“Wuh-- what do you want?” I was afraid she’d show rather than tell me. “Do -- do you understand? Please tell me?”

Without having received a word from her, I took a step back. And she stopped in mid-step.

Her smile faded down to a small smirk.

In an instant of brightness, I desperately blinked to regain my sight. But I felt her touch, those hands on me said she was right in front of me. Close enough to have done whatever she desired.

Beneath my jaw, and slightly around my throat, I felt her gently grip me with one hand. Her other hand gone to hold my arm and gave me a tug hard enough to silently say, ‘Stay.’ I hadn’t thought it was possible for me to have done anything more than to be blinking this moment away.

Once I recovered my sight, I saw her and was surprised to discover she was shorter than me. Her horns were misleading.

She looked up at me, and I watched her trail that dark gaze gradually down between us. Those eyes halted their travel down someplace that made me feel all the more uncomfortably terrified of her intent.

My throat was released, but I felt her black nails run down the front of my collarbone and between my breasts until her palm rested on my abdomen. That was where she was staring.

In that moment, I realized an ultimate horror and pleaded: “Puh-- please, dah-- don’t hurt --”

“Hungry.” As I finally heard her speak to me, her eyes came back up to meet my terrified ones. I had stopped breathing when I thought over what she had possibly implied.

Regardless of my fear induced paralysis, I found the strength or courage to will my free arm to bar protectively across the life inside me. But all she had done was shift her hand off of my middle to grab that arm and pull it away and down along my other side as well.

“No good.” Her face came closer to mine. “Cowering… I lost my children the same way.” From behind me, I felt something snake its way up my leg: her tail. “You, a mother? Shall you do the same, nothing? And remain cowering, the fate I received?”

Within a blurred episode of panic, I was aware that I struggled against her and had pleaded, but I believed I was incoherently crying or babbling. I wasn’t sure.

There was no way for me to tell how much time had passed, but I realized I had been laid down on the warm flames of the ground with her straddling my narrow waist. Her hands held my arms down, and I felt her tail was still someplace along my legs, but otherwise she appeared to have done nothing more than pushed me down and crawled on top of me.

She was frowning when she said, “...Your new daughter is a disappointment.” Her dark eyes glanced away from me to someplace above us.“Gahn coasaint is mhise aoshiabhra marv.”

“Her tongue is English. In her tongue, lessons learned.” That voice… “Your tongues in Ireren fall on deaf ears.”

In an instant, Giske let go of me, but remained straddled over top of me. Her gaze dropped back down to me. “One who does not defend her child is not a mother.” She leaned over me and got into my face to state: “You chose not to protect her, and here, again. I promise, the next we meet, you do nothing, and it will be a harsh lesson.”

And in another instant, she blinded me with her flash of black lightning to bolt elsewhere off and away from me. I hadn’t bothered to move and kept my eyes shut until I could breathe calmly.

As I laid there, I felt another warmth wrap around me. The darkness told me to, “Rest.” It was her, the dark demonic mother who now spoke to me. “Ask and reflect later. Sleep.”

“Sleep?” Still with my eyes closed, I called out to ask, “You expect me to rest easy now knowing that thing is who you intended to -- to what? That’s the mentor you mentioned!?” I should've been afraid, but I was more angry at this demonic darkness now more than ever. "Forgive me, Grandma Satan, but fuck you if I'm going to lay here like lamb-chops for the next Chomper to come by for a snack!"

“Wha-- Grandma, I -- You...?!" I was taken aback by the frustrated tone of voice, then she growled out a simple, "No." After a moment of hearing her mumbling, she returned to her usual self. "Mentor? Not her. I chose another of mine. She rules here.” For some reason, that was not entirely a relief, but it was a start. “As for that one who likens to you. She was…”

I waited for her to continue, but there was nothing more said. I prompted her by asking, “She was what?”

“...Curious?” That sounded like she was uncertain. Directly down at me, I heard her state: “Ask, after I have.”

“You don’t -- you’re going to ask her what this was about?” I had to be certain I understood this.

“Yes.” The warmth was seeping into me further until I found myself starting to doze off. “Sleep.”

“Like Hell I will.” I crossed my arms over my abdomen and begun to curl up. In a whisper, I said, “She told me she was hungry.”

“Yes.” The darkness folded more around me until it was absolute. “She felt it. Our child is hungry.”

“...You -- wait, she didn’t mean herself?”

“Before her coming here, she feasted.” To clear up anymore misunderstandings, she said, “Her hunger and curiosity, satisfied. You, I will watch and protect. Sleep.”

It took another minute, then I had surrendered to sleep. I wasn’t certain if it was the comfort of her warm embrace or if she was influencing me in some way, but I had fallen back into a familiar deep slumber. It was the likes of which I’d only experienced once before; when I collapsed on the highway.

Only instead of the fiery daughter sleeping with me, I had an infernal mother watching over me...

 

---

 

As I shifted in a more comfortable position, I continued to feel the same exact warmth wrapped around me. At the time, I believed I was still trapped in my nightmarish frozen Hell. But when I opened my eyes and blinked at the light pouring in through the window, I thought differently.

At first, I tried to comprehend what I was witnessing. A window, the sunlight coming in, and the inside of a bedroom with twin dresser setup up along the wall. There was a varied clutter of trinkets and doohickies all over the top of those dressers. Even a blanket or two draped down over the top drawers.

Then I realized where I was. This was Helen’s bed I slept in. I smiled at that, but still felt tired and decided to see if I could discover a dreamless sleep.

Once more, I shifted to find a comfortable spot. And in the middle of my movement, I felt the warmth around me had shifted and embraced me tightly for a mere second. Then the hold relaxed and rested over top of me.

With care, I maneuvered my hand to feel the length of an arm over me. I smiled a little more with a guess: Helen had missed her morning’s sleep and likely couldn’t stay up any longer. But that did worry me about the state of our lasagna.

Since I had not showered this morning, I decided on slipping out from under her and to take one now. Setting aside the need to sleep, I believed it was currently in the afternoon. To point this out, the sunlight had a darker shade at this time.

So after my slippery escape from Helen’s bed and room, I checked on the oven and saw it was still retained its good looks. And it appeared Helen had kept on top of rotating it. Now the oven was on warm and just waiting for the men to return home.

Seeing that Adam wasn’t around me, I also decided to take a break from those ice-cold showers and enjoy this one. I left the kitchen and headed straight into the bathroom. After I undressed, I hopped in and cranked up the heat for once.

When I finished with the shower, I grabbed a towel -- never needing to dry off anymore -- and covered up before I headed out to Adam’s room.

While in the hall, I paused as I heard the front door of the house open. I was taken by surprise when I heard and then saw Helen scramble out of the kitchen to intercept -- my guess was Adam -- and lead him right back outside, slamming the front door.

In my shock, I hurried to her bedroom to see she wasn’t there anymore. I supposed she had checked on the lasagna as well. And it would make sense that she hadn’t notified me she was awake since I was in the shower.

But at that point, my heart leapt up into my throat at what the two of them could be talking about out there.

I hurried into Adam’s room and went through his clothes to find something to wear so I could go outside. I just grabbed the first items out of his drawers. I threw on a sleeveless tank and a pair of beige boxers, and I was immediately heading out of Adam’s room in perhaps my second most risque outfit yet -- in comparison to my night out in just a shirt. I didn’t care; hearing what Helen and Adam were about to say to one another was far more important than my modesty.

Around the front yard, I searched for only a moment before I headed to the side of their house. There, I saw the both of them had walked and stood by a shed at the corner of their backyard and the alley. Helen was blindly pointing my way as Adam ducked into the shed to hide or, I guessed, grab something.

Then he came out with a ladder.

“Oh.” Now I understood what was going on.

Helen had grabbed him to get to work on the gutter and downspout. I wasn’t sure if the two of them were having the serious talk or if this was a discussion about the house being in disrepair. Possibly both, for all I knew.

Now I had to choose: walk out there and display my presence or sneak back in so I wouldn’t be in their way. I favored not getting in their way, but also wanted to be around to hear what they had to say. I was pretty sure they were headed for the gutter; it was next to the front door and I could easily just hide myself in the doorway to eavesdrop on them.

Quickly turning about, I rushed to the front yard and steered myself back into the house. I left the front door open a crack so I could see when they passed by.

After a minute of waiting, I heard Helen: “-- a man now. You better get used to it!”

“But Mom! Really, I didn’t -- It was ah, an accident.” Then I saw the ladder coming into view, Adam carrying it, and Helen looming over him like an angry hen ready to peck him again.

“Bullshmm… Mhm, sorry.” I winced at her nearly cursed outburst. “Aha, responsibility! You know very well who’s responsible for her well being and ya dumped her on me.” She was apparently still sore on that subject. “Didn’t bother to ask her how she felt, didja?” She straightened up and called out: “Stop! I told you there! Right there… Can’t ya see the sludge drippin’ from the ledge?”

Adam paused, dropped the ladder, took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with the hem of his shirt. “They fogged up Mom, so, ah, no. I couldn’t see it.” He didn’t sound very happy. I guessed I wouldn’t be jumping with joy either if I came home to this kind of welcome.

I inhaled sharply when I realized he mentioned his glasses fogging up.

One peek out the door, I then took note that the both of them were sweating. I hoped that wasn’t because of me. There was no me nearby to have eye contact with anyone this time, so I shouldn’t be causing this.

They were in a heated discussion and Adam was laboring with the ladder. Helen also held some items in her hands, too. The tools looked like a bundle of nails, a hammer, and… 

“Oh fuck. Not duct tape,” I said in dismay.

...That would only be a temporary fix. I would have managed a permanent fixture to attach the gutter and the port to the downspout. A clamp, drilled into the wall, would hold the downspout as well.

With duct tape, not only would it be temporary, but it wouldn’t be a pretty sight against their barn-like home. Like a revealing dull steel to announce to the neighborhood that we were in need of skill. I would have liked to have had us featured as a capable family who could be called on to help around the neighborhood.

“Set it up there -- Don’t worry, I’ll hold ya steady.” I could hear Helen instruct Adam where to set the ladder up and where she would be to hold the bottom of the ladder when he would climb up.

My only worry now was how they would nail the downspout to the gutter and wall. I didn’t want to envision the clogging trap that could be nailed in.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to head out and inspect the handy house work they were up to.

Out the front door, I asked: “What are you two doing?”

Adam and Helen both looked in my direction at the same time.

Helen smiled and pointed up at the gutter with a hammer in hand.

Adam was halfway up the ladder with a nervous look on his face. I wasn’t sure if he was like that because of the height he was currently at or that I was present after what all Helen had talked with him about. I’d only caught the tail end of their conversation, but I knew he was aware of how pissed his mom was at what he’d done this morning.

“Jus’ teaching my boy how to be a man,” Helen said and then smacked his rump with the flat side of the hammer. “‘Ere, take this.”

“Ow! That hurt.” He rubbed his tush first, then snatched the hammer away from his mom. “Which am I fixing first? The ledge or gutter?”

Confused, I blurted out: “Ledge?” I tilted my head to look up at the gutter. “What ledge? You have a gutter and downspout to fix. Leave the roof alone.”

“How am I supposed to nail it on, then?” As he said that, I gaped at him and silently turned to face his mother.

She tried to correct him. “I told ya to nail the corners upward, at an up angle, into the downspout and gutter.”

“Into the roof, right?” Looking back up, I could see how confused Adam was with the instructions Helen had given him.

Then I remembered how she had given me directions to her basement, attic, and that garage or whatever it was now. I sighed and realized that the duct tape might not be a bad idea to use right now, after all. At least then they wouldn’t damage anything further than it already had been.

“Helen, do you mind if I do it?” At least I understood what could be done with what they had at their disposal.

“Let Adam handle it.” She handed up a nail for him and he swiftly took it from her. “Why don’tcha go back in and rest a little? We’ll be inside in a moment.”

I lifted my gaze back up to Adam and cringed as I saw how he was aiming the hammer upwards like he was about to smack himself in the face.

Helen was right. I couldn’t stand and watch this while not being allowed to assist. If I tried to give orders, the clarity in the instructions would only confuse Adam more as Helen told him what to do.

“I’ll be inside.” I gave Adam a wave and said, “Welcome home.” Then turned to head back in.

“Ah, wait! Cli -- Clementine? I’ll be in, ah, in a moment.” Glancing over my shoulder, I smiled and nodded just before opening the door back up and going into the house. I silently hoped and prayed that he would at least survive the trip down the ladder.

A lot of hammering and a shout or two later, I heard the front door open and shut.

Helen and Adam came up while I relaxed on the couch. Leaning forward to rest my arms over my knees, I gave Adam an expectant look before asking him: “How did it go?”

“I think it’ll stay up.” Shifting my gaze from Adam, I saw Helen give the both of us a shrug and just knew the gutter would have to be worked on again.

Smiling back at Adam, I nodded and said, “Okay. Good work, and thank you for taking it off of my hands.” I sat back again and made a little space on the couch to see if he wanted to sit by me or go elsewhere.

“I’m gonna wash up.” He held up his icky hands to show me a very familiar sludge that had hit me in the head yesterday. I cringed and gave him a thumbs up, knowing that if he was hammering with that crud sloshing around, the dark green and black substance had probably sprinkled all over him.

Adam walked away and headed for the bathroom.

Helen gestured for me to get up with a wave of her hand. “Ah, Clem, mind if ya come with me for a sec?”

“Sure.” I got up and followed her into the hallway, then into the master bedroom before I was told to close the door. Leaning my back against the door, I asked: “What’s up?”

“You may want to take more consideration on what you wear before going out.” After she said that, I looked down at myself and nodded. I saw how I was dressed and felt like a piece of white trash in this outfit. The only thing missing were a few faded tramp tattoos and a cigarette between my lips while bouncing a wailing baby in my arm.

“Sorry. I just -- I saw... Sorry, no -- I heard both of you and rushed out soon as I could. I wanted to know what was being talked about.” I glanced back at her while I was adjusting the tank top to not be so snug around my nearly revealed figure underneath -- now that she’d made me conscious of my appearance.

She had an amused grin, which I could only assume was because of how embarrassed I had become.

“About you. Ah, yeah, that went real well. He’s regretting it.” That made me stop fidgeting and stare at her in growing fright. Hastily, she corrected herself. “Ah, I mean, how he bailed on ya this morning. Don’t get the wrong idea, he’s head over heels for ya. He’s gonna take responsibility. No worries!”

Sighing in relief, I also tried to take what she’d said into consideration. I wondered, ’What if our roles were reversed? If I’d done this to Erin, would I be doing the same thing or trying to find a way out of it?’

At this point of my life, I couldn’t be sure. My mind would no longer be a trustworthy guide when it came to judging who I once was.

“What I want to talk to ya about is this Clint character.” Helen sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned down, like I had earlier, crossing her arms over the knees to look at me while talking. “Who is he? I’ve caught Adam almost call ya Clint a few times and now that cop wants ‘im.” Her finger lifted up to point me out as she said, “Ah, yeah, Mike, that muscly officer that thought Clint was you. Had to explain to ‘im ya was carrying my grandkid.” She smirked and said, “Ya missed the funniest face. He didn’t know whatta say after I informed him of that.”

Before I answered her question, I had one. “What did he want?”

“Not sure. I don’t believe he really knows either. Kept contradicting himself.” I raised a brow at that information. She nodded and said, “Yep. That cop was flustered and confused. He couldn’t keep his story straight at all. Either he was looking for Clint, you -- as in you you when he saw ya -- or just wanted to ask ya a few questions and be on his way. He kept switching around what he wanted to do with ya. When he had the chance -- ya saw what happened! He upped and left! Go figure dat one out.”

Nodding, I asked her: “You remember what I told you yesterday about myself?”

“About your name.” She nodded and rolled her hand as if to gesture I should get on with it.

“I think I told you my house burned down last night, right?” She nodded, but before I could continue her head and shoulders shot straight up with a face that told me she put two and two together to make four.

“He thinks you did it?” She relaxed and shook her head with a smile. “That explains his bull and horn strategy until I snagged him with your motherly condition.”

With that description, I suddenly pictured Helen in a matador outfit and Mike as a massive bull being led by the horns into the sharp point she had readied for him behind the antagonizing red cape.

Setting aside the image she gave me of their conversation, I was also amazed she would mention my condition to Mike like that. Thinking rationally, not a full day had passed since conception and Helen had placed a lot of faith in my word that I was indeed pregnant. I knew I was, but she still had a lot of trust for someone she had only just met. I thought, ’Maybe it isn’t me she has faith in, but Adam?’

That would have made more sense. Whoever her son trusted, she trusted.

That would also explain why she was so angry with him this morning.

“Ah, then what’s the deal with Adam calling ya Clint all the time?” I didn’t want to blow her off, but I had tried answering that question yesterday, so I just shrugged. “Should I ask ‘im?”

“I mean, you could ask him? That’s the name he’s known me by for years.” After I said that, she glanced away for a moment and made a bit of an ‘Oh’ face.

“Yeah, I remember him mentioning a Clint busted his lip. Right, that was you.” She leaned back down onto her knees and looked me over once. “Why the alias?”

For just a second, I had to remember what that word meant and how it was utilized. “Well, you know, when kicking ass on the playground --”

“Ya made it up to fool ‘em teachers?” I cringed and shook my head in response to that. “The kids’ parents?” I sighed and shook my head again. “Go on. Tell me why.”

“It’s my name. Nickname, at least.” My full first name would have been Clinton, but that wasn’t important right now. “Oh, and Adam already told me how much Clem and Tina would have been more appropriate.”

“They are and I’m sticking with Clem. Ya won’t catch me calling a pretty girl like yourself Clint.” Hearing me being called pretty just didn’t sound right, not when I used to take it as an insult, but I still responded to the compliment with a shy smile. “Ah, cute too. No way are ya the ruggiest Eastwood.”

I shook my head while laughing. “Why Eastwood? I mean, there are other Clints in the world to compare --”

Now she was the one wildly shaking her head, enough to make her mousy brown hair whip around. “Nope! Not gonna do it. Don’t even make me think about you with a scratchy sandpaper chin.”

“Pfft! I bet I’d be the handsomest one with one.” I lifted my chin up and plucked at the smooth, feminine line of my jaw like I was lighting a match with it, then cupped my hands together as if I had a smoke. Then I gave her the trademark squinty eyes while, in a gruff voice, I said, “See?”

“Ah, Gawdammit! Go! Get out before you give me nightmares!” I was bent over laughing at her, but I opened the door blindly to back out when she reached back for a pillow. When I closed the door, I heard a soft thud on the other side of the door. “See if I letcha sleep in my bed again!”

I called through the door in my best imitation of the actor: “Not today, punk!” Laughing almost hysterically, I ran into Adam’s room and shut the door behind me.

Leaning into the door, I lowered my head and shoulders to breathe out slowly and cool it. Helen had gotten me in a good mood, and I didn’t want to sour hers with what I had planned. Not yet.

But when Adam came back here, I wanted to be serious with him about us. I had to reveal everything.

We needed to know each other better if our relationship could work.

Shaking my head, I whispered to myself: “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m actually thinking like that.” I shrugged and responded to an unspoken question. “What else can I call it? We have a relationship and I care about him, his family, and what they think about me.” I made a mental note that I hadn’t had the best opportunity to get to know Adam’s dad yet.

But I guessed tonight’s lasagna dinner would work that out...