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I will never forget the evening that my parents called me into the living room to tell me something that destroyed just about everything I thought was true, but also forged new bonds. It happened about four months after my nineteenth birthday.
“Sit down, Nick.” my father said.
I could tell by the worried expressions on his and my mother’s faces that they were about to deliver bad news. In those few seconds of silence all sorts of dreadful possibilities raced through my mind: they were getting divorced… someone had died… someone was dying of cancer… President Bush would have a third term. My heart sped up as my palms grew damp.
“What is it?” I asked, looking left and right at my parents sitting on the couch.
My normally shy mother could not meet my eyes. Her head was tilted towards her lap and she was fumbling with her wedding ring, twisting it around on her finger.
“Your mother and I have something to tell you.” my father said. His voice was calm, but faltering.
“What is it, dad?” I blurted out, wanting to shorten the suspense.
“Well… I guess there’s no easy way to say it, so I may as well just come out with it,” he said, then paused for another agonizing few seconds “you’re adopted, Nick.”
I could feel the blood drain from my face. There was a tingling sensation in my chest that spread throughout my entire torso. My eyes narrowed. I had heard the words and understood what they meant, but could not believe them. For nineteen years Richard and Elaine Cooper were my parents. I was more sure of that than anything else I knew or believed. Now I was being told that the one thing I had been lead to believe was an undeniable fact was actually a lie. I felt numb.
“What? No! Mom, how can this be?” I demanded. My mother raised her wet eyes for a moment, then lowered them again, sobbing.
“I know we should have told you this long ago. I’m sorry. Your mother and I struggled with it for years — when to tell you, what to say. Eventually as you grew older we decided it was just easier to never tell you. We love you unconditionally, with all our hearts, Nick, and we didn’t want to have to hurt you by giving you this news after all these years.”
Once my numbness passed it was replaced by anger. I felt betrayed. Now everything I held sacred was called into question. I felt my hands form into fists as my jaw clenched.
“Then why are you telling me now, Richard?” I seethed.
I saw my father wince at the sound of his first name coldly coming from my mouth. Never before had I referred to him as anything but ‘dad’. He leaned back on the couch, either to think of what to tell me, or to fight his own anger; I couldn’t tell.
“We’re telling you this now because circumstances have changed and it’s necessary to.” My father’s voice was firm and each word came from his mouth with authority.
I didn’t understand what he meant. He sounded cryptic. “What the hell does that mean?” I demanded.
“Because your birth mother has decided that she wants to be a part of your life.” he elaborated.
“Well, she’s nineteen years too late.” I replied with a glare.
“Nick, I can understand how you feel. This news must be…”
“No! No you don’t understand, Richard. Were you adopted? Did your parents lie to you for nineteen years?”
“I can see that you’re upset, Nick. Maybe we should finish this discussion later, after you’ve had some time to digest it all.” my father suggested.
“Yeah… how about in another nineteen years?” I retorted.
I was mad with anger and confusion. I recall jumping from my chair and storming out of the house. The sound of the door slamming shut behind me echoed down the street. I ran down the driveway, fighting tears. I had no plan. I didn’t know where I was going. I just needed to get away; as far as I could. I walked for hours. Thinking. Questioning. Wondering. Eventually it grew cold and I decided to call a friend, Dave, to ask him if I could crash at his place. I explained that I’d had a fight with my parents, but never disclosed the details. Thankfully Dave agreed and I hurried across town. I stayed there for two days, smoking dope and listening to music — trying to forget everything.
On the evening of my second day at Dave’s place I realized that I had to make a decision. I could not stay there forever, and the longer I did, the harder it would be to return home. After thanking Dave and his parents for their hospitality I slunk back home, fearful of what sort of reception I would receive.
When my mother heard the door close she dashed out to the kitchen. I had never seen her smile at me like she did at that moment when she saw me standing there.
“There’s some lasagna in the fridge if you’re hungry.” she told me in a shaky voice. Her lower lip was trembling.
“Thanks.” I replied.
My mother watched me for a while as I looked in the fridge. She seemed in awe, as if I had been brought back from the dead. After watching me for a while she returned istanbul escort to the living room where my father was, watching tv.
I put a square of lasagna on a plate, not bothering to heat it in the microwave, and poured a glass of Pepsi. I brought the food up to my room, hoping to avoid my parents.
For the rest of the evening I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I expected my bedroom door to open and my parents to walk in, wanting to continue the aborted discussion from a few nights previous. That never happened. I guess it was enough for them that I was home and safe and they did not want to raise the issue until I was ready.
The next night after I got home from school I joined my parents for supper. The tension was palpable. We all stared at our plates, afraid to speak. Finally my mother reached out and squeezed my hand. She smiled at me like only a mother can.
“It’s wonderful to have you home again, honey.” she said, then wiped her hand over her left eye.
“Thanks, mom,” I said “it’s great to be back.”
Even my normally stoic father seemed moved. He reached over and gave my shoulder a firm squeeze as he smiled. “We love you, Nick. I hope you know that.”
“I know,” I replied “I love you too, dad; you too, mom.”
It seemed that as quickly as our family had been torn apart, it was back together once more — although we all knew that things had forever changed.
“So, I guess we have more to talk about.” I ventured, giving my father a nervous glance.
“Whenever you’re ready.” he told me.
“How about after dessert?” I suggested with a grin, hoping to add some levity to the situation.
“Fine.” he agreed, seeming happy.
I was not looking forward to continuing the adoption conversation any more than my parents probably were, but I knew it had to happen. Putting it off any longer would not make it any easier.
Once supper was finished we all went into the living room, looking dour and walking single file. My parents sat on the couch like bookends. I planted myself in a chair across from them. For a while we just stared at one-another, each of us waiting for the other to speak. Finally my father spoke up.
“I don’t exactly know where to begin,” he said “do you have any questions, Nick?”
I had many questions, but one was overwhelming. “Who are my real parents? I mean, my biological parents…”
I was afraid my original phrasing might have offended my parents because that’s what they were: my parents. They were the ones who had raised and nurtured me and that’s what being a parent really is. It’s more than simply depositing sperm or releasing an egg.
I think that my father had not expected such a pointed question from me to begin the conversation. He flinched. “Shall I just come out and tell you?” he asked.
“Yes. Please.” I insisted.
My father sighed. “Well, your biological mother is your Aunt Jenny. You’ll have to ask her about your father.”
I had thought that after the initial news that I was adopted that there could be nothing else to shock or render me momentarily numb again. I was wrong.
My Aunt Jenny was my father’s youngest sister. I had not seen her in almost a year. After she got married she moved to New Jersey with her husband, Robert. Before that, she lived closer and visited often. She and I always got along great. When I was a child she spent hours playing with me and watching cartoons, then as I got older she gave me advice when needed and was my confidant at times. We had a good relationship and I often thought of her as my second mother. Once Jenny moved to Jersey infrequent phone calls were the only contact my parents and I had with her. But she always wanted to talk with me when she called, and would sometimes call back if I was not home. Every Christmas and birthday that I had a parcel arrived in the mail from her containing a gift for me. Now it made sense to me. It was almost like I subconsciously suspected something all those years.
“Aunt Jenny?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes,” my father confirmed “she had you when she was sixteen. She was just too young and immature to raise a child on her own, so after we all discussed it with your grandparents it was decided that Elaine and I would adopt you. We were getting married that summer, so it was perfect. That way, you were being raised by family members and Jenny could be a part of your life.”
Although it seemed strange to me at the time, I was grateful for the way things had worked out. If I had have been placed with an adoption agency I probably might have never met either of my biological parents, let alone any other family members. I still had questions though and I guess my father could tell that from the pensive look on my face.
“You’re probably wondering why we’ve decided to tell you now, after avoiding it for so many years.” he said, anticipating my next question.
“I was about to ask that.”
“Jenny is divorcing Robert and she’s moving back here in two weeks,” he began “she’s hoping that rus escort you two can get to know one-another on a different level. She’s tired of the lies and deceit and we agree with her. We should have told you years ago, Nick. I hope you can forgive us. But, Jenny realizes that this may not be something that you want — not right now, or not ever. She’s prepared for you to be angry, or to hate her, or whatever. She realizes that you might not want anything to do with her because of this. But the choice is entirely yours, Nick. Take all the time you need to think it over. Whatever you want, or don’t want; it’s entirely up to you.”
Once again my father had dumped a lot of information in my lap, but there was one thing that I instantly knew: I could not hate my aunt, or whatever she was to me now. Nor could I blame her for how things turned out. She did what she had to, and what she felt was best for me. It had worked out wonderfully in the end, so there was no way I could be angry with her. She had given me to loving parents who had done an exemplary job of raising me.
“No…” I blurted out
“No what?” my father interrupted before I could continue. He looked anxious.
“No, I could never hate Aunt Jenny,” I explained “I can’t imagine having a kid at my age, let alone sixteen. She did the right thing. Probably the only thing she could do.”
I could tell my the expressions on my parents’ faces that they were relieved. I realized that although they did not want to pressure me into my decision, I had made the one that they had hoped for.
“It’s such a relief to hear you say that.” my father said.
“We prayed that you’d feel this way, honey.” my mother added.
My parents said nothing more, letting me assimilate what they had already told me.
“So, now what?” I asked, then thought my question was too blunt.
“Jenny will be here on the twenty-first and she’ll be staying with us for a while until she finds an apartment. You two will have a lot to discuss, so we’ll make sure you have time alone to talk. But she said to tell you if you want to talk about it before then to call her anytime.”
“Okay,” I said, pausing “I think I’ll wait till she gets here. It will be easier in-person than on the phone.”
“Okay, whatever you want.”
My decision was also based on me wanting the next two weeks to sort out my feelings. I had to get used to the notion that the woman whom I had always thought was my aunt was in fact my mother — although I never told my parents that.
In the days preceding Jenny’s visit I spent a lot of time thinking. Probably too much. I tried to imagine how my relationship with her would be now that I knew she was my mother. Ultimately decided it was best to not have any preconceived ideas, but to just let things fall into place.
I recalled the last time Jenny had visited us and the fun we all had. It seemed like she was always laughing and full of energy. I did not know anyone who was always so full of life as her. Something else I noticed was how pretty Jenny was. She had long sandy blond hair and brown eyes, like me. She was shorter than dad and me — about 5’5, I suppose. But what I noticed most was how she filled out whatever clothes she wore. She was slim, but still had plenty of curves rounding out her svelte body. During her visit I spent a good amount of time with my eyes glued to her chest, watching her breasts jiggle beneath her top, or staring at her firm ass and curvy hips as she walked. Most nights I ended up stroking my cock as images of how Jenny had looked that day flashed through my perverted mind.
One particular incident that stoked my libido for many months to come (so to speak) was standing over her one evening as she helped my mother clear the dining room table. She was wearing a olive-colored blouse and as she bent over I caught sight of her right breast inside her blouse. It hung down and swayed, barely contained in a white bra. When I finally managed to move my eyes from her round breast I discovered that she was looking me square in the face. She had an impish smile, which matched her personality. I froze, terrified that I was in trouble, but all she did was wink, then walk away.
As I reminisced about Jenny’s last visit and the lusty thoughts that being around her had stirred up in me I felt weird. Guilty, I guess, or ashamed. It was ironic because I knew I should have felt that way back then for being turned-on by my aunt and masturbating to thoughts of her, but now that I knew that she was actually my mother that somehow changed things. It was at that moment that I began wrestling with my feelings. I already had enough to reconcile, but somehow this now took precedent. Maybe because I feared it could destroy what I felt was an already tenuous relationship. What made it more vexing was that my cock and my conscience were in opposition. Once I stopped thinking for a moment the image of Jenny’s breast appeared in my mind. My cock twitched and began to rise.
Chapter 4 şişli escort
The day that Jenny was due to arrive I was up before my parents for the first time since Christmas mornings when I was a child. I was nervous, but I reckoned that she probably was as well. Although she had visited other times, this time was especially important. I wanted to make sure that everything went well, if not perfect. I had decided to skip school that day. My father had to work, but he promised us that if he could sneak out early he would. After I showered and shaved I spent an unusual amount of time picking out a shirt to wear with my jeans, then went down to have breakfast. It was not long before I was joined by my parents.
“Nervous?” my mother asked.
“Yes.” I admitted as I munched on a mouthful of cereal.
“So am I. But try not to feel that way, honey. Jenny’s not a stranger.”
My mother’s advice helped to calm me some.
“I should be going to the office, but tell Jenny that I’ll try to take off early.” my father told us.
For the rest of the morning my mother kept busy by making sure the house was tidy, then rested on the couch, reading. I went up to my room to do some homework for school. It was close to two o’clock when I heard a car in the yard. When I looked out of my bedroom window to the yard I saw Jenny’s black Jetta towing a U-Haul trailer. I ran down the stairs.
“It’s so good to see you again.” I heard my mother exclaim as she hugged Jenny.
I kept my distance for a little while. I felt awkward and nervous. When Jenny turned towards me and smiled I sensed that she felt the same.
“How are you, Nick?” Jenny’s voice was strained and her smile forced.
“Good, and you?”
“I’m doing okay,” she replied “it’s good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you too; it’s been a long time.” I told her.
“Too long.” she remarked.
I looked over to my mother. She seemed uncomfortable as she listened to our stilted exchange.
“Nick, could you go get Jenny’s bags from the car?” my mother asked, seeming to want a diversion.
“Sure.” I too was glad for a diversion and went out to the yard immediately.
In the back seat of the Jetta were two suitcases, which I brought inside.
“Jenny went up to use the bathroom,” my mother told me “just bring the bags up and put them by the bed.”
After I dropped the heavy suitcases beside the bed in the guest room I heard the toilet flush. I turned to see Jenny enter the room. It was the first time since she arrived that I had been able to take a good look at her. Immediately I was forced to fight off lewd thoughts.
Jenny was wearing a knee-length tan-colored pleated skirt and a white blouse with buttons down the front that just barely covered her stomach. I guessed that if she were to raise her arms a good portion of her midriff would be exposed. She stood a few feet inside the room, looking as nervous as I was.
“So, I guess your folks broke the news to you… finally.” she said in a weak voice.
“Yeah. About a few weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry we waited so long, Nick.”
“Better late than never.” I reasoned, trying to cut the tension.
Jenny forced out a chuckle. “I guess you probably have lots of questions then.”
“Some, but not a lot really. They told me most of the details.” I told her.
“Thank-you, Nick. Thank-you for still wanting me in your life. This is the greatest gift that anyone could ever give me.” Jenny lowered her head, as if she was afraid to look at me.
“You don’t have to thank me, Aunt Jenny.”
Jenny looked up and I noticed tears running from her oak-colored eyes, down her soft cheeks. She brushed them away. “I guess it’s silly for you to call me ‘Aunt Jenny’ anymore; ‘Jenny’ will do. It’s not like I deserve to be called ‘mom’. I’ve never been a mother to you, or anyone.”
Jenny wrapped her arms tightly around her waist, as if she was trying to hold in her tears and anguish. She slumped back against the bedroom wall. Her body shook as she cried, gasping for air between sobs. Suddenly whatever angst I had felt regarding this whole situation seemed trivial.
I wondered what to do or say as I watched Jenny. Her cheeks were wet with her tears and her body quaked as she cried. I knew that perhaps there was really nothing I could do to alleviate the guilt and torment she must have felt for nineteen years. All I could do to try to comfort her was hold her, so that’s what I did. I put my hands on her slender shoulders and eased her towards me. Her limp body rested against mine. I slipped my arms around her, holding her as she trembled, trying to quell her sobs. Eventually she unwrapped her arms from her waist and put them around me. Her tears were beginning to wet my shirt as she leaned her head on my chest.
“I’m so sorry, Nick. I don’t know why you don’t hate me,” she sputtered “I just wish there was something I could do to make everything alright.”
“You already have,” I told her “you made the right decision when I was born; never question it.”
Jenny slowly raised her head to look at me. Her bottom lip trembled and her cheeks were covered with rivers of tears. She smiled at me in a way she never had before. I had only ever seen my mother smile at me like that.
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