"It's my mother," he explained. Frustrated, he answered, sounding more than a little tense. "Hello, Mom."
"I've interrupted. I'm so sorry. I do have to tell you something, before you take that lovely girl to bed for the first time."
Exhaling slowly, Elam closed his eyes, waiting. How did his mother always seem to know when he was going to be bad? How could she always sense that he was interested in a new woman? It was spooky, the way she had of reading his mind. Not that she normally intruded, she just always knew.
"What makes you think that?"
"Because of your tone, for one thing. For another, the vibrations I'm receiving are really quite alarming. You can't do this right now, Son."
"Mom!" His voice cracked like a teenager's. Turning red with embarrassment and frustration, he clamped his lips together.
Her laugh burbled forth like water over bells. His mother had the most musical laugh of anyone he knew. "Sunshine, you know I'd never intrude in your sex life—which has been sadly dry for some time," she scolded. "If I'm to be a grandmother before I'm sixty, you'd best get in gear."
"Mom, this really isn't the time."
"On the contrary, it's exactly the time, so put me on speaker, wipe the butter off your chest, and let me tell you why I called."
He didn't question how she knew about the butter, the shirt, or the woman. Reluctantly, he did as he was told. Elam knew from experience, if he tried to put his mother off, she'd pester him until she got what she wanted. Since she didn't do this often, he knew it must be important. He put the phone on the counter, pressing the speaker button.
"Mom, this is Blythe...."
"I know," his mother said with a smile in her voice. "We haven't chatted in a long time, darling. They've come back, haven't they." There was sorrow in her voice.
"I'm sorry? What have come back?" Blythe asked, but she knew.
"The dreams, dear one. But they're worse this time."
"Katrinka?"
"Yes, my dear. How lovely to hear your voice, all grown up."
Elam stared at her, his jaw dropping open. "You know my mother? How?"
"When I was a girl, I had nightmares—hellish ones, horrifying. My parents tried everything. Eventually, they found your mother, and she helped me."
"Something strange and amazing has happened, traumatic, but interesting," Katrinka said. "Before this relationship can continue, you must resolve this issue. My son can make you very happy, Blythe."
His blue eyes met her dark brown ones.
"I have no doubt of that."
"You feel drawn to one another. It's like that with soul mates. But you must put the dead to rest before you can be truly happy. They want to rest, Blythe. They need their release. You can give them that."
"How?"
"You'll come see me tomorrow. Elam may come too, if he likes. But he's not essential to the process."
"All right. I will try anything to get these dreams out of my head. And I want to help Malachi."
"Then come see me tomorrow. The vibrations will be strongest around nine. Come a little before that and don't eat or drink anything."
"We'll be there, Mom. I don't have to work tomorrow."
"Excellent. Now, good night kisses, cuddle up in that cozy bed. And, Son?"
"Yes, ma'am?" Elam closed his eyes, knowing what was coming.
"Keep it in your pants."
He groaned, wanting to bang his head on the table. He was mortified that she would talk to him like that, but it gave him the perfect cock block. His mother would know if he broke his promise. She would only put a squash on his sex life, if it would put Blythe in jeopardy.
"I promise, Mom."
"Good. I raised a proper gent. Good night, Blythe, dear."
"Good night, Mrs. Armitage."
"Katrinka, please. Or Katie, as you wish."
She hung up, leaving them staring at one another.
"That was the weirdest conversation I've ever had with my mother," Elam said. "And I've had some strange ones. The sex lesson among the top five."
"I would have thought that was number one."
Elam shook his head, pursing his lips. "No." He wouldn't say anything more. Instead, he went to the bathroom and washed the butter off his chest. He put his shirt on when his skin was still slightly damp. When he came back, the soft, gray T-shirt clung to his body, emphasizing his lean musculature. Blythe took the time to wash her hands and finish fixing the popcorn. She carried it to the living room where the DVD player waited.
"What movie did you choose?"
"You'll probably hate it." She handed him the box.
"I happen to totally love this movie. I think it's excellent."
©2022 Dellani Oakes
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