Mother's Day Gift

All characters are above the age of 18 unless otherwise specified.

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"Mother son bonding time."

Four words. Four words that changed my life.

***

"WAKE UP!"

My head shot off the pillow.

"GRAB A BRUSH AND PUT A LITTLE MAKEUP!"

I yanked the headphone buds out of my ears and the music faded.

"Holy fuck," I muttered, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I grabbed my phone and turned off the extremely effective alarm.

6:30 am. I had no clue how anybody could get up this early on a Sunday.

As a high school senior, I still had to wake up early for the weekly grind I had been doing for 15 years. Saturdays and Sundays were meant for sleeping in, and I liked to take full advantage of that. Thank God I only had another month and a half until graduation.

Today was special though. I had to get up early. It was Mother's Day.

On Mother's Day, I had two options. The first: buy some expensive gift. That's what my older brother did. But he already had a job. I had worked as a counselor for a summer camp last year making 7 bucks an hour; I couldn't exactly afford to go springing for Chanel.

The second: breakfast in bed. Traditional, effective, and the best friend of any young kid on Mother's Day. I had been doing it for about ten years now, and this year wouldn't be any different. I just hated how fucking early my parents got up.

I stretched and got up out of bed. I preferred to sleep in boxers in the summer to ward off the heat, and I threw on a t-shirt and gym shorts that were lying on my bedroom floor. I probably needed to clean my room.

Grogginess still clouded my eyes, but I made my way down to the kitchen, trying to be stealthy. I put on a pot of coffee, threw some whole-wheat toast in the toaster, and turned on a burner.

My culinary skills were... specialized, but I knew how to make ham and eggs. So that's what I did.

By this point, I had become a bit of a pro at this particular meal. I went through the motions, slathering butter on the toast and pouring the contents of the plastic fruit salad container into a nice bowl.

Somebody stirred upstairs, and I heard a toilet flush. Probably my dad. He usually was the first one to rise.

It took another few minutes for the very basic omelette to be finished. I slid it onto a plate, trying to keep it intact. I put the fruit, toast, and omelette on a bigger tray so Mom could eat in bed.

Normally I'd finish it off with orange juice (don't ask me why she always wanted both juice and coffee), but Mom had been on a health kick recently. She had wanted to get back the athletic body she used to be so proud of, and had been working out a lot recently. It seemed to be working too, she had lost quite a bit of weight and looked much more attractive now. Not that I really paid attention to that sort of thing.

So now I fished out the kale smoothie mixture and poured the green sludge in a glass. I was baffled how anyone could get that shit down without throwing up, but clearly Mom liked it.

The tray looked great. My job was almost done. I walked back upstairs, making sure to keep the tray steady. I moved to my parents bedroom, and tried to knock on the door with my knee. I didn't realize it was slightly ajar, and the door swung fully open.

Apparently, it wasn't Dad who had gotten up.

Mom stood next to the bed, bent over at the waist. Her back was to me, and she was picking something up off the carpeted floor, a paperback book. She must have knocked it off the nightstand.

She was wearing only a small, red negligee. As she bent over, it had ridden up to her butt and was barely containing it. A small glimpse of her baby blue panties peeked out from underneath.

I quickly averted my eyes and cleared my throat loudly. Mom stood back up, placing the book on her nightstand.

"Oh, Andrew, you shouldn't have," she said as she looked at the tray of food I was holding. She said the same thing every year.

"I know, but it's your special day."

"Honey, you're the only gift I need."

A glitch in the Matrix; we had had this exchange multiple times before.

Mom moved to me, taking the tray from my hands and setting it on the foot of the king bed. Dad still lay asleep, his light snores permeating the still air.

I was brought into a warm embrace, one I had become very familiar with over my eighteen years of life. Of course, it had changed a lot in that span: her head now rested on my shoulder, instead of the other way around. I was a hair under six feet (much to the glee of my 6 foot and 1/8th inch brother), and Mom was slightly above average height for a woman, about 5'5". She definitely had a rather athletic build, but was still quite curvy in all the right places.

This embrace felt a little different too. She hugged me tighter, holding her body to mine.

"I love you Drew," she whispered.

"Love you too Mom," I replied.

"So I know you brought this all up here, but could we have a chat downstairs?" Mom pulled away, ending the hug. I hid my annoyance, not wanting to upset her. "Just the two of us?"

"Sure. Whatever you want."

"Great. I'm just gonna grab the coffee. Fewer things for you to spill."

She took the mug off the tray as I picked it up.

"Yup, and I know how you are without your coffee," I replied.

Mom moved out of her room, taking one last glance at the slumbering figure still in bed. I followed her back down to the kitchen.

"So I need to ask you for a favor," Mom began. She was seated at the kitchen table and had already started on her breakfast.

"What's up?" I asked. There were two days a year when I had to do unconditional favors (Dad always mercifully downplayed his birthday and Father's Day), and I'd be damned if I didn't try to be as accommodating as I could on.

"Well I know you're busy and all, and it's a weekend." I was pouring milk into my bowl of Cap'n Crunch, figuring I may as well get a head start on my breakfast too. "And you probably don't want to spend time with your old mom."

"Nonsense," I replied. "I am here for whatever you need today."

"Great, because I was hoping we could spend some time together this afternoon, just the two of us. Do you have any homework?"

"Nope, I'm free," I answered. My plans had been videogames, which I figured I could spare for a few hours to make my mother happy.

"Thank you."

"No problem whatsoever. What did you want to do?"

"It's a surprise," Mom answered with a mischievous look in her eyes.

Seeing Endgame, in all likelihood. She had been avoiding spoilers like the plague.

"Alright then, keep your secrets."

"I will. This afternoon is going to be so much fun! Mother son bonding time."

I sat down next to her at the table, already halfway through my bowl of cereal. Mom reached over and squeezed the outside of my thigh.

"Andrew, thank you for doing this for me."

"Of course," I responded. "That's what sons are for."

***

"Why are we pulling around this way?" I asked. I looked behind us at the theater and other big stores, shrinking in the rearview mirror.

"Just trust me Drew," Mom said.

If she wanted me to trust her blindly, I don't know why she wouldn't have just driven herself. But I was her chauffeur today, paying her back for 16 years.

We drove further down the massive parking lot, and neared the very end.

"I don't know where you want me to be going," I said.

"Make a left," Mom ordered.

I sighed and complied, a slave to her whims.

"Now pull into this spot on your right," she said after a minute. I swung the SUV into the spot, not worrying about how well I was parked. There were no other cars anywhere close to us.

"Why are we parked all the way out here? The theater's like a quarter mile away."

"I never said we were going to the movies," Mom replied. She undid her seatbelt, and I did the same.

"Well, still, what are we doing out here?" Beyond the edge of the parking lot there was nothing but a grassy field for a thousand or so feet before a major highway interrupted, running across. On either side of us were only empty parking spaces.

"I wanted to have a talk with you."

"Here?"

"Yes, here. Don't give me that attitude on my special day, Andrew," Mom playfully shot back. "I needed to talk to you alone. I've been wanting to do this for quite a while, but I haven't found the right time, or worked up the nerve."

"Okay..." I said, unsure of where she was going with this.

Mom paused for a minute, like she was trying to figure out what to say.

"Before I start, I need you to promise me something."

"Alright."

"Promise me that whatever I tell you, or whatever happens right now stays between us, okay? And just us, not your brother, or father, or anyone else."

"Okay, I promise," I said, a little halfheartedly.

"No, like you mean it. This is very important to me. If you really want to give me a special gift for Mother's Day, make me that promise."

"Aright, alright, I swear. Just us."

"Good. Now I need you to promise that you will keep an open mind for what I'm about to tell you. Just listen to it all, because it's a complicated story, and I really need you to understand it, okay?"

Mom was making me anxious. I had no idea what she was talking about.

"You promise that you'll keep an open mind and won't freak out? At least until I'm completely finished?"

"Yeah, of course," I tepidly responded.

"Good," Mom sighed. She took another deep breath. "Oh god, I don't know if I can do this."

"You can do anything," I reassured her. "What do you need?"

"Nothing. Nothing but you right now," Mom took another deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready.

"What I'm about to tell you, neither your brother or your father knows. Which is why it's so important that this just stays between us."

I nodded my head in understanding.

"Here goes. So I had both of you guys at a pretty young age. I don't think it was a mistake, I like to think I was a good parent to both of you guys, and I wouldn't have ever traded either of you for a few more years in my 20's."

Mom and Dad told this story all the time: they met in sixth grade and were sweethearts from then on, getting married right after high-school. Mom had my older brother at 20, and me at 25. We knew she was young growing up; most of the other kids at school had older moms. But in some ways, that was nice. We had the young, cool, rockstar, badass Mom.

"Neither your father nor I wanted to have kids again after you two," she continued. "God knows you guys were enough to handle on your own, let alone a third little asshole running around."

Mom chuckled and I smiled, trying to break the tension that had risen in the stuffy car interior.

"But your father and I had an earnest discussion recently. Your brother is off on his own, engaged and with a job and living his own life. You're going to be in university in four months. And we're going to be all alone."

"You're not going to be alone. I already told you I'd call home every night," I interrupted. "And besides, I'm only three hours away."

"I know, I know, sweetie. But the house will be empty. And we're not about to become crazy cat people."

Dad was allergic to dogs; cats certainly didn't fit the mold for them either.

"So we talked with each other for a long time. I'm 43, and obviously not getting any younger. But both of us still feel young and I don't think we're ready to have an empty nest yet. Your father especially felt very strongly, and managed to convince me. Which is why we decided that we want to try and have another baby while we still can."

"Oh Mom, that's great news!" I said enthusiastically. I reached over the middle console and hugged her.

Truthfully, I wasn't sure how I felt. I would be away from home, so it's not like the baby would really affect me personally. But it would have pretty old parents, and no siblings anywhere close to the same age. Basically the exact opposite problems I had encountered.

But if Mom and Dad really felt like they wanted it, who was I to say that they shouldn't do it? Mom was already stay-at-home, so it's not like she'd have to give up work. We were financially stable enough, especially with my older brother beginning to support himself.

Suddenly I was actually getting excited. I had never been a big brother before, and it had been 18 years waiting. Maybe this could be great for us, for the whole family.

"Thank you Drew," Mom said. "But that's not all." She sniffled a little.

I ended the embrace, pulling back to look at her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it's not that simple. That's not the hard part, or the part I need your secrecy for."

"Well go on. What is it?"

"Okay, this is where you need to not freak out or anything. Which you promised. I need you to stay calm."

This was doing the opposite of making me stay calm. I was getting anxious.

"The problem is... that your father..." Mom paused, taking a deep breath. "He's infertile."

I stared right into Mom's eyes. Tears were welling up in the sides.

"I'm sorry, can you say that again?"

"Your father's not fertile," Mom repeated, almost choking on her words.

I turned away, sitting straight in my seat. My eyes tracked each speeding car on the distant highway.

I should have been upset. I should have been livid, and feeling betrayed.

But for some reason, I wasn't. I was calm. Maybe I was too shocked to be angry. But I didn't blow up, which I think is what Mom had been expecting.

"How?" I coolly asked.

"What do you mean?"

"How did you have us?" I clarified. I still stared straight ahead, channeling my focus into noticing the intricate details of each green Toyota or red BMW.

"Honestly, it was a mistake," Mom said. "Your father and I were deeply in love and he wanted to have a child after we got married. I was afraid we were too young, but we tried."

She choked back a sob and sniffled. I turned to look at her again. I was trying to remain as calm and level-headed as I could

"And we tried for a year. Nothing. I thought maybe it was a sign that we weren't ready, but I went and got myself tested anyway behind your father's back, because I thought I might be the problem and wanted to know. That's when I discovered that I was actually more fertile than normal, and your father was the infertile one."

"So how did you have us?" I repeated.

"As I said, it was a mistake. And if I could do it over again, I would have done it differently."

"So how did you have us?" I said again, more sharply his time.

"Well we were very poor then. He was in college, and even with your grandparents helping out, we didn't have anywhere near enough money for fertilization treatments or anything like that. And I didn't want your father to know. It was stupid and a terrible decision, but I thought... I don't know what I thought, but I guess I was afraid he'd be upset and feel less masculine, or maybe he wouldn't love me as much or be as committed if we didn't have kid... god, I don't fucking know."

Mom started welling up in tears again. I reached out and wiped one away from her cheek and she flashed a little smile back at me.

"So?"

"So I did something dumb." Mom sighed. "Very dumb. I explained everything to someone who was a very good friend of mine at the time. You wouldn't know him, but we were close. And I asked him to help."

"What do you mean, 'help'?" I asked. I knew what she meant, but I needed to hear her say it.

Mom took a deep breath, preparing herself to finally admit what she had been holding in. "I asked him to get me pregnant. And it worked, and your father never knew."

That seemed to be the breaking point for Mom. She burst into tears. I reached across and hugged her again, letting her cry on my shoulder.

My own feelings were bubbling up inside me. It felt like a fundamental part of me had just been flipped inside-out. I was angry and upset, but more than anything I was sad. It was clear that Mom had been carrying an immense emotional weight with her, and finally had let it out.

Could I really blame her? It was a dumb decision, and one that I really, really wished that she hadn't made. But she thought it was the best decision to make at the time, and was clearly understanding of why it was bad now.

And there wasn't anything I could do about it now. It didn't change anything really. Dad was still Dad. Mom was still Mom. My feelings and my love toward either of them hadn't changed. Everyone makes dumb mistakes when they're young. Mom's just happened to be one that stuck with her for a lot longer than most.

Mom let out her emotions, crying for a minute or two before she began to calm herself down. I ran a hand over her back, soothing her just as she had done to me so many times as a kid, afraid of the dark or upset that the Steelers lost the Superbowl or distraught that my first real crush in 8th grade didn't like me back.

"Do you hate me?" Mom timidly asked, lifting her head up to look at me.

"Of course not!" I indignantly responded. "Why would I hate you? You're the best mom I could have ever asked for, and this is never going to change that. This isn't going to change anything at all with your or Dad, okay?"

"Oh god, thank you Andrew!" she said, resting her face on my shoulder again. I could feel the tension beginning to melt away from her body. "I feel like a terrible mother."

"Don't say that. Because it's not true."

"Thanks," she said, pulling away from my hug. She wiped tears from the sides of her eyes.

"Did you have me the same way?" I asked.

Mom nodded.

"Same friend?"

The same motion again.

I let out a long breath. There was silence in the car for a few moments.

"Well, that's certainly not what I expected to learn today."

Mom chuckled, and the air suddenly seemed a little lighter.

"No, I can't imagine it was."

"I just have one question though," I said. "What's different this time? If you want to get pregnant again, are you going to tell Dad?"

Mom's eyes shifted down.

"Clearly not," I answered for her.

"I don't think I can," she said. "I didn't tell him when it happened, and I don't think it would be any good to tell him now."

"Then why tell me?" I asked. That was still bothering me. Why me specifically, and why couldn't I talk to anyone else about it?

"Well that brings us to the other reason that I wanted to talk with you... alone. I haven't talked with Gene, my old friend, in years, and I don't have any other close male friends."

"So are you going to use a sperm donor?"

"I mean, in a sense," Mom answered. "I need someone who I trust. Someone who wouldn't tell and would be discreet. Someone who I know extremely well. Someone who I love."

Love. That word set the gears turning in my head. The seclusion of the car, the secrecy I had been sworn to, the revelation. It was all making sense.

"I need you."

"Absolutely not," I flatly replied. "That's disgusting."

"Andrew, please-"

"I'm your son, I couldn't ever do that! It's morally wrong."

"Is it wrong to you though?" Mom asked. At the same time, she leaned over the center console a little. "Or are you only saying it's wrong because that's what you think you're supposed to believe?"

Something about that struck a chord within me. She always did have the perfect intuition. But no, this was so clearly immoral.

"No, it's because it's actually wrong! You're my mother, you've raised me for 18 years. You've been beside me at every turn, you've raised me-"

"Yes, all the more reason that I can trust you!"

"No, this would forever change our relationship," I rebutted.

"It wouldn't though. I'm asking you to do me a favor. I need you, Andrew. I need help. You want to be a good son; well, this is what I need you to do."

Again she was reading me perfectly. She knew how much I always wanted to be a good son, to gain her trust and love. It was clearly no coincidence that she was doing this on Mother's Day.