I had been waiting for this day for two long years. Today Ryan was coming home, and I wanted to look my total best. He’d been gone for two years, most of that time spent in school, he had applied and been accepted into Oxford, the famed University in England. And because of the rigors of his study and the cost of returning home being rather cost prohibitive, we had not seen each other for those two long years.
We had corresponded regularly by e-mail and Skyped occasionally, but I missed my baby boy so much… But the distance between us lessened when he wrote in his emails his feelings for me. He never failed to tell me how much he loved me and missed me, and even though he liked what he was doing, he couldn’t wait to get back home and see me again.
He often said things like, “I miss you with all of my heart,” and, “I think about you all the time.” He called me “sweetheart” and “beautiful,” and said that he had proudly displayed a framed picture of me in his dorm room.
Once, according to an email I’d received just two months before he came home, some guy named Richard had asked for my “digits”, so he could look me up next time he was stateside. Ryan had responded, “She’s all mine!” I thought it an odd twist of phrase, but chalked it up to him defending his mother’s honor.
“After that,” Ryan wrote me, “everybody started referring to you as ‘my girl’.”
We talked of our longing to see each other again. It became pretty mushy in the final days before he started home. I began thinking of those final messages and my feelings for my son; “Silly,” I told myself as I finally settled on a pair of jeans and a tank-top, pulling them off their hangers and onto my body. “Silly and romantic.”
I closed the closet door and looked at myself in my full length mirror. I wasn’t a raving beauty, but at forty years old I could admit that I was pretty. I had shoulder length brown hair that I wore in a ponytail, and large brown eyes, and a fair complexion. I had a decent body too, slim and curvy where it matters, although if I had my way I’d be a couple pounds lighter. All in all, I supposed I wasn’t too hard to look at. I found myself hoping Ryan would think so too.
I inspected myself in the mirror again, checking the fit. The clothes were a little snug, accentuating every curve and contour, but they didn’t make me look fat anywhere. Next I put on my shoes.
I decided to take off my bra and when I checked the look once more I liked what I saw. I have nice boobs, full and round and firm, not a bit of sag, but still, I wasn’t sure if I should be walking around showing them off so much. A lady was supposed to be modest. And it wasn’t exactly appropriate to be showing them off to Ryan like that. But then again, I told myself as I studied my boobs in the mirror, if I was totally honest I had to admit that it excited me to show them off to Ryan.
“More silliness,” I said to my reflection. I put the bra back on , rechecked my face and my hair, made sure everything was okay, then turned and left my bedroom, on my way to welcome my darling son home from school.
The trip to the airport wasn’t too bad, since it was a weekend and there wasn’t much traffic. My husband drove, and I let my mind wander, and of course it wandered right to Ryan. I sat and watched out of the window, dreaming of how Ryan might have changed. I imagined what our reunion at the airport would be like: I began to resent My husband being there to interfere with our reacquainting.
I began to imagine that I would see him first as he came off the plane, I imagined that I ran to him, at which point he would see me and get a smile on his face. He would hold his arms out wide and I would run into them. He would hug me fiercely, squeezing all the air out of me as he kissed me, right on the mouth. Then he would swing me around in his arms, gently land me on my feet, then let go of me a little so he could get a good look at me. He would say, “Mom, you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”
Of course, I knew it was a little over the top, it was way too romantic, too intimate. Ryan would never greet me that way, and even if he would, my husband would flip! But how would I react? Would I really want Ryan to hug me and kiss me that way? Probably not, I told myself. In reality, I would have a coronary too. But it was nice to think about.
As we got closer to the airport my mind pushed the fantasy a little deeper… After saying that I was more beautiful than he remembered, Ryan would kiss me again, and slowly slide his hands up and down my back. I would feel his tongue against my lips and I would open my mouth, take it in, and gently suck on it. And Rob, my husband, instead of suddenly dying, would be standing there watching us and smiling, proud of how easy it was for our son to demonstrate his love for his mother.
Ryan would french-kiss me and caress me for a minute, then reluctantly break the kiss and whisper in my ear, “I can’t wait to get you alone,” and I would smile shyly, knowing what he meant. Then he would embrace me again, hold me close to his strong hard body, and I would feel his erection pressing against me…
“That’s enough of that,” I told myself. I picked up my cell phone and shut out the fantasy as I forced myself to change my thoughts.
We finally got to the airport and parked near the terminal. “Only six more minutes,” I told Rob, barely able to restrain my anticipation. I actually bounced up and down on my toes.
Rob just stared at me for a moment before he sat down in blue plastic chairs bolted to the
Rob patted the one next to him and said, “Sit down, dear.”
“I can’t,” I said. “I’m too excited.”
I started wandering around the waiting area, crossing and uncrossing my arms, or moving them up and down like big slow wings. I stopped doing that, though, when I accidentally hit a guy in the side of the head. He looked at me like I was a total asshole and I apologized, then he let his eyes rove down to my boobs and he half smiled and said, “That’s okay, dear.” The guy was my dad’s age and obviously a perv, but I didn’t care. I was too excited.
I wandered around for another few moments, dodging and weaving around all the other people waiting for their own loved ones or friends or whatever, then sat down next to Rob. He put his arm around me and leaned toward me, apparently to say something into my ear, but suddenly I heard a huge noise coming from outside and I looked and there was his plane.
It was moving slowly toward the window, it’s round nose pointed straight at me, and it was so close I could see the pilot and co-pilot in the cockpit. I jumped up, accidentally bumping Rob with my shoulder, and squealed.”He’s here!” I said way too loud. Once again I couldn’t resist bouncing up and down on my toes, and suddenly there was a group of guys watching my boobs bouncing up and down. I didn’t care, though, My baby was home!
Rob stood up too and we, along with a crush of other people, moved over to the door Ryan would be coming through. My heart was beating hard in my chest as I wrung my hands, suddenly feeling silly now for the way I’d been acting. Sure, it was okay to be excited, but Ryan was my son, not my lover. Besides, I was twenty years older than Ryan, a mature woman, and it wouldn’t do to have him see me acting like a child. So I took a few deep breaths, calmed myself down, and waited as maturely as I could.