The guilt lay like a rock in my heart; lump in her throat. I thought that I was man enough to try to deny my sins and forget it to go on with the daily affairs of life. But that hasn’t been the case. I tried to rationalize my behavior; placing part of the blame on others to make me feel less guilty. I often wonder why we engage in guilty pleasures knowing that guilt is a demon. It is an awful, horrible sensation that eats away at your mind, consuming you if you let it, eventually, leaves you emotionally drained. For several years now, I have been fighting not to let the guilt tear me apart and learn to cherish nothing but pleasurable memories. While I longing to tell my story, I resolved to squirrel away my remorse hoping that you would see it in a different context because even I sometimes feel pleasure outweighs the guilt.
I’ve been blind-sided by remorse on many favorable and supposedly pleasurable occasion. I am not a pundit to analyze those feeling or to tell the difference between one and another – at least in one occasion that I am going to tell you.
I grew up in a somewhat normal family, but around the time when the incident that led to my unforgettable memories, my father was away on a UN peace keeping mission. I was a normal guy, despite being underdeveloped for my then age 18. I wish that I can boast being six feet tall, lean and handsome, but the truth was far from it. I must have inherited my maternal grandfather’s genes instead of from dad’s side to be barely 5’6″ with boyish looks. My friends, peers, and girls that I knew accepted me as a nice guy or cool guy, but that wasn’t enough to me to be a chick magnet or at least good enough to attract a single girl to go on a date. I often wondered what it would be like to get a hand job, blow job, stick my cock in a girl’s wet pussy and so on as imagination new no bounds. But the truth of the matter was that I was desperate to try anything with a woman.
It all started when I came down with the stomach flu. I missed three days of school due diarrhea and vomiting but fortunately got over with it without other complications. One morning I found mom complaining about diarrhea and stomach cramps etc. that I had experienced just a couple of days earlier. Mom got dressed to go to work saying that she could somehow manage but was forced to change her mind when she vomited few times just after her morning coffee.
That afternoon, I remember coming home from school to find mom in the family room, lounged on the couch sideways facing the TV. She had a trash can near and from the first glance at her; I knew there was something really wrong with her. She looked up to meet my eyes as I entered the living room, then immediately sat bringing the trash can to her face, then started vomiting. I watched in dismay as she kept at it. Then she knelt on the floor with her face down to the trash can gagging. Her jaw went slack and a trickle of drool traces slowly down one side of her chin. Her eyes looked completely dead before rolling back as she crumples to the floor in a fit of violent retching and gagging.
I dropped my backpack to the floor and rushed to help her. Mom looked groggy and disordered, but I managed to bring her to her feet and help her get to the bed before calling the next door neighbor Mrs. Nicholas for help, fearing that mom needs instant care, Mrs. Nicolas immediately took her to the urgent care at the nearby hospital.
Hours later when they returned, Mrs. Nicolas told me that mom had caught the same stomach flu that I had, which without a doubt I knew. The doctor had prescribed her an antibiotic, medicine to stop throwing up and an over the counter flu medication. She further advised me to feed her broth, crackers, and other non-dairy drinks for a day or two till she became better. Mrs. Nicholas stayed until about 9 pm making sure all was well around the house before she left giving me instructions to look after mom.
“I’ll be back around 11.00 tomorrow after the meeting at my church. You take good care of your mother.” she said as she left.
Bowl of chicken broth that I gave her took a long time to finish; mom appeared as she regained some of her strength after having some broth and medications. I helped her to the bathroom and then she was able to shower without any assistance. So I left her in her room to rest and went to watch TV for a while before taking a shower myself and getting ready for bed. Then thinking about mom, I went to her room to check on her before hitting the sack myself, upon entering her room; it became apparent that her condition had worsened within the short period since I last tended to her. I found her in bed covered with a blanket, yet shivering as a fish out of the water. She complained about stomach cramps and being very cold. She whine, sob in discomfort turning side to side holding the blanket with her hands as she turned. I knew it was too late to call Mrs. Nicolas, but I had no other option since I didn’t have a clue as to what action that I should take.
I dialed Mrs. Nicolas hesitantly and explained mom’s condition to her. After listening carefully, she asked me to take mom’s temperature and call her back.
After monitoring mom’s body temperature, I called Mrs. Nicolas to report that the reading was nearly 102. She instructed me to remove all covers and blankets from mom and give her the flu medication along with much Seven-Up as she could drink. She asked that I take her temperature again in an hour and call her if it hadn’t dropped. I followed her instructions and gave mom her flue medication with Seven-up that she drank holding the glass with her shaky hands.
“Mom, Mrs. Nicolas asked me to take blankets and comforters away till your fever drops down.” I said taking covers off her bed.
“You look tied and sleepy. You can go to bed, I will be ok.” Mom murmured finishing a sip of liquids. I noticed in her eyes that she was still disoriented by the way her eyes hovered all over the room.
“I am not sleepy anymore mom, why don’t you rest, I’ll stay near your room, just in case if you need me.” I said not wanting to leave her alone when she was severely ill. Besides, I could think of many occasions that she stood by me when I was sick and tending to her was a tiny return for all that she had done for me.
“If you want, but I am better now. I should take a short nap before I getting ready for work.” She insisted and then said “Or you can lay here with me and try to get some sleep, you poor thing” It quickly struck me what Mrs. Nicolas said about high fever and being disoriented when mom mentioned of getting ready for work.
I was hesitated for a moment looking at mom’s eyes to see if she was serious. I hadn’t slept with mom as long as I could remember and wasn’t even sure if it was a good idea start now.
“Here, come and stay with me.” Mom said and slowly moved to the other end slowly, making room for me to lie. Undecidedly, I first sat, and then lied on my back without bothering to look at her. Mom turned to her side trying to get some rest that she badly needed. Few minutes later, I heard her mumbling and then she grumbled about being very cold.
“Hold me please, I am cold…” She begged. How could a son turn down such a request from his loving mom? I rolled towards her and onto her side placing my arm loosely over her waist. Mom mumbled, kept trying to adjust her position to be comfortable and her warm body pressing closer to mine. When she finally settled, I wondered if she realized that her buttocks were firmly pressed against my pajama shorts covered crotch. It made me uneasy, but the sensation of having her soft body against mine felt great and therefore I remained calm hoping to comfort my loving mom.
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