There had been a heat advisory that morning: the newscasters on channels five and eight had not explained but instead expounded and exhorted residents to not tarry too long outside, lest the heat stroke fairy, dressed all in vivid hallucination and thirst, visit them in their dazzling and hateful ways. Such faeries often visited the Great Basin and Mojave areas often in the summer time, and the town of Boulder City, barely registered mentally or even at all when inevitably compared to its neighbor Las Vegas, was no exception.
All the same, Jason had made the half mile trek from the bus stop to his apartment like he did every weekday- such was a necessity from the absence of a personal automobile, something he truly wished for at times. Still, he always brought his trusty water bottle with him (a companion since freshmen year d high school) so as to keep hydrated during his walk.
Soon enough, or so it seemed, he arrived at his own place, once again taking in the familiar sites of home- the unweeded rock garden yard so popular in hot climates, the occasional cigarette butt or broken Coors bottle from his unemployed neighbor's nightly ritual. The obscenely charged over grill that had never to his memory been used (or cleaned)except that one time by Mr. Anderson on the Fourth of July during elementary. His mother's own beat up Toyota, '94 model and held together what he expected was primarily dirt and prayer. And, to his delight, the clean blue sheen of his aunt's Jetta ('10 model). That boded well, he knew- his mother always seemed happier when her dear kid sister was around.
He smiled sadly to himself, shaking his head and the relaxing thought and remembrance. His mom. What an exceptional woman, he thought to himself as he dug in his pockets for an apartment key.
His mother, a young lass of thirty three, had always had a distinct lack of true happiness- not that she wasn't joyful or content (so it would seem), but there wasn't much happiness to her. Constantly exhausted from her job, she struggled daily to provide a good living for her son, her only one. Most of that time life had been good, and he, to his memory, had never gone to bed hungry, for which he was completely grateful- but there was always that nagging feeling that he had such comforts at the expense of his mother's body, mind, or life. She didn't go out, she didn't meet other people. Most of her life had been spent in maternal labor that overshadowed all else. What little happiness she did get came from family and, he flushed, his own successes- she was a selfless woman, never wrapped up in herself. Ever- even to the point of self-abnegation.
It shouldn't be that way, he thought to himself. It's not fair. She deserves more.
He turned the key and went into his apartment, the comforting scent of chicken and rice flooding his senses. He set the key on the table next to the door and dropped his book bag (containing only his day's notes and the remnants of lunch) to the ground, only to be suddenly assaulted from a bear hug and squeal of delight.
"Oh honey, my little man, Jason," a wet kiss was planted on his cheek, "welcome home, darling! How was the lab?"
"Hi mom," he droned, the only way a young man of eighteen could drone at his mother. "It was good. Doctor Brea says we made some pretty good progress this week. We might start final animal testing within the month, if the IRB approves it."
He felt a hand brush across his chin as his mother sauntered away from him, no doubt going to check the rice.
"That's great, dear. And do you think they will? The IRB people, I mean?"
Jason shrugged, but that wasn't apparent while he pulled off his shoes.
"I hope so. This new compound has been like three years in the making. I hope it doesn't get stopped by someone on the board- then again, dr. Brea is pretty well known- hopefully she'll get approval soon."
He heard a short chopping laugh from the kitchen table, one that even felt as though a smile was behind it.
"Compounds? IRB? Jeez, Jason. You've come a long way from your little kid's chemistry set when you were five, haven't you?"
Jason favored her with a little smile. His aunt, a fiery red headed personal trainer of twenty nine, grinned at him over from across the room. She set down her phone to look up at him.
"Hi, Aunty Clare. Good to see you.
Are you staying for dinner?"
"Of course! Wouldn't miss out on your mom's chicken and rice for anything. Besides," she said, taking a sip of water, "I need a break from this cleanse work is having me do. I just can't handle so much lettuce."
"Well, I guess we can skip on the salad then," Sarah, his mother, chuckled. "Jason, it's about done. Will you set the table please?"
During dinner, after his mother said grace, their conversation turned a bit more serious, if not a bit disappointing. Jason had been accepted into the Massachusetts Institute of Technology a few months ago, and so far the biggest hurdle was not in the amount or type of work he would be doing, but...
How would he pay for it? Clocking in at around fifty grand per semester plus room and board, it was no small feat to scrounge up the money for such education. No doubt the benefits would pay off in the long run, but the initial hurdle was the price tag. He simply didn't have the cash. He'd applied for maybe dozens of scholarships that would aid him, and had been awarded quite a few- but only enough to knock the price down to thirty five thousand. Still a fat chunk of change.
Their last hope had come in the form of the prestigious International Academy of Scientific Research and Progress- the awarded two grants per year to students that would cover the entirety of their collegiate expenses until graduation.
Full ride. Combine that with fifteen grand that he could leave home in the form of a new car... Or a fat down payment on a home for his mom...
Alas- it was not to be. He knew it from moment his mother had pulled out the very thin letter (top already torn off) and wearing a grin-but-bear-it look in her eyes. The news had come not as a huge blow, but instead a slow painful realization.
"Honey, I know..." She huffed, "I know you were hoping for this. But we're gonna get through this, okay?"
The conversation lulled then, making it abundantly clear that it may not have been the case. At least, that's how Jason saw it.
Dessert was an apple pie, made from scratch. He didn't taste much of it, however- his heart simply wasn't in it.
Jason had excused himself shortly after dishes had been hand washed- he gave the excuse that he wasn't feeling well (it was pretty hot during the day, after all), and wanted to turn in early. No one was fooled, however, not even himself- worry washed over him in the only way anxiety and uncertainty could, doubts creeping up and planting themselves in his mind.
He tinkered, if nothing else than to occupy his mind. He took apart, cleaned, dusted, checked, rechecked, and reassembled his old diode radio, each nut and bolt and wire meticulously labeled and sorted and handled in the most loving way. Each movement was planned, known. Comforting, like tying flies.
He had just finished remounting the radio chassis when he heard a sharp sob come through his door. He would know that cry anywhere- his mother.
On light footsteps he went over to the door, and, with years of practice that came with late night visits to their apartment's fridge, ever so quietly turned the door handle and cracked it open.
Siting at the table was his mother, her beautiful blonde mane draped over her head that rest on the table, softly jumping in desperate, quiet sobs. Watching vigilantly over her was Clare, a hand pressed on her back and her own beer in hand.
His heartstrings tugged. Jason suspected that it was no doubt related to his not getting the full ride, but...
His lip trembled.
This is bad, he thought.
His aunt took a draft of her drink, looking around the room in an attempt to find something to say. She made a wild gesture, then said, oddly incongruent,
"Sarah, it'll be okay. You've gotten through this kind of thing before- remember those car payments? The accident? It's fine."
She rubbed her sister's back, huffing slightly.
"Have you... Have you gone to Daryl? Have you asked him?"
Jason's heart skipped a beat at Clare's name dropping. Who was Daryl? Could... Could it be...?
"Yes," came the frustrated and muffled reply. "I went to him first and asked if we could make out a payment plan. My company's been good with that kind of thing, and Mr. Mathers has been there before."
Daryl. Daryl Mathers.
His mother's boss, that bald asshole he met at a holiday party once. Of course, how stupid. She hasn't mentioned his father in years, and even then only in passing comment of his eyes and hair. Sarah had never told Jason who his father was, or even his name. She would often get misty eyed when the subject did come up, but no more than that.
"And what did he say?" Clare inquired further, a hopeful tone in her voice, and apparently not picking up the context.
His mother lifted up her head and grimaced, like it was painful for her even to say it. However, what she did say might as well have been hard to say.
She swallowed and closed her eyes as she spoke.
"He said he would do it... But in return I'd have to do something for him. Something..."
She sobbed, setting a hand to her mouth.
"He said he'd want me to repay him on my knees. And Clare, I swear to God, I obviously refused; I was so sure that Jason would get that full ride. But now, knowing that he didn't?" She swallowed again. "Knowing he didn't... I can't afford loans either. I was thinking that maybe... Oh god... On Tuesday I could go in and talk to him again..."
Jason felt his stomach fill with ice, his heart wrench free from its calcium cage.
His mother would do that. For him?
The feelings of guilt and shame swirled around him, chilling him to the core and dizzying him. Suddenly it wasn't such a stretch to say he was ill. God, the thought of it. He couldn't decide if he was angrier or more embarrassed. Even then, the angry had complexity: at himself for not being a better student, at that swine boss of hers, and even at... Even at his saintly mother, for considering such a terrible act.
Fuck. FUCK!
He felt his fist clamp tightly on itself, the nails breaking skin.
How dare he. How dare she, even.
He was about to enter the room and yell when Clare did it for him.
"Wait Sarah, no! Hell no. Jesus Christ. Fuck no, you're not doing that. How could you even think that? That's... That's terrible."
She took another swig, as did Sarah, who only looked at her pleadingly.
"That's... That's gotta be against the law. Like, at work. He could get fired for that. Couldn't he?"
Sarah only shrugged.
"That's what happened to the last girl- the guy's been in the company for a long time; I doubt that my word would do anything. Not against him, anyway."
Clare sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, and propping her sandaled feet on the table.
"And I thought guys at my gym were pervs. Sarah, you can't do it. Come on, you haven't been that way since... Well, since you were fifteen. Don't throw that away."
"You think I want to? Come on, Clare." She sighed as well, pushing the near empty bottle on its rim around the table. Her lips pouted in a way that Jason found adorable, and maybe a little bit of something else. "But what else can I do? Loans aren't an option. Neither is going back to mom and dad out east."
He heard Clare chuckle and the imperceptible sound of an eye roll.
"Ha, no we cannot. I doubt they'd even talk to you- heck, they don't even talk to me."
Sara offered a short chortle, but not much else. The mood was somber, and not withstanding their mutual feelings on Jason's grandparents (he'd never even spoken to them), it remained so.
Finally Clare placed a hand over her sister's squeezing tightly.
"You're a smart girl, Sarah. Always have been. Heck, look at Jason- 18 years old and accepted into MIT. Didn't Bill Gates or the Facebook guy go there? And for chemistry! Always the top of his class, and he even outdid the teacher there. You'll find a solution together. I know it. I'll talk to my bank as well, see what they might be able to do. But Sarah, please," she squeezed again, "don't go over to that asshole. Fuck that. You're better than that."
******************
Jason spent that night locked in writhing mental agony. The swelter of emotion that had visited him when he learned of his mother's sexual considerations was enough to bury him. Hot tears watered his pillow, like he hadn't since painful puberty and horrible love sickness had in middle school.
Now even a grown man of eighteen, his tears came anyhow, and he was not ashamed of it. His mother was a beautiful woman, on so many levels. She did so much for him and took care of every little thing- moreover, she'd always been there- every recital, every game. Every science presentation. She'd wept tears like never before when he was accepted into several Ivy League schools, and even had took a brief second job to fund a trip to NASA.
Everything. She was his everything.
He did not share his mother's belief on Jesus- he had come to an agnostic conclusion through his studies of the natural world. However, he did often experience something of the divine when he thought of his mother. Maybe something a little earthly too.
He went to his 'back room,' then, place in his mind where the noises shut out and symphonies of color swirled around. He hoped it would help him sleep.
There he imagined. Imagined his mother. She was standing there, all five eleven, her blonde, thin hair draped over her head and on her shoulders. She was gorgeous- a pillar of a woman who brought happiness with her wherever she went, left flowers bloom in each footstep.
In this imagination, she wore a simple outfit of white adorned in gold trimming. Her bosom, full of life and power weighed heavily on her chest. Below, a narrow waste and wide womanly hips, a rump to match.
She stared at him, letting him take in all of her beauty. A crown of spun gold capped her head, a halo fit for a queen of her stature. Her white robes, draped now only over one shoulder, seemed to glow, heavenly in the brazen sky. Her eyes shone brightly, the same color of sapphires in the crystal pond.
Jason realized that she was looking down at him, still that serene smile on her face, her ruby red lips full and pursed.
He realized that he was smaller, only the size of a bug.
Or no... Was... Was she a giant? Some mighty goddess?
The answer suddenly didn't seem to matter when she took a step forward. The ground throomed loudly, knocking him down and off his feet and onto his ass.
He saw her sandal, a leather strappy thing wrapped all around her pillar of a thigh and comely foot, with adorable and perfectly formed toes sticking out, come down hard again. She was walking towards him- a skyscraper moving ever so towards him. The ground shook, but he got up anyway, and began to stand. This goddess, this queen mother of his, might step on him- and what an appropriate way- was it not right that a goddess like her should be queen over all? See everyone as bugs?
She loomed over him like no other- never had he been so simultaneously terrified and comforted.
His goddess, his queen was here!
She smiled at him, and reached down. Her perfect hands with their manicured nails scooped him up, and he welcomed them, feeling suddenly so warm and so safe. She brought him up and up, past her titanic legs, the fragrant crotch and hips, her taut stomach, and her voluminous breasts, to her smiling placid face.
Her face.
If only words could describe. Comfort, kindness, haven. Love only the way a mother, a creator, could.
Her lips parted, and the rush of fragrant breath came rushing out, smelling of something like jasmine or lilac. Something altogether familiar yet sensual. Accompanying the blast of air was a melodious voice, rumbling out from the chest and into the eternities.
"My son... My son."
She tilted her head to the side and brought her free hand up, stroking his back with a long, unlaquered nail. Feeling rippled through his nerves, the base of his neck down to his crotch. His toes curled involuntarily.
"You've got a big decision to make here... But I know you'll make the right choice."
Despite the vague encouragement, Jason smiled- all would be well; his mother said so, yes? Still.
"You... Mom, you're not... Really a goddess, are you? Like, this isn't happening, right?"
She did her little head bob thing she did- when she wanted to be mysterious or coy. She'd done it when asking how her occasional date went, or when she wanted to avoid talking about something. Maddening, yet all the same endearing.
"Well, no... I mean, you're sleeping, dear. I'm not really a goddess. At least, not in the strict sense. I'm just taking the form you see me as."
"Something from a Greek toga party?"
"Divinity, my little man!" She scratched the side of his head with a nail. "You think really highly of me- and your subconscious is filling in the blanks. Any response I give you, even this one, is already in you."
"You mean I made you all... Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman?"
"Isn't every mother a giant to her kids? They provide, they nurture, they protect... You're no different. Also, I'm around two hundred and eighteen feet tall to you. A little bigger than the movie." She winked at him, making him blush.
"Okay, okay... So, O mighty Sarah-"
"I'm still mom to you, young man."
"Er, mom... Mega mom... Heh, uh... What should I do? How can I help you? You've always been there and bent over backwards but... I feel like now I can't even help. You prevented me from working so I could work in the lab over the summer, but now we have no money. What should I do? I can't let you do... Yknow, that thing you said you would do for your boss... Right? You'd never do that... Right, mom?"
A sad smile crept across her lips.
"You know I would, dear. I've bent over backwards for you, and believe me- I wouldn't if I didn't think there was another way..."
She shrugged, a very ostentatious motion.
"As it stands, I'm going in Monday to smoke a pole for your education."
"Mom, Jesus Christ."
"Just sayin'."
He was quiet for a second.
"You know I’m going to stop you, right? Any means necessary?"
"Of course, naturally. You were always stubborn, after all."
"You... You knew?"
"Of course. I wouldn't be here otherwise. Don’t you remember? I’m already in your subconscious."
"Oh."
He sat down in her palm, cross legged. The dream was truly something else. Part of him, but only a small part, thought this might actually be a vision. A real divinity. Maybe it was his real mom, she a goddess in mortal guise.
Finally the words came to him.
"You deserve better."
"So you say."
"Like, much better. Better than what life has given you."
She pouted her lips.
"I like it well enough."
"It should be love, mom. You should love life. Not spend it serving others."
He waved his hands up high in the air.
"I mean, look at you- you're a goddess for... Well, god's sake. A queen."
She perked her ears up.
"You're a lovely woman, the most beautiful, gorgeous, lovely woman I have ever seen and I am so lucky to call you mom."
The head bob thing again.
"People don't deserve to lick the bottom of your feet. They're not worthy."
She nodded.
"Here it comes. But you're about to say... Go on..."
He chuckled.
"But they deserve to die under your feet. Like bugs." He then smiled widely, the idea forming in his mind. He chuckled then said, "literally."
She nodded slowly, circling her finger around his chin lovingly, lifting it and smiling softly at him.
"And that's why you're dreaming, my little man."
She retracted her free hand and closed it. A suffusion of green glowed from the clenched fist and she closed her eyes.
"This has been in your mind for many years. The idea that you're now forming. Recall that your knowledge of molecular structure and spacing was expanded several years ago. You're about to create something the world has never seen, something that will change the fabric of society and life among humans as we know it. People will die, by direct cause. And yet we may fail. But," she said with a smirk, "you're a stubborn mule and you're gonna do it anyway."
Her hand opened, and Jason beheld. Within lay a myriad of synthesized knowledge, conclusions that had not yet had been popularized.
Mad science.
Within he saw plans, processes, and most strangely, himself at the center.
Best of all, he saw the results.
All in her hand. All in his head. Just waiting there to be plucked up like ripe fruit.
He studied it, but she closed her hand.
"Mom, I wasn't... I wasn't done."
She shook her head, cocking her eyebrow.
"No, love- you won't. It's already there, waiting. You'll remember when you finish this dream, and you'll wake up with it in your head."
"So. Wake up, Jason."
He did so. He did so, with a new plan hatched in his mind. With new directions, new goals. New source material.
And best of all? The goddess mother Sarah vision had not lied- he remembered, and he remembered well.
He knew exactly what he would do for his mother, the real life goddess.