Page 49 of Loving Leo

Fucking go down, stupid dick!

After a few moments of thinking about boogers and the log of poop I found under someone’s desk once—they covered it up with a napkin thinking that would make it disappear instead of disposing of it in a toilet like a normal person—my dick finally settles down enough for me to walk inside the house. This is the same place I lived in the last few years of high school. In fact, my walls are still decorated with old boy band posters with a few porn magazines stashed under the mattress. God, the memories I have here.

As a kid, my mom and I moved around a lot, living in unsafe and shitty apartments like the one I live in now. One time we even found a safe space at a shelter. But I’ll never forget the day my mom signed the papers to buy her very first home. She worked her ass off for this place. She saved and scrimped. And nothing has changed. She still works hard to keep the mortgage paid. I mean, she’s been late on a few payments, but she’s made it work and it’s still hers.

I can’t wait for her to be able to pay it off. Maybe I can eventually even help her with this so she can work less. Who knows? I just need better cash flow and then I can help her like she’s always helped me. It wasn’t always perfect, but we had each other.

With a small smile, I walk inside, finding the door unlocked which either means she just got home or she’s heading out soon. When I enter the kitchen, I see her buzzing around in her gas station polo and jeans. It’s one of her many jobs and one she’s had for quite some time. The same goes for the cleaning job and the pet sitting.

My mom is always on the go, always busy with something, but she’s young and has the energy for it. She had me when she wassixteen, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her. Years of hard labor show in the premature gray hair on her head and the wrinkles on her face. But she’s no less beautiful and her internal optimism shines through.

“Oh, hi sweetie.” She finally stops moving around the kitchen, wiping her hands off on a towel and kissing me on the cheek. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d surprise you. And you know, you never actually answer my calls or texts.”

“I do too!”

I snort. “Yeah, okay.”

She swats at me playfully and I grin at her. She’s come a long way. She’s always been a great mother, but she was always so busy with work that she didn’t really have the time to be present. When I was eight, I had to learn how to cook and walk down to the bank to pay bills. By the time I turned ten, I was completely self sufficient.

I know I should be grateful because she worked hard so I wouldn’t be hungry or go without a roof over my head, but sometimes…dammit, sometimes I just wanted a mom. I wanted to just sit with her for longer than ten minutes without her falling asleep from sheer exhaustion on the couch.

“Is it okay I’ve stopped by?”

“Oh honey, you know you’re always welcome here.” She places a hand on my cheek, but before I can lean into the warm touch, she drops it and goes to the fridge, pulling out lunchmeat and veggies. “But I have to get my lunch made and head out for a shift.”

I deflate, taking a seat at the rickety table in the kitchen. “Gas station?”

She looks down at her shirt. “Oh shit. No. I just got back from there. I have to get to Mrs. Reed’s house. She needs a deep clean. That old biddy hates when I’m late, but she tips well and gives me candy. Oh dammit…”

She rushes out of the room and I go to the counter, making the sandwich so my mom doesn’t have to. It’s really not fair how muchshe works and that even after all the hours she puts in, she’s barely surviving. But then again, it is what it is. She’s not complaining, so why should I?

Maybe things would be different it my dad was around. Maybe he could have lightened the load she carries, but my suspicion is he would have actually made it worse. He’s not the most responsible guy and has spent more time in jail than out of it.

My mom comes back into the kitchen a few minutes later, freshly changed into a new shirt. She kisses my cheek as I place the sandwich in a baggie for her and toss in some other snacks just in case she’s still hungry after her lunch. “Thanks, baby. What would I do without you?”

Maybe without me, she would have been able to go to college and have an actual life, but I don’t say that out loud. I did once and she burst into tears. She’s told me, on more than one occasion, she never regretted having me, even if she was really young at the time. Even though she had to work her life away to afford a comfortable life for us.

She grabs the lunch box and slings it over her shoulder. “You going to stick around?”

There’s no point, but I just smile and nod. “Maybe for a bit.”

Maybe I’ll clean it up a bit, help her out so she can come home to less work.

“Great. Treat it like your home, because it is.” She singsongs on her way out the door and I flop back down in the chair at the kitchen table, glancing around at the small space.

“Yeah. Alright,” I sigh because this space is something my mom is proud of, but it never felt much like a home. It’s really just a house. It was always empty and lonely here. So much time was spent in my room, with the door locked, so I’d feel safe when she wasn’t there.

I want so much more than this. If I decide to have kids, I want to be present. I want to talk to them about their day when I pick them up from school. I want to make them dinner even if I’m mostly shit at cooking. I want to tuck them in and read to them.

I want them to know that they’re loved. No matter what.

I know dreaming about the future is me getting way ahead of myself. I may never have kids or meet anyone I want to have kids with, but if I do, things will be different.

I won’t just see them in passing.

I’m going to do better. I’m going to give them what I didn’t have.

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