This is the second part of a fiction serial, in 1417 words.
“What is about about your friend’s mums? How come we always fancy each other’s mum, but can’t see the attraction ourselves? Don’t you think that’s funny?” Finn smiled. His friend was right. “Well I don’t know, Roly, but we all do, don’t we? I mean, I think Mrs Pearce is gorgeous, really stunning. But Micky Pearce thought I was taking the piss when I told him that, and I thought he was going to punch me”. The two boys sat grinning at that. Little Micky Pearce, like he could fight anyone. Roland thought about his own mum for a moment. A woman who dedicated her life to physical hobbies, and sport. Rarely seen not wearing a tracksuit and trainers, her hair tied back in a tight pony tail. She coached the Netball team in town, and her claim to fame was that she once played for the English Netball Team. But only once. She was so thin, he could count the ribs through her clothes, and her leg muscles stuck out through anything she was wearing. He turned to his best friend again. “Well you fancy my mum, and I don’t get that. She’s skinny, and she looks old”.
When Finn was five years old, Roxanne took him along to the local school, for his first day. He had been well prepared. She had him up to speed with easy reading and numbers, and she had told him what to expect from his first day at proper school. She was starting back at work that day, only school-hours, and she didn’t want any tantrums to upset that. Outside the gate, she spotted a slim woman with another small boy. Slightly taller than Finn, and surprisingly good-looking, with his ice blue eyes, and almost white blonde hair. She went up to the woman and smiled. “Hi, I’m Roxanne. How about we take the boys in together, and let them settle in? They might become firm friends”. Although she must have been much the same age, the slim woman looked older. Her hard face didn’t really soften as she spoke. “Yeah, why not? I’m Hannah, and this is Roland”. Roxanne turned to Finn. “Say hello to Roland, darling. Why don’t you hold his hand? You could be good friends at school”.
By the time she collected him that afternoon, all Finn could talk about was Roland. He was the best friend ever, he told her.
Roland seemed to grow up faster than Finn. He was definitely taller and more muscular, by the time they both went to the secondary school in town. For six years, they had been inseparable. Although they had a wider group of friends, they still stuck together. Roland did well enough in his studies, but it was clear that Finn was more intelligent than any of the other boys. They had spent weekend and school holiday sleepovers at each other’s houses, and Roland had even gone on a summer holiday with them, a week away in a timber lodge in Scotland. But Roxanne and Hannah had never become friends, and seemed to tolerate each other merely for the sake of the boys.
At school, and when wandering around the park, or the shops in town, Roland looked out for his best friend. Older boys avoided the strong-looking protector, and left the quiet and more vulnerable Finn alone. In return, Roland got help with his homework, his understanding of French, and tips on good books to read to help his studies along. They were totally relaxed in their own company, and even started to guess what the other was thinking. Although neither of them mentioned it, they knew they were true friends, and would always be. Whatever else happened.
Always aware of his academic limitations, and the fact that his parents didn’t seem unduly concerned about that, Roland was happy enough. His mum had tried to get him interested in sport, but he lacked the competitive urge for team games. However, he was eager to use the weights she supplied, and worked out to a programme she devised for him. He also noticed his dad becoming more distant as he approached his teens. He had once been happy to play with him, racing toy cars around, or setting up train sets. But as his son got older, it felt as if he he was no longer able to communicate, unsure what to say. And dad had started to sleep in the spare room too. It was never mentioned, but with mum out most nights at various sports clubs, or spending hours running on her own, Roland longed for the nights he could stay over at Finn’s.
His mum was warm and friendly, and their home life felt happy and secure. Even though his dad was so much older, Mr Mellor was good fun. He loved to talk to the boys about cars, and would join in with the video games, or let them watch lots of repeats of Top Gear, laughing along with them. He was close to Finn in a way that Roland had never known with his own father.
There were many times when he wished he had been Finn’s brother, and lived there too.
By the time both boys had turned thirteen, only sixteen days apart, they spent most of their time talking about sex. Finn had no parental controls on his laptop, so could look at anything he wanted, whilst pretending to do school work. Mrs Mellor gave him that freedom. She wanted him to explore everything, and make up his own mind about life, with no preconceptions based on society and censorship. Finn told him what she had said when he got the new laptop. “No, there won’t be any codes, or parental controls. I know what you will look at, and you will do that somewhere, if not here. It is natural, and part of growing up. I would sooner you discover all that stuff in the comfort of your own room, rather than sneaking around with older boys, or spending all your time trying to hack the controls. Just don’t become obsessed with it. It’s not real life, as you will learn one day”. Finn had blushed as he thanked his mum. When he told Roland what she had said, all he could reply was, “Wow, I wish my mum was like yours”.
They had soon tired of constantly surfing hundreds of porn websites. Mrs Mellor had been right. It didn’t feel real. Instead, they became fixated on some of the local girls, mostly the older sisters of some of their school friends. When they had exhausted that, they began to confess to the attractions about each other’s mums. At first they laughed about that, then came to accept it. The reasoning behind it was solid enough. Mums were used to sons. They walked around in their underwear at home, didn’t bother about how they sat on the sofa, or sprawled in a chair. Changed their clothes in front of you without thinking, and even had a pee on the toilet, without closing the door. But when it was your mum, you thought nothing of it. You might have been looking in their direction, but you saw nothing unusual.
Then when your friends started to come round, and stay over, your mum got used to them too, and started to act in that same careless fashion. They forgot that those boys, hormones raging in their early teens, were not their sons. To them, you were an older attractive woman, and your casual habits were driving them to distraction, taking the accustomed frustration to a level never previously experienced.
After a long pause for thought, Roland and Finn continued the conversation they had started, sitting under the apple tree in the Mellor’s garden. Finn had considered what had been said, and was ready with an answer. “Your mum looks skinny and old to you, I see that. But my mum looks chubby and tired to me. I think your mum looks really good. She’s athletic, I like that”. Roland was equally ready with his reply. “But your mum is so curvy, and I love her hair. Remember that time you had the barbecue, and she wore a bikini? Wow! She looked so hot”. His friend smiled at the memory. “Yeah, her boobs were almost hanging out, and you were in a right state”.
The boys laughed, and then Roland asked a serious question, a frown contorting his features. “Why do you think they do that though? You know, mums. Why don’t they care that we are looking, when we are not their son?”
Finn thought for a while. “I think they just forget they are sexy”.