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MidReal Story
Tempted by My Mom’s Friend
Scenario:I stared at the clock, counting down the seconds until Veronica knocked on the door. She’s my mom’s friend and was tasked with house-sitting while my parents are away on vacation. Apparently, they didn’t trust me to be alone at the house.
Finally, I heard the knock. Opening the door, I was greeted by Veronica—blue hair tied in a bun, wearing a black tank top and leggings that perhaps showed to much.
"Heyyyy! Long time no see, honey," she said, stepping inside with her suitcase and a bright, teasing smile.
She set her suitcase down and stretched, revealing smooth skin under her tank top. "Looks like we’ll be alone together for a while," she added with a wink.
Her gaze shifted toward the backyard. "I heard you have a pool... Maybe I'll let you watch as I swim with my bikini on."
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Christine Windsor
young adult, relationship with Veronica and parents, petite with curly brown hair, curious and naive
Mateo Windsor
Christine's father and Veronica's friend, relationship with Christine and his wife Nicolette, tall with greying hair, protective and trusting
Veronica Carter
house sitter and friend of Christine's mom, relationship with Christine and her parents, striking blue hair in a bun, seductive and manipulative
My parents are going on vacation, and they have entrusted me to the care of their friend, Veronica.
I am not familiar with this woman, but my mother says she is trustworthy.
As I watch them drive away, I wave goodbye, feeling a little abandoned.
I look over at the house sitter, who is watching me with a small smile playing on her lips.
"Come on now, Christine," she says, her voice low and sultry.
"What shall we do first?"
I’m not sure, but there is something about her tone that makes me feel uneasy.
Maybe it’s just because I don’t know her, but as we enter the house together, I can’t help but feel like I’m in trouble somehow.
"Let’s get you settled first," she says, leading me up the stairs and into my bedroom.
As we enter the room, I notice that she lingers by the door, eyeing me seductively.
"What’s wrong?"
I ask, feeling a shiver run down my spine.
"Nothing’s wrong, baby," she says, her voice dropping even lower.
"I was just thinking how much you look like your mother."
Then she turns and walks back down the stairs, leaving me feeling like I just imagined the whole thing.
I hesitate at the top of the stairs, watching her go.
Her words echo in my head as I grip the banister.
Finally, I make my way down the stairs, each step creaking beneath my feet.
Veronica is in the living room, running her fingers over the family photos on the mantle.
She picks one up, a picture of my mother from her college days.
When she sees me standing there, she beckons with one finger.
My feet move forward despite my unease, and she holds the picture up next to my face, comparing.
Her other hand reaches out to touch my chin, tilting my head to match the angle in the picture.
She runs her fingers over my chin, studying the picture and me.
I step back, and she follows, setting the picture down on the mantle.
She continues to move forward until I bump into the wall.
Her perfume is strong and overwhelming, and I can’t help but wrinkle my nose.
She reaches up, placing both hands on either side of my head, caging me in.
Outside, thunder rumbles in the distance.
Suddenly, rain starts pounding against the windows, causing me to jump.
I try to duck under her arm, but she shifts to block my escape.
The storm grows more intense, lightning flashing across the sky and illuminating her face inches from mine.
"Why are you doing this?" I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Because your mother and I have unfinished business," she replies, her eyes darkening with something I can't quite place.
"What do you mean by that?" I demand, my heart pounding as the storm rages on outside.
Her hands slide from the wall to my shoulders, her fingers tracing along my collarbone.
The touch is deliberate, almost possessive.
The thunder rumbles again, but it seems distant compared to the pounding of my pulse in my ears.
I try to turn my head away, but she catches my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze.
Her blue eyes search mine intensely, and I feel a knot form in my stomach.
"You look so much like her," she whispers, thumb brushing across my lower lip.
I jerk back, but the wall prevents me from escaping.
"Stop it," I say, shoving her hands away from my face.
"Tell me what happened with my mother."
She steps back, running her fingers through her hair and eyeing me with a mix of frustration and desire.
I try to move past her, but she blocks my path, one arm stretched out across the wall.
"Your mother and I were more than friends in college," she says, pulling out her phone and scrolling through it.
She stops at an old photo and turns the screen toward me.
It's a picture from a party, and two girls are embracing in the center.
One of them is my mother, and the other is Veronica.
They're both wearing bathing suits, and their skin is slick with water as they kiss each other’s necks.
I swallow hard, feeling a lump form in my throat as I take in the image of my mother so carefree and young.
"She never told me about this," I say, my voice trembling with disbelief.
"She didn't want you to know," Veronica replies, her tone softening as she lowers the phone.
"But why now? Why tell me this after all these years?"
She slides down the wall, sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out before her.
I follow her lead, my legs feeling weak as I process this revelation about my mother.
Veronica crouches beside me, her hand resting on my knee as she shows me more photos from their college days.
Each swipe reveals another moment they shared together - dancing at clubs, cuddling on the beach, stealing kisses in dorm rooms.
My hands shake as I hold the phone, taking in this hidden side of my mother.
"Why didn't she marry you?" I ask, pushing the phone away from me.
Veronica's grip on my knee tightens as she replies, "Your mother chose the safer path. We were supposed to move in together after graduation, but she backed out at the last minute. She said she couldn't do it."
I turn my head away, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
"Why are you showing me this?"
I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Because you deserve to know," Veronica responds gently.
"And now, it's your choice to make."
I lean my head against her shoulder as she scrolls through more photos on her phone.
Fingers tracing the screen, I pause on an image of Mom speaking at a gay rights rally.
Her face is set in a passionate expression, her hand raised in defiance.
Veronica's hand strokes my hair, and I feel her warm breath against my ear as she speaks.
"She was so brave," Veronica says softly.
"When it wasn't safe to be out, she organized underground LGBTQ meetings. She fought for our rights."
I lift my head, turning to meet her gaze.
"Do you have any of her journals?"
I ask, hoping to learn more about this hidden side of my mother.
Veronica nods, reaching into her bag and pulling out a worn leather notebook.
She opens it, revealing pages filled with handwritten notes and sketches.
"These are her words," Veronica says, handing the journal to me with a reverence that makes my heart ache.
I flip through the pages, each one a testament to my mother's courage and struggles.
"She wanted you to have this when you were ready," Veronica adds, her voice barely above a whisper.
I sit cross-legged on the floor, running my fingers over Mom's handwriting in the journal.
Each page reveals more of her story - poetry about forbidden love, sketches of protest signs, and detailed accounts of secret meetings in basements.
Veronica slides closer, her shoulder pressing against mine as she points to a particular entry.
"This is the night she first kissed me," Veronica says, her voice filled with nostalgia.
"It was at a rally. We were afraid of being caught, but our hearts pounded with excitement."
My hands shake as I turn the pages, coming across a passage where Mom writes about her dreams of living openly with Veronica.
Tears well up in my eyes as I read her words, feeling a deep connection to this side of her that I never knew existed.
I reach the final entry, where Mom writes about choosing my father over Veronica.
Her words are filled with pain and regret, but also a sense of determination to create a better life for me.
I try to close the journal, but Veronica's hand covers mine, stopping me.
"She loved us both," Veronica says gently.
"She did what she thought was right."
I nod, slowly closing the journal and placing it on the floor beside me.
My fingers linger on the worn leather cover, feeling a sense of connection to this part of my mother's past that I never knew existed.
Veronica's arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me against her side as we sit together against the wall.
The storm outside has quieted to a gentle rain, and the room feels heavy with emotion.
My head leans against Veronica's shoulder, feeling the weight of everything I've learned.
The scent of her perfume no longer seems threatening, but familiar and comforting.
Through my tears, I notice a small rainbow pin on her tank top that I hadn't seen before.