My mother could not have looked so shocked if I had smacked her in the mouth. "How dare you say that about your father!" she yelled. "He was always very good to you. It was the money he left you that supported you through that tech course that you dropped out of. I can't understand why you didn't go to his funeral. He was far better to you than you deserved, you good for nothing loser!"
Now it was my turn with the stunned mullet look. "Dad was a monster!" I screamed. "He was a raging creep, always looking at me with his beady eyes, smirking behind my back." Even I could sense how pathetic that sounded. But there was something about him that made my hair stand on end, that make me think of garlic, mirrors and crucifixes. I wish I knew what it was. high-heels and busty girls movies
The next day, with my typical impulsiveness, I moved straight out of my mother's house. Thereafter the series of damp flats, sullen flatmates, flatulent boyfriends and corpulent bosses with wandering hands. Until I secured my present job five months ago, which reached the level of being tolerable - just.
I had not returned to my mother's place after that outburst, though our initial frosty relationship did thaw sufficiently for us to meet in town for coffee sometimes and to talk to each other on the phone. So it was with some trepidation that I entered her large open plan home, helloing nervously. I realised that Andrew had never called me a loser, in fact he seemed to have believed in me. Maybe I would finish my degree and show them all; my mother, my sarcastic boss, the pimply boyfriends - who needed them? The words of a song filled my head as I searched the house for my mum, 'a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.'
The thought of a snapper saddling a ten speed brought me out in the giggles, and it was in this undignified pose that my mother found me.
"Glad to see you find some things funny," was her greeting. She tossed back her blonde hair. "I suppose you want to borrow the clothes for your new boyfriend."
"He's not really my boyfriend," I protested. "He's my ex-tutor. He was the only one of the tutors who believed in me and I'm returning the favour."
"Whatever," my mother sniffed. "Your love life doesn't concern me in the slightest. Though I must say your tutor, for all his lack of dress sense, is a far better proposition than the detritus you usually end up with. He's a bit old for you, but not so much to be indecent, and he's all right in the looks department.
"I might take a fancy to him myself if you don't want him." She raised an eyebrow at me as she said this. "Rodney is hot enough in the sack, but his company is starting to bore me somewhat."
I wondered whether she realised how jealous that last statement made me feel. I covered my feelings with spite. "Well even an empty headed twit like Rodney is better than the one you spent the best years of your life with. Mind you that's not saying much."
Mum glared at me, and I thought she was about to say something about father - for some reason she still seems to like the lecherous sleaze; but instead she started walking up stairs. "I'll show you the clothes. From what I can understand of your tutor, he will need some help putting them on as well."
Mum handed me a suit jacket, a shirt, a tie, a pair of trousers and a pair of socks. "I don't know what size his feet are," she said. "But his own shoes should be acceptable if you get him to polish them." She added a shoe brush and some black polish to the bundle she handed to me.
"Good luck," she called as I took my leav free sex cams