MELODY

"What's with all the pictures of your mother?" The woman borders on sneering.

"We've lived here since I was born. Always too poor to afford a new place. So, I guess the pictures have really accumulated. Plus, she's the only family I have."

"Yeah I have been there. Forget 'afford'... when was the last time you saw any new construction around here, even? Or outside the city for that matter? The space is all used up. This is a nice enough apartment anyway. People would die for it." She pinched back the white polyester curtain covering the kitchen window. "Good view of downtown too."

"Yeah, once you look past all the dumpsters."

The orange glow of the lone 8-watt Edison bulb warmed the studio apartment.

"She's pretty!" The woman softened her approach, nodding to the pictures.

"Oh!" Ethen tried to sound informed.

"Where is she now?" She gasps suddenly, horror in her eyes. "She didn't— she's not..."

"No, no." He reassured her. "No, she left three-ish years ago on a mission trip for our... her church. The apartment has really been mine since."

Her relief was audible. "When is she coming back?"

"She's supposed to be back in a couple of months."

"Don't you miss her? Three years is a long time."

"Of course I do, in ways. But when you've been pinned under the utmost care and coddling of a woman like her for 30 years... it's nice to have a breather. It's nice to have a glass of wine whenever I like too... and some pretty company." He swills. "I guess I feel as though I have a lot of catching up to do." He eyes her.

She looks to the floor, smiling. "Is this really the first time you've had a woman in this apartment?" A blink transitions her gaze back to his.

"Besides my mom, yes. Such small spaces make it difficult for relationships... there's no room for privacy." He drinks again.

Her bright, knowing smile reminds his eyes to avoid settling on her plunging neckline. "Well I guess that makes me a pretty special woman, huh?" She knows his eyes are struggling. He is butter and she's a hot knife.

"Tonight is... a lot of firsts." He says, nervously attempting to downplay the building tension.

"How so?"

He has conversationally put himself in check, and now must ungracefully move himself out of it. "I... I've never been on a real date before tonight."

She is incredulous. "No! You are kidding!"

"What, certainly I didn't have you fooled?"

"Wow. I guess she really kept you all to herself, huh?" They both turned, almost ceremoniously, to look at a life-size portrait of Ethen's mother, perched atop the refrigerator, her deep brown eyes still surveilling his activity. "That's ok, I totally get it. Just don't invite your mom on our second date or you might find yourself feeling like the third wheel."

"What's that supposed to mean?" His tone became defensive, as if betrayed.

"Well I'm just joking that since she is still around so much in your life, she might join us on a date and we wouldn't even get a chance to be alone. I'm completely kidding though."

"Oh." Ethen re-sheathed his emotional knives. Awkwardness soaked the social fabric they had punctured.

"Yeah, I'm not sure she would approve of a lot of this. Alcohol was never a thing we would do around each other; she was strict about it."

"Oh really? Why so strict if you don't mind me asking?"

"Um..." Ethen kicked the question around in his mind like a can. "It wasn't that she didn't like drinking... she knew how to enjoy a nice wine or spirit. I think... I don't know, there was something inappropriate about... our inhibitions being loosened around each other. Dunno. Just a supposition."

"Oh I see. So it wasn't that your mom didn't like to drink, she just didn't like to drink around you?"

"I guess so." Ethen followed the next sip of wine, retreating into himself.

"Well I guess a lot of parents are that way. I can't say I would like my kids to see me tipsy. So I feel her on that. But what else was your mom strict about?"

"There are... too many answers to that question." He chuckles into his glass.

"Give me a few examples."

"Melody... c'mon..." He scoffs. "... it's like you're more into my mom than me."

"Not true at all! I'm just wondering about what kind of environment you grew up in, because it obviously affected you. I grew up with a pretty laid back mom, and as a result my brother and I are pretty laid back as well. So I'm just curious to hear some differences!"

"She was very strict about maintaining... distance between us. Propriety. She never hugged or... touched me in any physical contact, almost ever, not that I can remember. It's like she was afraid to. Other than that... she was strict about church, sugary drinks, time in front of the computer, and..." He looks up towards one raised eyebrow. "... homework. Way back in the day."

"Oh I see, so you didn't get a lot of affection from her. I'm sorry to hear that. Were you a good student?"

"For homework; yes. For church; no. But enough about my mom, Melody. I want to talk about... you..."

Her cheeks become erythemic. "Well, ok, what about me do you want to know?"

He again nervously retreats his rhetoric, fumbling his own advances. "Tell me about your family. Two boys, right? You three get along?"

"Oh gosh yes, my boys are my everything. They're both such amazing kids and I'm so proud of them. They really are my light. I love being their mom, it's the best thing in the world. They keep me grounded and make me want to be a better person."

"Handsome?"

"Well...I mean they're my kids so I think they're the most handsome boys in the whole wide world. But objectively speaking, I think they're both pretty cute. My oldest is a bit lanky and goofy looking, but he makes up for it with a lot of charms. My younger one is a bit more handsome but he's got some nerdy qualities to him."

"Melody, can I ask an odd question?"

"Shoot, ask away. I'm an open book!"

"Let me know if you need another drink before answering it... we've still got a quarter of a bottle left..."

"Alright then, if you insist!" She laughs. "Hit me with both!"

He empties the bottle to her glass and places it down on the wooden kitchen table carefully. "If you were told at one of your son's birth that he would grow up to marry you, would you try to kill him to prevent that from happening?"

She stays stunned silent for a few seconds, staring at Ethen, then bursts into hysterical laughter. "That's...that's the most absurd question I've ever heard. Of course not! Why would I?"

Ethen drinks both her words and the merlot. "Because that's what the mythological figure that my mother worshiped did to her own son."

"Wait...what? Who is this mythological figure? I feel like I'm not getting the full story here!" Her discomfort elevates.

"Jocasta. The son is Oedipus. You know... from "Oedipus Rex"? Famous Greek tragedy and play?"

"Ohhh. Oh. My god." She looks at Ethen, wide eyed. "How did you even think of that question?"

"I didn't." He smacked his wine as he gulped. "It's a typical propaganda question that my mother's church used to ask... an emotional hook... sort of the same function as 'If you died tonight, would you go to heaven?'... that bullcrap you see on cheap pamphlets."

"Oh my gosh. That is a disgusting question."

"It is. Well... take it for what it is worth... some twisted people would apparently kill their kid rather than see such a prophecy fulfilled. Or, write a play about it."

"That is horrifying. I hope those people never have children. And you used to go to this church when you were a kid?"

"I did."

"So you must have grown up with some very interesting beliefs then. Did your mom always make you stick to those?"

"My mom had hopes for me I think in the church, but she never forced me to believe anything. She was very respectful. Very insistent on me discovering my own path and truth. I never really jived with her church. Or the people there. I guess I never really jived with her either."

"It's important for parents to let their children make their own choices, especially when it comes to their beliefs. But that question was just...weird. Did they think most people were willing to kill their own children to stop a prophecy?"

"No, they figured most were good enough people to not. They were banking on the person saying 'no'."

"Oh okay. So it was a test. It's still weird though. Most parents can't even think of that kind of scenario. Let alone answer that question honestly."

"Yeah. Here we are talking about my mother again... maybe I should turn all the pictures of her in the house around."

"Ah, let her watch, we have nothing to hide!"

He dims the light. "Take that, Mother! I don't think she would smile favorably on..."

His fragment hangs unfinished in the air, as if dilating time.

She completes it. "... on what, Ethen?"

A gravity pulls them together slowly. Their lips dock and celebrate configurations. Minutes later, Melody surfaces for breath.

"Let's lie down."

"There's only one place in the apartment."

They fall upon the bed, hands positioning themselves and searching each other thoroughly. She encourages his abandonment to the animality he has never felt but always known. "God you're a good kisser. How?"

"Show me things I've missed out on, Melody. Let's see if I'm good at them too."

"I'll show you things you never even dreamt of, Ethen. Just wait and see."

The apartment is hued with heavy breathing and the aria of colliding tongues. Clothes become burdens. Two souls melt and pool into one another as the floor falls away, the ceiling becomes stars, and the walls tower to testify the present beauty like clergy. The fugitive streetlight stealing in through the window gives a blue contour to what otherwise only hands can see. In the ecstasy of this first blood, this rite, this holy ritual, Melody is the first to break the ancient, non-verbal language.

"Ethen... I can't... show you anything unless... if you can't..."

The momentum cracks and splinters. Ethen sits up, mortified.

She covers herself with the bedsheets and sits up on the bed. "Is there a... problem? Am I doing something wrong?" "

Ethen gives up the ghost in a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry Melody. This has been an issue since I was young. I thought... now that things are a bit different, maybe..."

"Oh, I see. Well, don't worry about it! I'm not upset or offended. If you aren't in the mood, that's totally fine." She puts her hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eye with a sincere smile, trying to reassure him that there is no pressure from her.

"I am in the mood, but I just... this has always been the point of surrender in my attempts of relationships. I'm not gay, I swear. Trust me. I've tried to be."

She lets out a half-manufactured chuckle. "Well I hope you don't think I was suggesting that! But it would be fine if you are. Nothing wrong with it. But I don't get that vibe from you. It's ok, there's no rush. We can take all the time we need to get comfortable with each other. I don't want you to be nervous around me or feel like you have to do anything you don't want to. Let's just take it slow and enjoy the moment together."

A pregnant pause takes its time. Ethen can't stand it any longer.

"I really thought everything was perfect leading up to it this time."

She takes Ethen's hand. "Don't overthink it. Everything is perfect. Just relax and let your body take its natural course. We're completely alone together here — just you and me. So don't worry about a damn thing."

"Right... alone together... still not used to that, I guess. Still..."

"... is it... your mother?"

"What?! How dare you speak to me like that! I am an independent, strong man, and I sure as hell am not a boy about to cry 'Mommy'!"

"Woah, no, no... I meant her impact on you, not her herself! Her presence. She seemed like she was very controlling and she's still so here, in ways. Look, maybe we can get to the bottom of this! Wouldn't that be nice? To resolve some... issues?"

Ethen is too embarrassed to speak.

"Do you think your mother plays a role here? Like, I know she wasn't that physically affectionate with you growing up, so I wonder if you were ever uncomfortable exploring that intimacy with women because of her. Or if she ever had any words to say about it."

"No that's ridiculous, what's the matter with you?!" Ethen stands up, offended, and begins to collect the clothes that they had moments before strewn across the room as confetti. "That's a line straight out of her sex cult!"

"Hey. Ethen, calm down, I wasn't suggesting — "

"They taught that a mother should... you know... guide her own son! It's a form of pederasty for God's sake, that's what it is! Abuse!"

Melody aims to diffuse the incendiary man. "You're right, Ethen. I agree with you. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you were mistreated like that."

He calms, chokes up, and tears. "My mother never did anything to me like that. What I said is the truth, she barely touched me at all, and never like that. No one did. But that's what they preached. Every week. Over and over." He replants himself in the present tense. "I'm sorry. Sorry I flew off the handle like that."

"Oh my gosh, Ethen. That is a sick and twisted thing to preach to people. I can't believe there are 'churches' out there spreading a message like that. It's just wrong on so many levels. I'm sorry you had to grow up in that environment. But I'm glad you got through it unscathed. Have you ever tried to talk to her about it?"

"... no. Beyond just avoiding the subject like the plague. This is... this is the most I've talked about it. To anyone."

"Well... I want you to know I'm here for you. If you need to talk about things like that, or if you ever need advice or just someone to listen, I'm here. I know it's not easy growing up in an environment like that. But I hope you can know it's not your fault, and there's nothing wrong with you. You're actually quite normal."

An honest laugh bubbles out of him. "Normal?"

"Yep." She smiles cheerfully. "You're a good-looking man, who is clearly compassionate and sensitive. Not to mention funny and charming. You have so many good qualities, it's just a shame you were brought up in such an unhealthy environment. You're an example of good things springing from even the worst of circumstances. I'm here for you. I'm here to support you when you need to talk, or to offer advice when you want it. I care about you, and I want to see you be happy. So don't hesitate to come to me for anything."

"Thanks. I guess this date is over, huh? Feels more like a therapy session now."

"Not at all! I haven't told you this yet, but I'm a certified psychologist by trade."

"I get the feeling that comment was supposed to make me feel better."

"This feels nothing like a therapy session, trust me. The night is still young. But we don't have to force anything... if you want to just hang out and talk for a while, I'm cool with that too. I enjoy your company." She attempts to defibrillate the prior mood. "But I'd love to see where some of your suggestions might lead." She smiles at him, curls her hand around his neck, and their lips rejoin tenderly, tongues eager to find each other.

Breathlessly between kisses, Melody speaks. "I love the way you kiss. Just the right amount of play." She runs her hands over his chest. "Can I... offer something? A suggestion?"

"Yes. Anything. I'm yours."

She brings her words to a flirtatious whisper. "I must seem a lot like your mother... I mean, I'm sure you know that already. Don't think I didn't notice that me and the pictures all over your apartment share traits."

Ethen struggles to find a response with some footing. "Men tend to seek out qualities in women that remind them of their mothers... same as daughters for their fathers. There's nothing unusual about that."

She smirks. "You know, I can have that same commanding presence she's got... and offer more than what she could. I'm all about taking charge and guiding you through this, if that's what you want." She lets the sheets fall from her to the bed once again. "I want you to relax, and let me take over for a while. Close your eyes for me, ok? Just relax and let me do what I do. Don't think about anything, just go with the flow and enjoy the sensation. Can you do that for me?" She leans in to whisper warmly in his ear. "Sweetie?" She gently grabs his face and kisses him. "Is there anything I can do for... my strong boy?" She strokes his hair, then gently her fingers trace his jawline as she presses her lips onto his.

His approval — involuntary, inescapably honest — states itself wordlessly, and to the notice of both of them.

She is impressed. Ethen is dumfounded.

Their night experiences no further impediments.

The universe is born.