Breakfast talk

“So, you’re going to be having Dinner with Mr and Mrs Chapman.”

You ate another spoonful of oatmeal before answering. “Yes Mom.”

She sat back in her chair at the breakfast table and gave you an unreadable expression. Was it irritation that coloured her face? Concern? Curiosity? For a time she simply watched you are in silence.

“You’ll need to be on your best behaviour, ok?”

“Mom, I know the drill. I’ll say all my P’s and Q’s, wont make an ass out of myself or anything.”

The corners of her mouth tugged downwards slightly. “It’s more than being formal. I went to school with Eric and he’s very…intense.”

“What do you mean?” You probed, “didn’t you say he got along with Grandpa?”

Still dressed in her PJs, your mom shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “They got along up to a point, but…” she chewed on her bottom lip, suddenly hesitating.

“What?” You pushed, “what happened?”

“Well, nothing exactly, it was just rumours and how Eric acted back then. He and his friends were always a little weird,” she shrugged, “Perhaps I’m being unfair. It was a different time, with the whole satanic panic back then but those boys always gave that vibe. They were into creepy stuff.”

You swallowed another spoonful of oatmeal. “What, like **** metal or something?”

“The rumour was that they used to sneak into the cemetery at night and …” she dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand, “it was just gossip. But look, what I’m getting at is that even though he’s done well for himself, the guy is very strange. If you’re serious about this Stacy girl then don’t let her dad put you off. Just be polite, answer his questions within reason and try to get through the evening.”

There was a genuine expression of concern on your mom’s face and the gravity of her words didn’t escape you. But as you processed what your mom was saying, another thought scratched to the surface of your mind.

“Was Grandpa into weird stuff too?”

Your mother’s face grew pale and still. She looked away suddenly and reached for her coffee mug in a futile attempt to hide the obvious discomfort. What was she hiding?

“You’re grandfather was a worldly man.” She said after a protracted silence.

The implications of that were concerning. Perhaps you would need to pay a visit to your grandmother’s place and look through the old man’s things to investigate further. It was an uncomfortable thought, but there was a very real chance your grandfather was connected to the cult.

And then there was the ring…

You glanced at the ring, still on your finger. Your mother followed your gaze and came to rest her brown eyes on the tiny Ruby. For several heartbeats nothing was said, the mature woman sat transfixed and you felt too uneasy to move.

There was a familiar stirring from within, the pulse from the ring vibrating through your soul. Your eyes took in the form of your mother, wearing an old T-shirt and a pair shorts. You noticed her full breasts, the exposed flesh of her athletic legs….

No. Using every ounce of willpower you shut the thought down and moved your hand out of your mom’s sight.

There are limits, you told yourself. Repeating it over and over like a mantra.

Your mom seemed to snap back to normal from her semi-entranced state and went back to drinking her coffee. You finished breakfast and got ready for the day, mind racing with the new information.