“I’ll be wearing a mask, so it’ll be fine. Plus, I dyed my hair for the show. You worry too much.” She pats my cheek.
This coming from a woman who cut a hole in a barbed-wire fence, taught me how to hotwire a car, and drove me across continental middle America to escape a whole pile of crazy. Then she legally changed our names—not the best names, and not the best changes, but then, my mom doesn’t always think things through. Who willingly chooses the last name Hoar?
“I have friends coming over soon,” I tell her.
“Don’t worry, Char-char. They’ll be in and out within the hour.”
I sure as hell hope so. Explaining my sex life with Darren is one thing, but explaining my mother is another entirely.
I make myself tea as the crew takes over the kitchen and starts moving furniture out of the way. The chair from my living room is relocated to where the table once was. A footstool is brought in while my mother opens her bag and sets out a vast array of sex toys, many of which I’m familiar with since she likes to send me every new prototype she gets her hands on.
“Nice place,” Mask Guy says. He’s doing that head-nod thing people do when they’re uncomfortable and don’t know what else to say. He also hitches his thumbs in his chaps, probably wishing he had pockets.
“Uh, thanks.”
“So that’s your mom, huh?” He inclines his head in her direction. She’s using eyelash glue to attach a mask to her face. All it covers is the area around her eyes, so it’s not particularly great at concealing her identity. I’d like to point this detail out to her, but there are currently too many people here.
“Yup.” I bring my mug to my lips and blow. Later I’m drinking wine, or shots. Right now I’m trying to calm myself with chamomile.
“Do you ever tag team?”
I choke on a mouthful of hot tea and cough, trying to clear my airway. I set my mug on the counter as Mask Guy slaps me on the back. But when I keep coughing, he starts the Heimlich on me, and several flashes go off.
“Stop! Please don’t touch me,” I yell at both the photographer and the mask guy as I smack at his hands. He releases me and drops to all fours.
“I’m prepared to accept my punishment, mistress daughter.”
I flail around. “Mom! Can you come deal with this?”
This is way more than any daughter should have to handle when her mom comes for a visit.
My mom steps in and slaps Mask Guy on the ass a couple of times. She gives me a patient smile while she pats his head like he’s a dog, not a person.
“I brought you fresh candies. They’re in my bag. Why don’t you have one and relax, sweetie? I also brought you presents, but we can open them together if you want to wait.”
I grab my mom’s bag and take it to the living room, where there is no camera crew. I find the bag of candies in one of the side pockets—which is the only place I check because going through my mom’s overnight bag isn’t for the faint of heart, and I’m sure I’ll find a few things I’d rather not see.
As promised, the camera crew is able to wrap things up within the hour. But of course, Mom has to chat them up, so they’re on their way out the door when Violet and Poppy arrive.
Mask Guy pulls it up over his head on his way out the door. His hair is wet from being encased in latex for the past hour, and his face is red. He might be okay looking, but I’m too distracted by Laverne sitting on her front porch, witnessing the porn parade exit my house.
“If you ever get into the biz, and you need someone to practice on, I’d love to bottom for you,” maskless Mask Guy says.
“I have a boyfriend.”
“Of course you do.” He slips his hand down the front of his assless chaps and withdraws a baggie. Inside are his business cards. “Here’s my card, should that change.”
“Uh, thanks.”
Violet and Poppy stand at the edge of my garden as the porn parade disperses. They both check out maskless Mask Guy’s ass as he passes. It’s a pretty nice ass; I’ll give him that. I glance the card—apparently his name is Rodney Steele. Of course. Steel rod, how clever.
Violet and Poppy give each other a look before they rush up the walkway and I usher them into the house. “Uh, you wanna explain that?” Vi asks as I close the door behind them.
“Hi girls! You must be Char-char’s friends! I’m Whensday! Her mom!”
When we changed our identities, my mom wanted to make sure our names were easy to remember. Her real name is Wendy, so she decided on Whensday, spelled incorrectly—W-H-E-N-S-D-A-Y. Although she says it was on purpose. My life was a lot weird. Clearly it still is.
Poppy flashes one of her sweet smiles and extends a hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Mom, this is Poppy, and you remember Violet.”
“Oh, yes, of course! And you’re both flowers! How fun is that?” My mom is still wearing her fetish gear. The last time Violet met my mom she was wearing normal-people clothes, so this is a bit of a shocker, I think.
“Um, are you planning to change now that the camera crew is gone, or . . .” I let it hang, hoping she’ll take the hint.
“I have to leave soon to meet with a client, so I’ll change when I get back. What’re you girls doing tonight?”
“We’re watching the hockey playoffs.”
The doorbell rings again, forcing me to leave my mother unsupervised with my friends.
Sunny and Lily are standing on my front porch. They look like a couple of bag ladies with all the stuff they’re carrying, including a sleeping Logan strapped into his car seat. He could be a professional napper. When he isn’t bumbling around being super cute, he’s sleeping on any available surface: chairs, couches, laps, the floor, Lily’s wiener dog’s dog bed.
“Look, girls, I need to tell you some—”
Before I can finish the sentence, my mom makes her presence known. She appears behind me, holding a box of wine—the kind with the spout. “Hi, girls! Oh! This is so fun! Char-char, you have so many friends!”
“Lily, Sunny, this is my mom.” I’m not sure if this is much better than when the guys saw me naked surrounded by crazy sex toys.
Sunny’s eyes go wide, and her mouth forms an “o”. Lily nudges her, and Sunny clamps her mouth shut. Her bag-laden arm shoots out toward my mom. “It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Hoar.” Like Gertrude, she forgets that the H is silent.
Lily chokes back a cough, but my mom doesn’t so much as flinch. “It’s Whensday, darling.”
Sunny’s brow pulls down. “I thought it was Friday.”
My mom throws her head back and cackles. She sounds like a crow being eaten alive. “Aren’t you adorable? My name is Whensday.”
“Like the Addams’ Family girl?” Lily supplies.
“Almost! Except it’s spelled like ‘when are we going to go to the party’, not Wed-ness. Anyway, The Addams Family is my favorite movie in the entire world!”
Sunny looks appropriately confused by this explanation.
My mom claps her hands and looks to me. “We should have a movie night while I’m here and watch it together!”
“Sure, Mom.” Better than Dominatrix training videos, I guess.
I need to pull my mother aside and make sure she doesn’t say anything to my friends about my childhood, because that’s not something I’d like to explain. To anyone. Ever. I don’t think she’ll mention it, as we’ve spent the past decade pretending it never happened, but her behavior today is concerning, so I’m unsure what to expect.
“I wish I could hang out with you girls, but I have a client meeting, and I still have to figure out how to get there.” My mom waves her hand in the air, like the life of a Dominatrix is painfully trying. “Maybe you’ll all still be here when I get back.” She taps her lip. “Although, this client is a bit difficult, so I might be several hours.”
My mom sashays across the kitchen and grabs her bag. “I’ll give you your presents now, Char-char.”
“That’s okay, Mom. They can wait.”
She waves me off. “It’s so much more fun to open presents when you’re with friends, though, isn’t it? And I think your friends will get a kick out of this. We’re all adults here!”
“Sure are,” Violet’s expression is gleefully malevolent.
Usually when Darren buys me things, they’re professionally wrapped, or they come in a pretty bag with nice curly ribbon. Not gifts from my mom. They come in nondescript plastic bags.
I reluctantly peek inside the bag. Oh yeah, this is going to be . . . stranger than usual. I should’ve gotten out the tequila in preparation. I reach inside and pull out the least offensive item.
“What is that?” Sunny tips her head to the side.
“It’s a vibrating cockring. Watch.” My mom plucks it from my hand and puts it in Sunny’s palm before she turns it on.
Sunny’s face turns an even brighter shade of red. “Oh. That would feel . . .”
“Great, right?”
Sunny nods uncertainly.
“Go ahead. There’s more.” My mom motions for me to keep going. When I’m not fast enough, she grabs the bag from me and dumps it on the table.
I sigh as I stare at the weirdness in front of me.