I need a vacation bad. I also need a man. Jamaica sounds lovely. But I can't find a friend to go with me. My son volunteers and I'm doubtful about sharing a room with him, but he insists. One thing leads to another, and all I can say is, what happens in Jamaica, stays in Jamaica...unless it doesn't.
Soon we’re on the beach, breathing the clean air, listening to the surf roll in and out, and life seems grand. I kneel beside Mom’s lounge chair and ask what she wants to drink when a girl walks over and says, “Ma’am, is it okay for your son to take a walk on the beach with me?”
Instinctively, and crazily, I put a hand over Mom’s mostly naked chest and kiss her square on the mouth…with tongue, for good measure. She’s stunned. Actually, so am I!
“She’s not my mother. She’s my lover. I prefer older women who aren’t like silly girls that ask stupid questions. Get lost.” The poor girl runs away crying.
“Finn! What the hell was that?”
“That was me, your lover. You left your son back in Baltimore.”
Her face relaxes and then a smile sneaks across her lips, and I wonder if that means she’s accepting of our new roles.
“If I could, I’d have sex with you right here and now. But I am going to be your lover for this trip, Mom. Don’t even think about trying to stop me.”
“Son, that’s incest, and it’s wrong.”
“Not in Jamaica. What happens in Jamaica, stays in Jamaica, mon.”
She starts laughing, and it pisses me off.
“What’s so damn funny?” I ask, not even cracking a smile.
“You are! I know you’re joking, Finn. Otherwise, it would just be too awkward.”
“I’m not laughing. And you won’t be laughing tonight, either.”