Beth looked out over the landscape of freshly churned dirt and newly planted seeds. She was very proud of the little garden she had managed to carve out of her back yard, and was looking forward to the fresh homegrown vegetables it would soon yield. She also loved that it gave her an excellent excuse to wrangle up her nephew, Simon, for free labor.

He was a very good kid and she loved him like a second son, her own son having left two years ago to attend a college across the country. This was Simon’s senior year and as he was to leave soon, so she wanted to make the most of it.

That’s why she loved the gardening, because it gave her the perfect excuse to spend the quality time she so loved to share with him. They had always been somewhat close, but they had become thick as thieves after her son had left and Simon had progressed through high school. The gardening reminded her of the time she and her own son had shared when he was still home, and it had become her favorite part of the week.

Today that quality time was becoming a source of concern for her. Simon was past due to work and she had been forced to start without him. In the few weeks she had been setting up the garden, Simon hadn't so much as been ten minutes late. Now he was over a half an hour late and she was becoming very concerned. She didn't think he would blow her off and she knew he wouldn't do it without calling.

She was afraid that it might be more trouble at Simon’s house. As Simon's senior year had gone on, Jordan, his father had increasingly been putting pressure on him. It was now to the point that Jordan was regularly berating his son; she had been worried for some time that if it kept up, an actual brawl would break out between the two of them.

Her spirits immediately lifted at seeing Simon's monstrosity of a car wobbling down the road. He and his friends had salvaged the car and it looked like a rolling junk heap. The car was an eye sore and had caused more than a few fits of rage from Jordan, but despite herself she couldn't help but love the great ugly thing.

As the car hit the driveway with a hollow clunk Simon called out too her through the open windows.

“Hey, sorry I'm late.”

“Its fine,” she called back.

As the car rolled to a stop and he got out she could see he wasn't in the best sort of mood. As he approached her she looked and saw that his eyes were red.

“What’s wrong honey?”

“What? Ouh… Ah nothing, why do you ask?” his voice betrayed his shame at crying.

“Well your eyes are sort of red? Did you get something in them?” She knew very well that he must have been crying, but boys his age were loath to show, what they thought, was weakness.

“Ah no, it’s just my allergies acting up. I took a pill but it doesn't seem to be working, I was sneezing the whole way here.” He tried to sell the story but it was flimsy at best.

“OK, well if you need another just tell me and I will grab you something from the house.”

That was fine, he would tell her in his own time, and she was a patient woman.

“Now that we have that settled, where have you been?” she accused in mock exasperation.

“There I was, working my poor fingers to the bone, and where were you?”

“I.” She cut off his excuse.

“I’ll tell you where! Out doing god knows what with god knows who?” she proclaimed it into the sky in a way that couldn't help but come off as comical, adding in flamboyant hand gestures for good measure.

“So, what was it then: Girls, drugs, gangs, maybe a little of all three?”

He was grinning by now and surprised her by warping his arm around her shoulder. This was very strange behavior for Simon. Who, unless extremely upset, never so much as hugged his own mother.

“Well it started like this see.” He began, making flamboyant gestures of his own.

“This girl came up to me and said 'want some crazy memories.' To which I had no choice but to reply yes.”

She started to laugh. She loved the stories he made up on the spot.

“So the next thing I know we are in the middle of a speed boat chase and this girl is telling me to 'shut up and get down.'”

They had made it to the garden by now, but she didn't have the heart to interrupt his story. It was rare that the renditions got so outrageous.

“So I guess the moral of my story is that you shouldn't smack a cop on the ass.” He blushed a little at this last bit. He never swore around her, but whenever he slipped she delighted in teasing him about it.

“Really, on the Ass.” she made sure to emphasize the word.

He blushed all the more and looked away from her. Seeing his guard down she tousled his hair and laughed as he jumped away from her.

“Come on! Your hands are covered in mud!”

“So is your hair,” she said with a wicked grin.

He gave her an exasperated smiled in return. She was worried by this; in all the time they had been together he had always been hypersensitive about getting dirty. He had always done his best to keep mud off his person whenever possible. She knew that if he was letting dirt in his hair go unchallenged, he must have really been upset.

In truth she knew that he actually hated gardening. On the few times she had seen him doing any yard work at his house he was always muttering and cursing under his breath. She had long mused that he would have been more at home in a parking lot than the Garden of Eden. He only did it because she was the only person in his family, as far as she knew, that teased him and treated him like a normal person.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up and get to work. I've already got the corn rows lined up, but the tomato rows are getting weeds, you can start there.”

“OK, but let’s skip the preening. I figure I owe you an extra hour for being so late.”

She paused for a moment.

“That's the spirit! OK, you have your marching orders.”

They whiled the next three hours working and tending their garden. They normally only got in about one hour, and never more than two. However Simon was engrossed in the work and she couldn't help but think that it might be good for him. Not to mention the garden wasn't likely to get this kind of quality attention again.

Sadly for the both of them there was only so much work they could do at one time. After three hours they had exhausted any conceivable excuse to keep going and were left sweating, dirty, and leaning on each other.

She smiled as she looked at him. “So now that my nephew is dead and you are wearing his skin, are you going to take me to your leader?”

He sighed deeply from exertion.

“So now what?” he asked.

She noted the hint of sorrow in his voice and wished he would just tell her what was so wrong.

“Well I don't know about you, but I need a shower.”

She took his arm in hers' and leaned on him. Looking up into his face she saw that his hair, now extremely dirty and sweaty, had fallen into his face. She couldn't resist brushing the hair out of his eyes. If he had blushed at that, then he went absolutely scarlet when she pulled herself up and kissed him on the cheek.

“Ah! That's so gross, why are you being all weird?” He had a childishly sour expression.

She burst out laughing.

“What!?” he said.

Still hanging on him and between giggles she said “Your face!”

He rolled his eyes but didn't push her off. They went into the house like that, him looking tortured and her holding his arm and laughing.

“OK, you wait here and help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. I am going to get a shower. When I get out you can take one yourself.”

“I don't have any clean clothes.”

She looked him up and down. Sizing him up and taking in his measurements. It struck her that he wasn't just her little nephew anymore. He was more of a man now than a boy. She knew he still had some growing up to do, but he had started filling out his clothes nicely. His strong jaw line and wavy hair were very reminiscent of her son. His hair had darkened a little and now did a fair job of setting off his eyes. She had always taken pride in his eyes; they matched hers to a tee. She felt a little guilty, thinking that in another time and place he could have swept her right off her feet.

“I have some of Thomas’s old cloths in the closet, you can use those.”

“Thanks. By the way, what do you hear from Thomas these days?”

“Very little I'm afraid. It’s normal though, he’s a man now, doesn't need his mother checking up on him every minute.” She was saddened by her own words.

He made a noise of disbelief. “If you were my mother I wouldn't mind at all.”

He paused and added in a dark voice, “Sometimes I really wish you were.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “That's my sister you’re talking about.” but even as she said it she couldn't help but feel a strong affinity to him and his words.

“Sorry, I didn't mean that.” His eyes dropped to the ground as he said it.

She cupped his face in her hand and started to massage and tug on his ear with her thumb. It was what she would do with her own son, when he was really upset.

“Young man, after our showers are done you and I are going to have a talk about your so called allergies.”

He looked at her without emotion. Trying to play dumb she supposed.

She fixed him with a look that said he was going to comply. It was a look only a mother can properly give.

His face sagged dejectedly, “OK.”

He plopped down at the kitchen table in the way all teenage boys seam to do. She wished that she didn’t have to make him confess to her, but she knew that he didn’t really have anyone else. His parents were out of the question, as they were almost certainly the source of his woes, and his friends would just give the same old ‘fuck the old people’ rhetoric teenagers had been giving since the beginning of time.

“OK honey, I am going in for a shower, you make yourself something to drink at least.” She placed her hand on his shoulder as she said it; she was disheartened to feel him stiffen under her touch.

“It was a million degrees out there and we didn’t really take any water breaks, so if I come out to find you dead of dehydration and stubbornness I will be very cross with you.” She worked at making her voice light and joking.

He only gave a sad grunt to acknowledge.

She didn’t think there was anything more to be gained by talking to him further.

Simon watched her leave out of the corner of his eye. He was so angry with her, why did she have to bring up the fight, and how did she always know every little thing about him. She was the only person he knew that could just pull his whole soul out and put it under a microscope. Even as he had the angry thoughts there was a nagging feeling in the pit of his chest that told him just how much he needed her.

“Great, now I can’t even think badly of her without feeling all…” He didn’t know the right word.

He turned to the kitchen and made himself a glass of ice water. He was surprised at how thirsty he was once he started to drink. He downed another glass and a half before feeling satisfied and full. He sat at the table and started to idly run his fingers through the condensation that had gathered on the cold glass.

However before long he was bored and feeling a little apprehensive and ran his fingers through his hair. His hair felt gritty and he darkly thought that this whole gardening things was about the stupidest thing he had ever done. As far as he could see the only upshot was his tan. Still he couldn’t deny that he did it because he liked his aunts company, and while the fact irked him to no end, he knew that he would do just about whatever his aunt told him to.

By this time he had started walking to the living room in the center of the house. He was just wandering aimlessly and started to look at the pictures on the walls and tables. They were just one of the many differences between his house and his aunt’s. At his house there were maybe three pictures in the entire place. Here there were dozens of them, just in this one room. They weren’t out of the ordinary, just family and friends at various events. Quite a few of Thomas from different ages, he even showed up in a few, and he felt an odd sort of affinity to the ones he was in. He liked that, in some small way, he never left the house that had come to symbolize someone who really loved him.

He was jarred by his aunt’s voice calling out to him.

“Simon. Simon, come help me with this thing.”

He started walking toward her voice but he couldn’t shake feeling he had been caught in something crude and dirty, the feeling followed him into his aunt’s room.

He entered her bedroom to see her raped in a towel and standing on the tips of her feet, reaching for a box in her closet. He looked at her and, maybe for the first time, saw that she really was one of the most naturally beautiful women he had ever seen. Her long sandy blond hair, perfect womanly curves, and full and beautiful face showed a woman that was the picture of mature sensuality. It wasn’t that she was showing herself off or uncovering too much, indeed she had probable been covered less when they were working outside. However the towel just seemed so provocative to him that he couldn’t help but stare openly.

He stood frozen for a few seconds before his aunt jogged him to attention.

“Simon? Why are you just standing there? Come and help me with this you dope.”

As he started walking he was made aware of the throbbing erection he was sporting. He panicked for a moment but thought that as long as he didn’t face her directly she wouldn’t notice.

“What am I getting?” he said as he walked up, careful not to show too much of his forward profile.

She stepped back and pointed with the hand that wasn’t keeping her towel up.

“You see that box?”

“This one?”

“That one!”

“This one?”

“That one!”

“This one?” he was openly teasing her now.

“God will punish you young man!” she couldn’t help but laugh as she said it.

He half turned to look at her but his eyes became focused on something just past her.

“What’s the matter?”

“I… I just saw that picture on your night stand.” There were two pictures, one of her son, and the other of Simon.

“What? Ouh, that’s just my two best boys,” she said warmly.

“Now go get that box!” She swatted at him playfully.

He made at getting the box, but still wasn’t doing well.

“God, there isn’t a man alive that can find his own ass.” She moved up next to him and added her hands to the fray.

With no small amount of struggling and uncoordinated swatting they managed to get the box down. By this time her hair was all over her face, and her towel had come askew.

Simon practically threw the box with the effort of prying it free. The box hit the ground and Simon slammed into her from the motion of throwing the box. He knocked her back and she had to grab onto him to stop herself from falling. She over compensated and instead ended up plastered to him to stay up.

Simon was making a stupid, sort of scared face at her.

As she began to move away she realized why he was doing an impression of a halfwit. His manhood was pressing very insistently just below her navel. She was suddenly aware of how much her towel had fallen and loosened in places.

“OK Simon, I need...