I wake with a start, and jump up to check my watch.

I sigh with relief, glad that I’m not going to be late. But it’s still a pain to have to wake up so early, and I wish I could stay asleep longer.

Then I remember that the last two times I woke up, Monica was in my bed, and she certainly turned having to wake up under bad circumstances into a very good thing. I wonder where she is.

I know she wouldn’t have let me sleep in. But I didn’t expect her to get up before me. I hope that she isn’t bothered by my mom’s presence in the house.

I hurriedly throw on some boxers and head out to the main part of the house. To my surprise, Monica and my mom are chatting at the kitchen table. They have eggs, bacon and toast in front of them.

“Good morning, Ramsey,” Monica says, with a sweet smile spreading across her face. Her hair is wet, so she must have showered. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“Um. Sure.”

I shrug.

I’m not used to eating breakfast at home. Mom doesn’t cook, and I rarely do either.

“You didn’t have many groceries, so I ran across the street to the mini mart,” Monica says.

Crazy, I think. What time did she get up?

Then I realize that my first question wasn’t “What is she still doing here?” and I have to make sure I don’t laugh out loud. I don’t usually like girls to stay over, so having groceries to accommodate their breakfast cooking isn’t high on my priority list.

But with Monica, I seem to be breaking all my rules. We had a real conversation; we cuddled; we even listened to Bowie together; and now she’s taken over my kitchen. But I love it. I don’t know who the hell I’ve become, and I don’t even care.

“Impressive,” I say, as she lifts food from the skillet and sets it down in front of me. “Thank you.”

She winks at me. The sexy twinkle in her eye reminds me of how she looked this morning, with my cock in her mouth. I wish I could stay there— or inside her— all day long.

A blowjob and breakfast? I think. I’m a lucky guy.

I almost wish I could tell Jensen and Harlow about this. But it’ll have to remain our little secret.

“I like your new girlfriend, Ramsey,” Mom says, as she sips on her coffee.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Mom.”

Great. What if Mom says something to my brothers? I guess they would just think it was any random hook-up, and they probably won’t think anything of it, even though I don’t usually bring girls over here. My random hook-ups usually live in Albuquerque and we go to their place, unless I’m training out of town.

Monica is just any random hook-up, I remind myself. I don’t know why I keep forgetting. In fact, she’s the best kind of random hook-up: one who not only is okay with not seeing me again, but who can’t, since she lives so far away and I’m being deployed.

It’s almost too good to be true. I should be relishing in the fact instead of forgetting about it or even being disappointed about it.

“Monica told me you boys went to Louie’s last night,” Mom said. “And I was just telling her about my favorite bar, which isn’t around anymore. The Silver Fox. Remember, Ramsey? Your dad and I used to go there all the time.”

I shovel some food into my mouth, purposefully trying not to listen to or acknowledge what my mom is saying.  My mom likes to re-write history. My dad never went out drinking with her.

He was a family man, a very busy, hard-working man. She was the one who liked to abandon her responsibilities and party all the time, with men who were definitely not my father.

I remember a time during my youth when we were all supposed to go camping. Mom never came home that day, although we waited and waited for her to show up.

Finally, at about six o’clock, I said, “Well, we’d better get a move on it, if we’re going to be able to pitch the tent before sundown.”

My dad had looked confused, as if he didn’t know whether he should keep waiting on Mom to magically arrive and come with us. That’s pretty much how he had looked for most of their time together that I can remember. I had to be the one to take charge and say we had to leave now or never.

To be honest, I hadn’t even wanted to go on the stupid camping trip. I knew it would be rather miserable, with Dad worried about where Mom was and with Harlow and Jensen angry at her for not showing up and angry at Dad for caring so much.

But I had my younger brothers to think of, and I knew better than to wait around on Mom rather than getting a move on in my own life. That’s something my dad never seemed to be able to learn. And it’s why I avoid relationships or any kind of commitment that could leave me hanging on and waiting like a puppy dog for an owner who was never going to come home or never going to stick around.

Now, I glance at Monica, who is wincing at me in an apologetic way, but I know it’s not her fault that she got trapped into listening to my mom’s yapping. My mom will say anything to make herself sound better. And at this point I’m starting to think she really believes some of her lies, because she’s starting to sound pretty senile.

“It sounds like it was a fun place,” says Monica, obviously to fill up the silence that ensued after my mom’s little rant.

“It is,” Mom says. “And it’s been so long since I was there. Maybe Ramsey will go there with me before he leaves.”

“Mom, you just said yourself, it’s closed. That bar hasn’t been there for a long time.”

A look of confusion crosses her face, but it’s soon replaced by her normal, stubborn features.

“I know that, Ramsey. I meant we’ll go to the new bar, that the Silver Fox turned into. That’s what I meant.”

“There’s no bar there, mom. It turned into a liquor store and then the whole building was knocked down and they put up a Starbucks. You know this.”

She shrugs.

“Well, just take me somewhere. That’s all your old Ma wants.”

“Mom, you know I’m not taking you out drinking. You can’t be drinking, period.”

Her bottom lip juts out, as if she’s going to cry. I don’t have time for these antics. We’ll be late if we don’t leave in fifteen minutes.

“We’ll talk about it later, Mom,” I tell her. “Now’s not the time.”

I scarf down the rest of my eggs, telling Monica, “This is delicious!”

I remind myself to talk to Mom later about the no-drinking-while-she’s-living-with-me rules. And to call back some of the assisted living places I’ve looked into, so that I can get one lined up for her before I’m deployed. I know she doesn’t want to go, but such is life, when you’ve sufficiently pissed off all your kids except for the older one, and also when you’re probably a bit too much for even him to handle.

I think I’m just used to a lifetime of taking care of her as well as everyone else. The camping trip wasn’t the only time Mom let us down, of course.

There were so many times she didn’t show up when she was supposed to, and I had to take her place as best as I could. At Harlow’s wrestling matches. Jensen’s little league games. Helping them get ready for Prom. Taking care of people is just what I do, what I’m used to— but I’m kind of at the end of my rope when it comes to Mom.

I head for the shower, telling Monica I’ll be out in five.

“Sure,” she says, and begins gathering up the dirty dishes.

I shoot her an apologetic look, and gesture at my mom as if to say, “Sorry for leaving you with her.”

But she just smiles at me, and winks, like, I got this.

She sure does. She’s got a lot of things. I’m a bit sorry that I only get to see her in action for such a short amount of time. But then I wonder what’s gotten into me. I’m Ramsey Bradford, and I don’t fall for the women I sleep with.

So what the hell am I doing now?