Clifford by D.A. McCall

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(excerpt from "Clifford")

Dwelling on the park flasher triggered an involuntary shudder.  Did I say, “Go away, mother,” out loud? In any 

case, she didn’t budge. The old man’s Playboy prompted me to bring in the mail. I went through the magazine looking at the pictures, what else? I came back to a real fly, Miss July. I eased into the bathroom to spend some quality time with her. Needless to say, the last thing I expected to hear was, “Is that your father’s Playboy?” “Mother? I didn’t know you were home? Don’t you ever lock the bathroom door? At that point, I noticed all she was wearing was a towel that she promptly let fall to the floor. She put her hands on her hips and turned  to face me. “Not bad for an old broad don’t you think?” I was dumbfounded, was she the same species as Miss July? The situation wouldn’t have been much worse if she had walked in on me. I felt revulsion when she retrieved the towel. 

I slipped the Playboy back into the stack of mail. Maybe I’m gay? Maybe I had homosexual tendencies? I gasped, recalling the time I’d tried Mother’s eyeliner. I liked how I looked. A confused afternoon gave way to a sleepless night. A lingerie ad in the morning paper put me back on the narrow path. 

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