My mother left when I was 5. I don't know why. My father never spoke about her after that. He didn't speak much to begin with— he was always a quiet man. If there was some hidden, passionate side to him, my mother had taken it with her. He went through life by simply doing the motions. My childhood was loveless, but safe. I grew up in the suburbs of Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. Dad kept me fed, clothed, and in public education until he finally kicked the bucket during my senior year of high school. I inherited his house, and enough life insurance money to eke out a living for a few years while I figured out what to do with myself.
Mostly, I ended up wasting time drinking and playing grindy Korean online games. At the ripe age of 23, I had never learned how to cook. I subsisted on a diet of whatever frozen meals I could get from the nearest gas station and infrequent take-out food on special occasions. I didn't have any real friends, only online acquaintances from my MMO guilds. I told myself that I didn't need companionship to be happy. Still, it was a lonely existence and had a certain monotony to it. Routine can be comforting, and I had become used to wearing this routine.
When I heard a knock at my door, it came as quite a surprise. It was mid-afternoon and I had just recently crawled out of bed. The statuesque woman standing upon my doorstep knocked again, louder this time. She looked like someone "on-the-run". Her eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses and her hair likewise concealed beneath a bulging beanie. Her outfit was complete with an oversized trench coat, like a caricature of a cartoon spy. The only attribute this woman's attire couldn't hide was her stunning height. She was tall, very tall. The towering woman leaned close to the door and spoke, her voice oddly musical and resonant with harmonious tones.
"Barry? May I come inside? It's hot, dear."
I opened the door wide to let the stranger enter. She walked past me without so much as glancing down. As she passed, her wide and rolling hip made solid contact with my midriff. I was knocked off balance and staggered into the wall. This woman had some serious heft to her movements. If she noticed the impact, she gave no indication. It intimidated me somewhat, and I swallowed down my complaint without speaking. I followed behind her.
She turned around slowly, taking in every inch of my house. The way she moved was predatory and seductive all at once. I found myself staring. She reached out to touch a vase sitting atop my desk. Her fingers lingered briefly on its surface. Then she picked it up and examined it closely. I watched as she ran her hands along the length of the vase, admiring the craftsmanship. Her movements were slow and deliberate, almost languid. She set it down, then spoke again.
"Do you know who I am, Barry?" The tall woman asked, slinking back to loom over me.
"No..." I stammered out a reply. There was something so familiar about her, something I just couldn't put my finger on... Oh shit.
"Oh right, I'm wearing my disguise. " She demurred, tapping her chin. "It's Mommy, sweetie. I'm back."
I watched as Corel tugged off her beanie and let loose an avalanche of thick, red locks tumbling down her shoulders.