It wasn't easy, growing up motherless. Maybe it screwed him up more than his father expected it. His father, who would never speak badly of his wife - Cal thought his father saw her as a victim of sorts, a poor, abnormal soul, because only a sick woman would shoot her husband and abandon her children. His father, who thought a Cantonese cook would somehow be a replacement mother because he could tell great stories. He chuckled, balling his fists as he finally looked up on the building where he had learned his mother now lived.
A brothel.
This was way beyond the pale, even for him. Granted, he had taken to going out at night, drinking and even gambling, but... Now that he was finding himself in front of a real life brothel, where his mother was supposed to live - maybe even to run the place... He was slightly nauseated, lost... No, afraid. He was afraid. And this was why he decided to go along with it.
Inhaling sharply, he headed for the door, avoiding closely some drunkard who was stumbling, his footing long lost, through it. This didn't bode well. But he had gone too far, he was too close now, to give up. The atmosphere inside was decadent and warm, redolent of cheap perfume that made his nose crinkle and heavy alcohol. That at least was familiar. He was greeted almost immediately by a thick, gaudily made up redhead wearing only a corset and what looked like a much too long belt, or a much too short skirt.
"Pretty boy!", she exclaimed, a unrefined accent he couldn't quite place. Maybe she wasn't even American, he pondered. Her hand flew up to pat him in the shoulder, for Cal really was a pretty boy and a nice change from her usual clientele, but he recoiled in fear and quite frankly, horror. Not the type to get angry, she laughed instead.
"Not what you are looking for, handsome? No worries, we have something for everyone here". He didn't know if he nodded or shook his head.
The redhead turned on her heel and he was relieved to see her disappear. She was soon back with a glass of some strong smelling liquor, and a young, slim thing who would never have been pegged as a prostitute had he met her outside the brother.
"Meggy. She's new here", the older redhead stated. Cal wasn't stupid enough not to understand that she was probably selling her that way to every man. Meggy, if that was her name which he doubted, was certainly not new. He assumed old men probably chose her to chase down their own youth into her beautiful body, but she looked innocent enough not to frighten off first timers.
The woman with the red hair was slightly unsettled as he didn't show more enthusiasm, especially after downing his glass. He felt he had to explain. Maybe words would flow easier now.
"I'm not here for that... I'm looking for... my mother".
"Oh, we like experience, do we?", she winked. He blanched, then turned red, then blanched again. This wasn't what he meant. But before he could explain he was looking for his real mother, and not a mother figure for the night, she had grabbed his arm and was pulled him along, much stronger than she appeared. He even wondered, horrified, if this could be a man in a disguise.
But before he could even phrase this to himself, they were climbing stairs, turning left, then right, then knocking at a door. When told to come in, the redhead opened the door and pushed him in. "He's been asking for Mother!", he or she exclaimed from outside, before closing the door behind him. Caleb thought he was going to die.
A blond, slim woman, fully dressed thank God, was writing at her desk. She barely looked at him. "Come and sit, young man", she ordered, and he found himself obeying.
She finally glanced toward him and he glanced back and they both understood and this was how Cal met his own birth mother.
"So which one are you?", she asked, softly.
He didn't undetstand at once.
"Aaron, or Caleb?"
So she knew their names... She had left before even that was settled, though.
"I'm Cal. Caleb".
"Oh, the rowdy one. I should have known". Her smile was wistful. He wondered if his reputation was so bad she would have heard of him.
"Aaron would never come here", he stated, defiant. She only chuckled.
"So you're a big boy", she teased, her tone not exactly motherly. He blushed, because he somehow sensed this wasn't quite alright. He didn't ask why he was brought to her when people assumed he wanted a mother figure. He didn't want to imagine her fulfilling that role for anyone, in such a way, especially not now that they were isolated in her office and the noise coming from downstairs was almost easy to ignore.
He didn't reply.
"What do you plan to do now that you are here?", she asked. He shrugged, misunderstanding.
"Aaron can never know". Aaron would break. He wasn't that far from beaking point either.
"This isn't what I asked", she scolded, colder. Then she suddenly changed her tune. "Something else to drink? Your glass is desperately empty. I have this delicacy from overseas, brought just for me...". By some client, he assumed, and he tensed. She laughed, deliberate.
"No? So now that you are here...?". Understanding finally dawned on him, for Cal was no innocent, but even braggy, dishonest, bully boys found some concepts to be way beyond the pale. His glass was shaking in his hand, unless it was his hand shaking. The woman who used to be Cathy, and was now Kate, giggled and removed it, half standing in the process. She put it down on the desk in a clinking noise.
"I see you still need directions, young man. Go sit on the bed". His world collapsed. A bed? He saw none, until he stood up, almost tripping onto his own feet, and turned around. There was a bed indeed, much too big for even a couple, and in strangely gaudy colors. This wasn't an office. He plumped down on it because his legs couldn't carry him.
She finally approached. She was smiling and it frightened him.
"We are more alike than you know, you and I. My handsome son, all grown up, or almost...". Her voice trailed down as she settled down on the floor, between his legs. He was unable to move, caught in her net. "You just need a little more education. Don't fret! Mother is back...".
His hands grabbed at his knees so hard his knuckles were white. Her own hand was getting much too close to his groin, and he felt his buttons being undone. He wanted to close his eyes and not see, but he stared at her instead, and she held his gaze. He almost stood up, startled, when she touched him until she put her other hand on his knee and he obeyed, once again. "Do not worry, this won't get you a baby brother...". Cal thought he couldn't stifle a sob at that.
When he finally left the building, dawn was starting to colour the sky with its beautiful hues, but he could only see darkness. He had actually drunk much less than usual, but he was staggering like that drunkard. He bent over and threw up in the gutter, but nothing came out. He wanted to cry but nothing there either. He remembered her parting words.
"Regards to your father, dear. And if I may, one last piece of advice: never go looking for answers you cannot stomach".
He tried to blame his father, his brother, though it was useless. He had brought this on himself.