Mom made no sound. Sam made no sound. The two of them seemed as if they were asleep, but the faintly trembling bedclothes left me puzzled. The window in the bedroom wasn't open, so the gently swaying blanket couldn't have been moved by the wind.
"Hmm..." I saw Sam's body shift slightly under the blanket, followed by a muffled groan from Mom, her face buried sideways in the pillow.
"Sam... you're not being good..." I heard Mom say, her fair face hidden behind a curtain of long hair.
"Mom... I'm scared... In South Africa, when it thundered... my mom would always hold me while I slept... I'm really... scared..." After Sam spoke, his voice actually trembled a little.
"Mom... didn't I let you sleep with me tonight?" At that moment, I saw Mom's delicate, pale hand emerge from under the blanket, brushing the hair away from her face and tucking it behind her.
I finally saw Mom's snow-white face. Her eyes were open, looking at Sam in front of her.
"Hmm..." Suddenly, Mom let out a muffled groan, her outstretched arm clamping the blanket against her chest.
"Sam... hmm... no... you can't do that..." Mom said something, and the blanket shifted slightly.
"Mom... I need a hug... or I won't be able to sleep..." Sam said.
"...Hmm..." Mom didn't speak, nor did she move.
"Okay... but... not like that... no... be good..." What was Mom saying no to?
After speaking, Mom released the arm that had been clutching the blanket to her chest, then hugged Sam over the blanket, patting his back.
"Thank you, Mom," Sam seemed very happy, snuggling closer to Mom's chest. Mom's delicate hand, which had been patting his back, paused for a moment before slowly continuing to gently pat Sam's back through the blanket.
Was Sam really that scared? Had he been struck by lightning as a child?
Definitely not. If he had been struck by lightning, he would have long gone to meet his God. It must be that Sam had some unforgettable experience with thunder when he was young. Looking at the blanket, Sam seemed to be curled up, holding onto his mother, like a little monkey in a zoo clinging tightly to its mother. I actually felt a bit sorry for him.
However, from the vent, perhaps due to the contrast with Sam's dark face, the exposed part of his mother's back and shoulders beneath her fair neck appeared even more delicate and smooth.
After a while, Sam actually buried his face under his mother's neck. I wondered if his big mouth touched her fair skin. Although I wasn't too keen on the idea of Sam sleeping while holding his mother, there was no other choice. Sam was genuinely scared, and Mother didn't refuse him either, so I could only sympathize with Sam and support Mother's decision.
Sam probably didn't do anything inappropriate, or else Mother would have given him a good slap. Ever since the Spring Festival holiday ended and work resumed, Mother had scolded Sam quite a few times.
Seeing that both Mother and Sam were silent, and Mother had stopped patting Sam's back, her eyes closed tightly as if she had fallen asleep, drowsiness slowly crept over me. I needed to go downstairs and sleep too. What kind of person would I be, sneaking peeks at Mother like this? If they accidentally saw me, I wouldn't be able to explain myself.
I took one last look through the vent at the seemingly sleeping Sam and Mother, then decided to go downstairs and rest.
But with that glance, I noticed the blanket covering Mother move again—this time clearly. Then, Mother's hand, which was outside the blanket, actually grabbed Sam's back.
"Mmm... Sam... don't..." Mother lowered her head to look at Sam, whose face was pressed against her neck.
"Slurp... slurp... slurp..." I actually heard what sounded like the noise of someone sucking on something.
"Mmm... you... mmm... a little... ah, not good..." Mother slightly parted her lips, her arm reaching for Sam's head and gently pushing it away as her fair chin lifted upward.
"Slurp... slurp... slurp..." Sam didn't respond to Mother, but the sound of sucking continued.
Wait, Sam's face wasn't pressed against Mother's neck but rather below her collarbone. Because Mother had lifted her chin, I could see her long, fair neck.
"Mmm... slurp... Mom... slurp..." Sam was saying something, his face buried in Mother's chest.
"Mmm... Sam... mmm... you... not good... no... mmm..." Mother's body slowly twisted, her fair arm tightly gripping Sam's head in the darkness.
"Mom... slurp... slurp... slurp..." Sam mumbled something, and the blanket over Mother's chest shifted.
"Don't... mmm... Sam... didn't we agree... not allowed... mmm..." Mother seemed to be in discomfort, her words broken and intermittent.
What was Sam doing that made Mother so uncomfortable? Wasn't she the one holding him?
Sam didn't reply to Mother. Mother seemed to be in distress, yet she didn't scold him. Strange.
"Ah... no... Sam... mmm..." Mother's body trembled slightly, and her fair arm, which had been tightly gripping Sam's head, slipped back under the blanket.
Not long after, I saw a dark hand emerge from under the blanket, holding a piece of white fabric in its palm.
What, what is that? My heart is racing, but the room is too dark, with only a faint light seeping into the bedroom from behind the curtains.
"Sam... hmm... you... went too far... smack..." Mom suddenly stood up, raising her fair arm and slapping Sam across the face.
"I haven't even settled tonight's matter with you yet! How dare you push your luck!" Mom erupted.
Heh, this is the mom I know. But Sam is so pitiful.
And what did Mom mean by "tonight's matter"?
I was stunned by this sudden turn of events. Mom, now standing, was wearing a thin white camisole. As she grew angry, the snowy fullness of her chest swayed restlessly beneath the fabric.
"Mom... I'm sorry... I... I didn't mean to..." Sam also stood up, still holding a piece of white fabric—whether it was Mom's or his own—and bowed his head before her. He was dressed in pajamas.
Seeing both Mom and Sam in their sleepwear, I felt an inexplicable sense of relief. I just wondered if Mom was wearing a bra.
"Tonight, Sam thought... Mom was comfortable... I'm sorry... Mom..." Sam continued, head lowered.
"..." Mom didn't speak, just stared at Sam as he bowed before her.
The bedroom fell into silence. After a moment, I noticed the anger on Mom's face slowly fade, and the swaying of her chest gradually stilled.
"Give that... to me..." Mom said softly, her tone betraying no emotion.
"..." Sam remained silent, still bowing his head, and handed the white fabric to Mom.
Mom took it, glanced at it, then looked at Sam, who was still standing with his head lowered. Finally, she sighed.
Then, she placed the white fabric beside the pillow and turned back to face Sam.
"Does it hurt..." Mom asked, her voice unexpectedly gentle, like when I was little and she'd scold me for misbehaving, only to embrace me tenderly afterward.
It had been so long since Mom had given me that feeling—maybe because I'd grown up. How nostalgic. I looked at her.
"...It doesn't hurt... sob..." Sam lifted his head to look at Mom, and I realized he was quietly sobbing.
"..." Seeing Sam cry, Mom seemed at a loss.
"Mom, sob... I'm sorry, sob... In South Africa... sob... when it thundered... sob... I'd hold onto Mom there to... to sleep... sob... I'm sorry... sniff... Sam... misses... sob... Mom..." Sam said, rubbing his eyes with his dark hands.
"Mom... isn't blaming you... for holding me... that..." Mom said.
"But... Sam shouldn't disobey Mom... or take out Mom's... that..." Mom looked at Sam, speaking haltingly.
"I'm sorry... sob... sniff... Mom..."
"Boom... crack... rumble rumble rumble..."
"Ah... Mom... Mom!..."
Suddenly, another deafening roar echoed through the sky. Sam cried out and threw himself toward Mom at the head of the bed.
Mom was startled too. Seeing Sam, frightened, dive straight into her arms, she instinctively wrapped her arms tightly around him.
"Mom... scared..." Sam curled into a ball in Mom's embrace, his voice trembling slightly.
"Don't be afraid, Mom's here, don't be afraid," Mom seemed to have forgotten her earlier anger, forgotten what Sam had just done to her, and instead held him gently, softly stroking his head and soothing his back.
I feel that it must be my mother naturally exuding a maternal love, a mother's care for her child.
I think my mother is really wonderful. Although she is usually strict with both me and Sam, her heart is still very gentle, right?
Hehe, on this rainy night, the corners of my mouth lift slightly.
"Mom..." Sam just buries his face in my mother's chest, his two hands holding onto her back, while my mother gently pats Sam's back.
After a while, Sam seems to have fallen asleep. I see my mother lay Sam down on the bed. Sam is a bit heavy, so my mother has to let him lie at the head of the bed, and then she lies down beside Sam.
"Mmm... Mom... don't leave Sam... Sam knows he was wrong..." As soon as my mother lies down, Sam hugs her again, talking in his sleep.
I see his two dark hands reach into my mother's white camisole, and his face buries itself between her two snow-white breasts.
Having witnessed Sam's earlier actions, I am no longer surprised. Sam just misses his mother, holding onto her like a child.
At this moment, I actually feel sorry for Sam. So he also has such vulnerable moments, far from home, alone in a foreign land, missing his mother so much.
"Mmm..."
Just as I think this, a muffled sound, deeper than before, escapes from my mother's nose.
I look toward the bed. Sam's two arms are wrapped around my mother's back, and his mouth seems to be biting something.
"Mmm..." My mother doesn't push Sam away but instead closes her eyes, facing him.
Sam seems to be biting the white camisole on my mother's chest.
After a while, my mother pulls the blanket from beneath her and covers herself and Sam. Since Sam is at her chest, the blanket covers his head, leaving only my mother's snow-white profile buried in the pillow.
"Mmm..." My mother seems to be trying hard to restrain something.
"Mom..." A little later, Sam pokes his head out from under the blanket and whispers something into my mother's ear.
Wasn't Sam asleep?
"Mmm... no... ah..." My mother lets out a cry.
Then my mother is turned over by Sam, now lying with her back to him. With this movement, the blanket is completely thrown off. I see my mother wearing a pair of long pajama pants, and Sam also wearing pajama pants.
Thankfully, Sam isn't just wearing underwear.
"Ahh..." Sam hugs my mother from behind again, lying on his side, and then pulls the blanket over them.
The bedroom falls silent again. After a few minutes, my mother and Sam should be asleep this time.
The soles of my feet, which I've been standing on tiptoe, are numb and almost unable to hold on. I have to slowly lower my feet, finally feeling a bit more comfortable.
But just as I relax, I see movement under the blanket again. This time, it's Sam moving because I see one of his dark hands, from the middle of the blanket, throw something off the bed. It looks white, but I didn't see it clearly because the movement was very slight. By the time I noticed the throwing motion, the object had already fallen to the other side of the bed.
Then Sam pulls the blanket back over himself, his face now even more directly pressed against my mother's tender, pale back.
"Mmm..." I think I hear a very faint nasal sound from my mother, but I'm not sure if I heard it correctly.
Then, the blanket begins to sway slowly again, this time much more noticeably than before.
Mom was still lying on her side, as if tacitly allowing Sam to hold her from behind, her face buried in the pillow while Sam's cheek pressed against her back.
Sam, really—why did he have to hug Mom so tightly?
"Boom… rumble… crack…" Another deafening clap of thunder shattered the silence of the bedroom, startling me so much that I nearly fell off the crate. Luckily, I managed to grip the edges of the wall vent tightly.
No sound came from the bedroom, only the quilt on the bed continued to sway. After a while, I saw Sam reach out and pull the quilt over both Mom and himself.
Damn it—with Sam doing that, I could no longer see him or Mom. Only the shaking of the quilt grew slightly more pronounced.
"Mmm… don't… Mom…" It sounded like Mom's voice.
"Mom… I'm… scared…" Sam's voice was louder, and I heard him telling Mom again that he was afraid.
Mom and Sam didn't speak anymore, or if they did, it was muffled under the quilt, and I couldn't make it out.
The quilt kept swaying, especially around the middle of the bed, as if moving rhythmically.
I figured Mom must be comforting Sam, holding him and patting his back gently, just like she used to do for me in middle school when we slept together. Her gentle pats would always lull me to sleep.
It seemed Sam had almost fallen asleep but was startled awake by another clap of thunder. Soon enough, he'd be asleep again.
I was right. After a while, the quilt covering the two of them stopped swaying. Mom and Sam must have fallen asleep.
I shook my head helplessly. What was I even doing? Mom had long treated Sam like me, as her own child—even scolding him more harshly when he acted up. That was just how my mom was.
I watched for a while longer, but Mom and Sam didn't move again, staying hidden under the quilt. I glanced at my numb, propped-up feet, slowly crouched down, and sat on the crate to rest for a bit until the feeling gradually returned to my feet.
"Mom… please…" Sam's muffled voice came from under the quilt, but I couldn't make out what he was saying.
I quickly stood on tiptoe and peered through the vent.
"Mmm…" A muffled sound came from under the quilt.
Then the quilt began to sway gently again. After about two minutes…
"Ah…" I heard it clearly this time—a muffled sound from Sam. I remembered hearing the same sound when he first came to stay with us, when he had a stomachache in the middle of the night and rushed to the bathroom.
A little later, the quilt was slowly pulled down, and both Mom's and Sam's heads emerged from underneath.
Mom was still lying on her side, seemingly asleep, while Sam's face rested against her fair back. The quilt no longer swayed. Sam sat up, grabbed a few tissues from the bedside, and disappeared under the quilt again. A moment later, he tossed them into the trash bin beside the bed. Had his tears gotten on Mom?
That must be it—he'd been so upset earlier.
When Sam sat up, I noticed something—Mom's fair, beautiful back… Was her white camisole missing? Was her back bare?
Just as I tried to get a clearer look, Sam pulled the quilt over Mom and himself again. I must have imagined it. After all, Mom had just scolded Sam not long ago. Soon, the steady breathing of both Mom and Sam filled the bedroom.
I was deeply troubled by what might have been happening under the covers earlier, but there was nothing I could do. I didn't dare knock on the door, and besides, it was likely just Sam being scared and clinging to Mom.
Seeing that Mom and Sam had fallen asleep, I quietly climbed down from the crate. My feet were so numb they hardly felt like my own, but I still made my way down. My behavior must have seemed quite odd.
I slowly carried the crate back to its original spot in the laundry room and then made my way back, pausing briefly at Mom's bedroom door before heading downstairs.
Back in my room, I felt as though something was missing. Looking at Sam's empty bed, I realized I wasn't quite used to his absence.
After a while, as the rain outside gradually softened and the thunder faded away, I drifted into a drowsy state. In my haze, I thought I heard the bedroom door open, followed by rustling sounds from Sam's bed below. Sam must have come down from Mom's room. With the thunder gone, he had returned to sleep. Strangely, I felt a sense of relief settle over me.
Was I worried about something? I didn't know. Only a heavy drowsiness, like an anesthetic, pulled me into the darkness.
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