Mom speaks

The tee shirt was one she hadn’t worn in years, it was to her chagrin a little tight as she pulled it over her head, and she had abandoned her shirt and bra at the stairs, her father busying himself with shutting down the sprinkler system. She walked to the den door and paused to collect her thoughts, remind herself of the interminable patience required when dealing with her mother when she was upset and had to smile that while she had mastered it, mostly, Anne had always failed miserably. She inwardly winced at this since Anne lived across the street and this may explain why her mother was marginally crazy after years of dealing with Anne’s melodrama.

Her mother had taken up the habit of retreating into the sunken den whenever she became upset; this was initially caused by her children’s problems after most of them had grown up. Even her father did not intrude without prior notice given or something really pressing.  Over the last few years the den had become not only her mother’s sanctuary when life got too much for her but also her audience chamber where the penitent (her children) went to seek her wisdom and forgiveness.

Vanessa paused at the door then cautiously peeked in to find her mother in her usual spot- the couch. She stepped inside but waited by the door silently until her mother would notice her and permit entry. Her mother sat in the center of a baize couch that face the door, a coffee table sat in front of her strewn with the remains of used tissues from what Vanessa gathered were in fact only a small part her own offenses. This must have been a bad week for children where her mother was concerned.

Nervously, Vanessa cleared her throat. Her mother gave a small start and looked up at her, misery painted on her small face. Vanessa felt the pangs of guilt race into her gut as she surveyed the streaks in her mother’s makeup and swollen puffy eyes.  Vanessa opened her mouth to begin her litany but then stopped at her mother’s look of puzzlement.

“Mom?”

“Why are you wet?” her mother’s answer cut her off, “it’s not supposed to rain. Is it raining?”

“Dad turned on the sprinklers…”

“What does your father…” but she trailed off as if the realization of what her husband had just done finally dawned on her. “-have to do with- oh, okay…I see.”

“Mom.” Vanessa said as she carefully laid the towel down on the couch- where she would eventually sit. “I am sorry about upsetting you but;”

“Well you should be!” her mother interrupted again, here we go again, Vanessa thought resignedly.  “Never in all my years have you ever…EVER… talked to me in such an insolent fashion! Your own mother!”

“Mom.”

“I think after all I have done for you. Sacrificed for you.” Her mother bit off each phrase with expertly timed outrage. In short, Vanessa knew that her mother intended to pick up right where she had left off during the last infraction they had had three years ago. It was funny how one person could store up resentment over the smallest thing and run on it for years.

“Mom.”

“What have I done wrong, so wrong that you would hang up on me, not once but twice in the same day?”

“Nothing, it’s just that;”

“That’s right, nothing, I have done nothing of the kind and, and, and…” her mother wrung her hands as she tried to catch up with her point. “But be caring, compassionate, attentive, supportive, friendly, forgiving, loving, open-minded.”

“Perfect.”

“Perfect, gracious, thoughtful, polite-“her mother was holding up fingers to count her virtues.

“Overbearing.”

“Overbear-“She finally stopped, maybe because she had run out of things to list or that she had realized that her daughter was interjecting words.

“Mom.”

“I am not finished!” She held out one commanding finger then sat back to take a breath and perhaps began again at the beginning of her rant.

“Margaret.”

Her mother froze her mouth open but no words came out.

“Margaret.” It was her father.

“What?”  Her mother asked, but she did not lower her hands

“Why don’t you give Van a chance to explain herself?” her father said from behind her.

Her Mother opened and closed her mouth a few more times, then closed it, nodded and sat back on her couch. Her father touched Vanessa on her shoulder softly as he walked past. He crossed the room and sat down next to her mother. Vanessa cleared her throat.

“Mom, first let me say I am sorry about the swearing;”

“Cussing. It was cussing.” Her mother interjected.

“Margaret, please.” Her father said as he mother was about to continue, he took both of her hands in his own lowering them to her lap as he looked into her eyes for a time.

“Cussing.” Vanessa conceded.

“It wasn’t at you or about you, it was just- well it was just the whole situation.”