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.”
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