When I was growing up, my Mom was my world. My dad wasn’t around much. My brother is eight years younger than me. So for a long time, it was just me and her. My strongest memories of her, though, are the bad ones. I don’t know why. You know, every birthday and Christmas, she would take me aside, just before the presents and threaten me: “I don’t care if you get a present you already have or if you don’t like it. You say thank you. We can return it later. So help me God, if you don’t say thank you, I will take back all of your presents.” And then she gave me this look that said “I am not fucking around.”
My mom, the Dragon Lady* as I’ve called her for so many years, isn’t speaking to me presently. I am not 100% sure why. Words were exchanged between her and I. “Ungrateful” was thrown around a lot. I blame Oprah. See, Oprah, in her laughable attempt at seeming human, decide to forgo her usual “Favorite Things” show (in which she rains gifts upon an unsuspecting audience) and instead blabbered on about making scrapbooks, and sharing memories. Blah blah blah. As “compensation” I guess you could say, she offered a free down loadable CD on her website. My mother, ever the Oprah zealot, was quick to down load and wanted to burn the songs to a CD. Not quite knowing how to go about that, she woke me from my (semi-drunken) sleep and asked (very nicely, but loudly) for me to help her. She had Christmas music playing in the back. As I groggily answered her questions about file names and folders, I heard that Mariah’s classic” All I Want for Christmas is You” started to play. I quietly sang along, as images of the Boy popped in and out of my mind. It was quite nice; Imagining spending a holiday with him. Le sigh. But my small daydream was interrupted by my mother’s question, “Do I want to make an audio CD or a data CD?”
I mean, really? I thought that was obvious. S0, I, very rudely I do admit, told her that she wanted to make an audio CD, wasn’t that obvious that she wanted to make an audio CD? God. I was mad at her, mad at her for breaking my fantasy. Silly, I know. But when all you have are those fantasies, you learn to cherish them. I didn’t apologize. I couldnt’ swallow my pride. This was Thanksgiving morning. The tension never let up and spread through my family during dinner. She had divided us, with her talk of ungratefulness and disresepct. Her sisters, quick to agree, had tunred on us, the children. And Thanksgiving was horrible. Not one person was speaking to everyone. If that makes sense. This carried over into Friday. But finally, my Mother and I talked. I apologized. All seemed right with the world. We went to Sam’s. She brought me back to school, bought me groceries.
Then, on Monday morning she sends me this horrible email about how ungrateful I am and how she won’t let me ruin her life anymore. I have my suspicions about why she sent me this email, but I can’t be sure. So, she told me she wasn’t goimg to help me anyore. Financially, emotionally, nothing. She would provide a roof and her (small) part of my tuition. That was it. No other money, no car, no rides home from the train station (therein cutting off my ability to come home as much as I like). I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to yell, I wanted to cry**, I wanted to hurt her, but I wanted to ask her why? I didn’t understand it. The severity of her punishment, the loss I felt. Not for my possesions, not for the money, for my mom. I feel like I lost my mom. And that rejection hurts more than any man. the Boy could tell me a thousand times he hates me (God! I cringe at the thought) and it wouldn’t hurt as much losing my mom this way. I lost her as my friend.
And it’s all my fault.
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*This nickname started in true adoration and teasing. It seems all too true these days, though.
** I don’t cry. At least not in real life. I’ll sob for Meredith Grey, but the Bestie could die and I wouldn’t shed one tear. I’m just weird.
