Yet Another Conversation With My Mother

Scene: It's 2am on a cold, rainy night in Fairfield CT (unusual.. I know), and one day after the funeral of an old friend. I had just stumbled into my parents' house, bleary eyed (but sober) and desperate for a soft pillow, warm blanket and 3 hours of sleep, as my long flight back to reality would be leaving at 8am.

Background: I had spent the previous 3 days mourning and celebrating the life of an old friend with my oldest and dearest friends - some of whom I have been friends with for more than 30 years. Some are straight, some are lesbian, and to be honest, half the time I can't remember who is what. It's irrelevant. These women are my family. (I often think we are genetically linked as well, as pretty much all of us are, uh, well endowed in the breast department.)

As I tiptoed into my sister's old room (now the guest room), trying desperately to not wake my AGING MOTHER, I suddenly heard the creaking of my old bedroom door (now my mother's room). Fuck. She's awake. Sigh... I just want to SLEEP.

Marge shuffled past me and flopped down, unceremonously, onto the bed, and with here eyes closed and her head half buried in the pillow, she uttered that horrific phrase that for years gave me acute chest pain:

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

[FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK. Jesus Mary and Joseph. Why? WHY? I am so tired and so not in the mood for this kind of conversation. I know the tone -- it usually means she wants to probe into my personal life.]

"What?"

Silence.

"Mom?"

She's asleep. "oh for the love..."

"I'm not asleep. I want to know..."

tick... tick... tick...

Here come the beads of sweat forming on my forehead. Here comes the chest tightening, the suffocating.

"Are all of those women your ex-lovers?"

"WHAT!?!? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???"

"Are they?"

"Mother, for the love of god! NO!!!"

"Are you sure?"

"Wha-? Are you SERIOUS? AM I sure." [As if I had somehow forgotten if I had slept with, oh, 16 women.]

"Is Missy your ex lover?"

"Missy? Jesus. Mom, I havent spoken to her in over 20 years! What the hell is the matter with you. Why would you even bring her UP? She was my best friend in high school. Give me a break!"

[A thought bubble suddenly appeared over my head, reading what I SHOULD have said aloud: "The fact that she was sitting on my face every Saturday night notwithstanding... no, of course she wasn't my lover."]

"Well, which of those women are?"

"GOOD NIGHT MOTHER."

I promptly locked myself in the bathroom and refused to come out until Deb texted me on my cell phone from my parent's office asking me if I had fallen in the toilet. As soon as she relayed that the coast was clear, I emerged from the bathroom and ran into the bedroom. Deb was waiting for me, and apparently had only heard some loud mumbling through the walls. When I told her what had transpired she replied, through tears of laughter, "I was wondering what was going on. When I came in here your mother asked me 'How do you DEAL with her?!'"

"Are you serious?? How do you deal with ME?? AAARGH!"

So, now I am blogging, and my loving mother reads this blog religiously (you do, too, Mother, so don't deny it) and now she will have a fit and call me to ask me what I mean about Missy sitting on my face and if I am serious.

Yes. We had wild, crazy monkey sex every weekend. There you have it. The truth is out. I then left her and broke her heart so I could go onto my harem of softball players -- all 16 of them. Thats right -- I took 'em all on! Even the straight ones!

OK, seriously. No. And let's not open Pandora's box again, ok mom? And for the record, I haven't seen Pandora's BOX either, so don't even ask.

Posted by LA at February 11, 2008 09:56 PM