I went out "the country" weekend with my mother in law. Just her. This is not an unusual occurrence and proceeds a little something like this.
propriety
I do this every time. Every single time I go out to "the country" thinking that it will be, actually, in fact, just hanging out and lazing around the house no need to bring anything special we're just going to cook and enjoy ourselves and not, we're going to drive into East Hampton and I'm going to follow her around to stores that sell $25 hand soap and $350 cardigans wondering why on godsfucking earth I fell for it again and left without at least washing my hair. Such that the shitty little finicky gay boy behind the counter folding the $450 jeans with platinum inlay tissue paper will openly smirk at me with exasperation and pity and I will want to sidle up to him and say "fuck off Frenchie, I know you bought your jeans at American Eagle".
But instead I have to suffer standing in front of those full length mirrors in jeans that are too big for me a white long sleeve tee with a coffee stain on the elbow (I have no idea) and flip flops waiting for her to decide on Mustard or Mud. Or maybe both? BECAUSE WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HANGING OUT AT THE HOUSE. While shit head with a pompador behind me shakes his head and my mother in law, who has given me the kind of stuff that could have funded a small nation, sifts through the hangers wondering why her daughter in law can never figure out how to put together decent outfit already.
glass house
My mom calls. Often she feels left out and far away, living an entire continent and half an ocean away. She is in an unsettled place, getting ready for retirement, watching my niece and nephew grow by inches and feet, helping my father, her ex-husband, say goodbye to his parents, her ex-in-laws, over the last few months. She is resltess about life and not wanting to let anymore time without each other accumulate. So she calls. Because she knows I am out there, because she knows what I'm up against. We talk. About the kids and our plans for this summer, when will the house will done, when will the construction will even begin, when will you be in New Hampshire? All questions I don't know the answers to, and she knows it, but we talk about it anyway, because it makes her feel included in my everyday life. I hang up the phone and smile, thinking about my mom, so far away, plotting our final escape as far west as it will take us. My mother in law says:
"God, I can't believe you have to put up with someone who talks so much. I mean, she talks all the time, does she ever stop talking? I could never put up with someone who talks so much. I mean it just seems like all she does is talk and talk and talk and talk and it must have been so hard for you, you must be very scarred".
"Um, no, not reall-"
"I mean, she's so self centered, all she thinks about is herself. I would never do that to my children. I would never call them up and ask them so many questions. I mean I just think if they want to tell me they will. I'm sure it's because I had boys and your mom was never close with your brother, so she never learned these lessons, but I would never go about interacting with my children, how do you get a word in edgewise?"
"Well, actually-"
"I mean, I could just never be with anyone like that. Just the other day I had to tell _________ that I can't spend time with her anymore because all she does is talk about herself. She calls me up and just starts talking about herself and it's like and I just can't have that. I have too much going on in my own life to have to listen to everyone else's problems, you know? I mean, what with everything going on with ________ and then there was the _________ I just don't want to do it anymore. I can't see how you do it. I wouldn't do it. If it were me I woundn't do it. I mean I know you feel like you have to do it but I woundn't do it I don't know how you do it. You must be very scarred."
"Yeah, it's really not like-"
"I mean she's a lovely woman and all, but if she were my mom? Well."
"....."
stones
My husband's best friend died eight years ago. From a drug overdose. His family is a Very Big Deal. Like in a Global way. Every year people fly from all over the planet to gather at his grave and remember him. It is many things. It's a still sorrow existing in dozens of people who come, year after year, to remember their friend, their cousin, their nephew, their brother. It's a hard beauty, surrounded by so much spring. It's a lot of laughter as people gather together whose lives have otherwise splintered apart, it is a reunion, a recollection, an embodiment of joy and remorse. I have been twice now, and each time I walk away thinking it is a thing of beauty, it is an amazing feat and a testament to the strong bonds of love and sorrow.
She asked me if she could come with me this year, she hadn't been in years. I was going alone, Andy back in California tying up our loose ends. I said yes, of course, how lovely. I had no idea.
Saturday night, before leaving the next morning to the cemetary.
"God I do not want to go to this thing tomorrow"
"...?..."
"I mean, this is so fucked up. This whole thing is so fucked up. His parents killed him, they're the ones to blame, they probably want to die from the guilt. It's all their fault, if they had ever said no to him once in his entire life he'd still be alive today".
"...."
"I mean, it's so absolutely fucked up. Everyone around him is to blame. Every single one of his friends is completely to blame here. If they had just picked up the phone once, just once, and told his parents, he'd still be alive today. I will never forgive any of them for not speaking up."
"Um, actually-"
"I mean, whatever. He killed himslef. There's nothing any of us could have done. He was totally self absorbed. He thought he ruled the world. He was a little Prince and untouchable. There's nothing any of us could have done to save him. It's all his parents fault".
"...."
sunday
Driving home, at last, after its all over, all done, listening to New York NPR. There is a discussion on Fur: Couture At The Cost Of Morality? There is a man on the panel, giving out all the names of "fabulous" designers who design without fur, would never use fur, whom all the stars love and adore.
A woman interrupts him. "Yes, but David, I had this problem just the other night. I was going to the Opera and thought to wear my grandmother's fox stole. I mean, it's already dead, why waste it you know, AND BESIDES, David, if you can't wear fur WHAT WILL YOU WEAR TO THE OPERA?"
At which point I rolled down the window, unbuckled my seat belt, and jumped into traffic.
"...?..."
"I mean, this is so fucked up. This whole thing is so fucked up. His parents killed him, they're the ones to blame, they probably want to die from the guilt. It's all their fault, if they had ever said no to him once in his entire life he'd still be alive today".
"...."
"I mean, it's so absolutely fucked up. Everyone around him is to blame. Every single one of his friends is completely to blame here. If they had just picked up the phone once, just once, and told his parents, he'd still be alive today. I will never forgive any of them for not speaking up."
"Um, actually-"
"I mean, whatever. He killed himslef. There's nothing any of us could have done. He was totally self absorbed. He thought he ruled the world. He was a little Prince and untouchable. There's nothing any of us could have done to save him. It's all his parents fault".
"...."
sunday
Driving home, at last, after its all over, all done, listening to New York NPR. There is a discussion on Fur: Couture At The Cost Of Morality? There is a man on the panel, giving out all the names of "fabulous" designers who design without fur, would never use fur, whom all the stars love and adore.
A woman interrupts him. "Yes, but David, I had this problem just the other night. I was going to the Opera and thought to wear my grandmother's fox stole. I mean, it's already dead, why waste it you know, AND BESIDES, David, if you can't wear fur WHAT WILL YOU WEAR TO THE OPERA?"
At which point I rolled down the window, unbuckled my seat belt, and jumped into traffic.
