Mother, Dear

For God’s sake, he was an auto mechanic and now he’s a diving instructor? He’s gone from an automotive workshop to working retail for a shop specializing in diving equipment? What kind of a working future is that?

Look, Mom, that’s his choice. He’s always been interested in scuba diving, he’s got a wet suit, he joined a club years ago that meets and dives in old quarries. It’s his focus.

His focus? To make an outstanding contribution to society and earn a respectable livelihood through scuba diving instruction?

What’s the matter with you! It’s his life, his choice, and I’m all right with it.

Are you? Are you really? It’s all right for you to be the sole bread winner, what does he contribute?

What he can, Mom. He doesn’t make much of a salary.

Tell me, tell me a little more about that. I remember when he moved in you said on his mechanic’s salary he could only give you $200 monthly toward the food bill. That wouldn’t even cover a portion of what the man eats.

None of your business.

You made it my business. You told me about it.

Only because you said everyone needs to be able to vent. I was just thinking out loud. You know I do that, you know I say things to you that sound bad, but I get over them.

Why should you? Why should you ‘get over them’?

Because that’s my life, that’s why. If it bothers you all that much I won’t say anything to you anymore. I’d rather that than you come at me like this.

I’ve got eyes, haven’t I? I can see what’s happening, even if you don’t tell me.

Don’t come over so much, who asks you to?

I happen to want to see my grandchild.

Look Mom, you’ve lived your life the way you saw fit, and I’m just doing the same thing, for myself.

Not doing an awfully good job of it, sorry to say.

That’s your opinion, just your own, and I haven’t asked for it. Besides which, you haven’t done so well for yourself in that same department, have you?

There’s a kick in the face, thanks very much. I didn’t leave your father, he left me.

Don’t I know it. Because, as you well know, you’re too controlling, too manipulative, and now that he’s out of your life you try to control mine.

Come on, that’s hardly fair. I have your best interests at heart. It breaks me up to see you working so hard. You’ve got a kid to take care of, a home, and a full-time job, and all those animals you keep rescuing, it’s crazy. On top of it, you’ve taken in another stray.

He’s not a stray, Mom. He was living with his parents. And working. And contributing to them.

Right. At 47 he was living with his parents. Right off the bat, there’s a signal that something isn’t right.

Have it your way. You always do.

Do I? Really! And how’s that?

Has anyone ever been able to counter anything you’ve ever said, without being pounced on? It’s your way and there is no other.

Your father’s got through to you. That’s him, talking through you. That was him back there when you said I was controlling and manipulative.

Well, weren’t you? Aren’t you right now, barging into my life, uninvited, criticizing me and the man I happen to be living with? You made it impossible for Dad to continue living with you, so you’re alone. I have no intention of living alone.

Why not? There’s a whole lot less stress on the nervous system. A lot of satisfaction in knowing you can do all the stupid little things you depend on a man to do. Marriage - or, in your case, ‘partnership’ is a farce, in any event. You don’t need a man around, you’ve just convinced yourself you do.

My mom, the man-hating tigress, grade A dyke. Say meowww!

That’s perfectly unnecessary, and does you no credit. I’m no lesbian, never have been oriented that way, and you know it.

Maybe I do, but sometimes it seems you’re the gay crowd’s best friend.

To each their own, they don’t bother me, I don’t bother them.

Right. That’s all right. But guess what, Mom, I want a relationship with a man. I need to feel cared for, appreciated, valued. For my womanhood, if you want to put it that way. But for me, it’s the total intimacy with a man, it adds immeasurable value to my life. You wouldn’t know anything about that, I’m sure.

You think? You think you know it all, don’t you?

Well, I do know more than you think I do. I do know that Aunt Dora sided with Dad, said she couldn’t believe how long he’d held onto that marriage, how destructive your attitude was.

She said that? Why am I not surprised. She always had this soft spot for your father, thought he walked on water.

Mom, I know why she thought that way. She loved him, she thought she would be the one he would want to marry. Instead you came along, and he couldn't resist your invitations; drifted over to you. She’s never forgiven you.

Don’t I know it. But then your aunt always was a loser. Think you’d rather have had her as a mother than me? Your Aunt Dora? That sad-sack misery of a woman?

Now you’re abusing her. Is there anyone, anyone at all beyond your criticism?

Sure, I just have to think about it.

Think about it, Mom, then let me know. Dad hasn’t found any fault with Steve, he thinks he’s all right.

Figures. Besides, he has no idea, none whatever about how you’re living, what you’re putting up with. I do. And it bugs the hell out of me.

That’s my business, Mom, not yours! I’m a big girl, capable of making my own decisions about my life.

What about Morgan, what about your child? She resents Steve’s presence. Did you even ask if she was all right with his moving in? No, didn’t think so. Don’t you think that kind of thing is important for her welfare, that she be comfortable with decisions you make that impact on her life?

She’s just a kid. What does she know? This is my life, Mom, and I’ll live it as I see fit. And as things stand, I’m perfectly happy, living with Steve.

The auto mechanic or the scuba-diving instructor?

Both! What’s the point of this. Leave off, will you? Don’t you have anything better to do?

Well, I won’t leave off. He’s a mechanic, but he’s absolutely useless to you even in that department. You’re the one who told me you had to shovel that huge driveway of yours by hand because there’s something wrong with the snow-thrower, and he wasn’t around the night of the storm to help, because he had to attend a scuba-diving seminar. What kind of priorities has the man got? You haven’t the physical stamina to do things like that, not with everything else you’ve got to do. Exactly the same in the summer when you’re the one mowing the lawns, never him. What the hell does he ever do?

He does what he can. I don’t demand anything of him. It is my house, after all. I’m the one responsible for its operation.

Give me a bloody break! You can’t rely on this guy for anything. He lives here, makes himself completely comfortable, eats your food, warms your bed, and he has no responsibilities. That’s equality? That’s opportunism, clear and simple. He’s using you.

Think so? That’s your impression and I won’t dignify your comments with a response. That’s enough. I refuse to continue this useless, dispiriting conversation. You’re an irreversible cynic, and I’m not.

You will be, dear. You’ve a few more years to go, and you’ll get there.