LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You’re stuck in the past in some small way today, and you might have to struggle to come back to reality. Even the hottest ringtone isn’t guaranteed to get your attention at this point, so watch out.
Family brunch proved more dysfunctional than usual. Estelle and Lucy showed, their conversation going as deep as “Pass the salt” and “Whose earring is this?” All around awkward. Marella wasn’t having any of it. She grabbed me as she headed out to the back deck for a smoke. “Christ, what the fuck is with everybody?”
I filled Marella in and she rolled her eyes. “How the hell did I get stuck in the world’s most boring soap opera? Why doesn’t one of them just choke the other so this fucking fight is done with?”
When Marella starts to sound (more) like a sailor, it means she’s not getting any. While I’ve proven I can go months, even years, without sex, Marella falls apart after a week. A spurned Marella is a spewing Marella. I shouldn’t have, but I went there. “How’s the dating going these days?”
“Fuck dating! All men are pricks!” So predictable. I had to giggle. “Fuck you! What’s so great about your dating life?”
Nothing. Joke over. Ken hadn’t bothered to call after the first date. That’s what I get for thinking I had the upper hand. A questionably worthy guy got to take control and authoritatively say I was the unworthy one. I headed inside, done with the fresh air. The cigarette smoke was ruining it all anyway.
When the meal was served, Dad’s seat remained empty. Mom explained, “Your father insisted on going in to work today. I swear they take him for granted.” She got it half right anyway.
Where was Dad? It didn’t surprise me that he was a no-show for the family meal. He wouldn’t have been great company—not that Marella and the feuding Lucy and Estelle were. He wouldn’t want to fake it in answering the offhand “How’s work?”
Back home, there was only a voicemail from Jenny saying she was coming over from the Sunshine Coast at some point this week. Could she stay at my place?
I’d call her back later. For the time being, all I could do was yank the phone cord out of the outlet. Its silence was killing me.
HOW THE HELL DID MAY COME ALONG SO FAST? I HATE MAY 2 MORE THAN ANY OTHER DAY OF THE YEAR. AT LEAST THIS TIME IT HAD THE COMMON SENSE TO BE COLD AND RAINY. GLOOMY WEATHER FOR A MISERABLE OCCASION.
FOUR YEARS AGO TODAY, MOM DIED. SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE MADE A FULL RECOVERY. FUCKING CANCER! GONE AT 56. AND MOTHER’S DAY IS A WEEK AWAY. MORE MISERY. NORMALLY SARA & I GET TOGETHER ON THE 2ND—GO FOR A WALK OR GRAB A COFFEE. ANYTHING SO AS NOT TO FACE IT ALONE. SHE’S TOO CONSUMED W/FAMILY DRAMA. I DIDN’T DARE CALL.
I’M HAVING A HARD TIME COPING. IF I SO MUCH AS BLINK, I VISUALIZE MOM. NOT THE TIMES WHEN SHE WALKED US TO SCHOOL OR MADE US CHOCOLATE SUNDAES. ALL I SEE IS A CLUMP OF HER HAIR IN HER HAND OR HER BODY HOOKED UP TO MACHINES.
FOUR YEARS AGO. WHOEVER SAID, “TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS” WAS A FUCKIN’ MORON. WHAT KIND OF WOUNDS DID HE KNOW ABOUT? MOSQUITO BITES? STUBBED TOES? CANCER STOLE MY MOTHER. SHE CAN’T BE REPLACED. SHE CAN’T BE FORGOTTEN.