“If I had known it was going to be casual….”
I’d answered the door wearing a fuchsia tank top and low-rise jeans. My mother stood there in a suit and heels, a hand pressed to the lapel of her jacket.
“No, no. I’m just not ready yet,” I lied.
So as she sat down to check her email, I scurried into the bathroom and dug out my cosmetics case. Make-up free was not going to fly tonight. The night before, I’d stayed in, communed with my couch, volume IV of Nip/Tuck and some cheap Chinese takeout. As I wound my hair into a bun and touched up my eyeliner, I started to feel a little irritated. Such fuss. For dinner. With the woman who used to wipe my snotty nose.
I wanted my pj’s and an unhealthy dose of MSG.
I quickly changed into heels and a wrap and when I emerged from the bedroom, my mother looked much less on edge. A little fuss goes a long way on the Mom Comfort Meter.
We had a nice walk, dinner in three courses on the West Side and polite conversation avoiding any touchy subjects. I sipped at my mango martini. She drained a glass of wine. We ate perfectly cooked steak and triple chocolate mousse and laughed about easier times.
I know I have a short fuse with my mother, or more accurately, a very small tolerance for our differences. I don’t wear it well; it’s pouty and unattractive. I felt badly for having been so irritated over something as simple as getting a bit dressed up for dinner.
Before she left, we sat in my living room, Sir Hal draped on my lap purring as he played with my earrings.
“He adores you,” she said, running her fingers over his tuxedo black fur.
“Sometimes I think he only loves me because I feed him.”
“Sometimes, I think the same thing of my children.”
She laughed, winked at me and gathered her things to leave. At the door, she kissed me on the nose, like she has since I was very small and said goodnight. As she headed back to her hotel, I headed into the bathroom to wash my face. Sir Hal sat beside me on the sink, purring and swatting at my hair.
I filled Hal’s food dish and headed to bed with His Excellency at my heels. I thought about what my mother had said, and was pretty sure she and I both knew it wasn’t true.
It is most definitely NOT true as you both are innately lovable.
Mothers are hard to understand, well mine is at least. We have good days then not so good days.
Sometimes she say things just to get the attention. I hope I am not that way when my daughter is older.
May I just say…
I think your writing is Amazing, Really in Every Way. And That’s all I have to say about it.
I never really understand those women who say their mother is their best friend. This, however, I understand.
I have a feeling that most people say those sorts of things and then laugh because somewhere, somehow they actually felt them. But the laugh is the other side of the brain saying “Of course it’s not true – is it?” Being someone who has trouble talking about sensative issues, this is often how I’ll broach subjects not usually broachable.
Either way – I love your writing and your style and honesty puts me in the livingroom with you and your mom. Your love does shine through in your writing because you really do paint her with tender words – I see the love in the truth you share. Thank You
This was so poignant and true however i must confess that i was a bit distracted after I read the words “mango martini” (YUM!)
This post is so exquisitely rendered. Beautiful writing! And it’s so rare to read about this kind of mom/daughter angst– I can totally relate.
i am so the same with my mother. i can’t help it.
I am addicted to your site as I am your writings. Lovely style, lovely site, and what I imagine must be a lovely person.
Hope you don’t mind but I insist on linking you:)
Mother/daughter relationships are so complex, and yet so special. You verbalized so much of the complexity, and showed why they are so special, in this one story. So eloquent.
I was so going to say the same thing about a) people who say their best friend is their mother and b) mango cocktails. I may not be original, but clearly I’m in the majority here.
I hate to seem unoriginal, but I agree with everyone on the site. You are such a gifted writer and you brighten our day.
I have been so proud of you and your quest with the plagerizing girl. Go get ‘em. We know you are mad as hell, but trust me when I say that we are ALL just as outraged. Call it loyalty at it’s finest.
Very well put