TREMORS FROM THE FAULT LINE

I was about to step out of my apartment this morning when my mother called. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have taken a reading of the family seismograph. I should have sensed the hot magma of insecurity bubbling just below a thin crust of tight lipped smiles. You see, RS and I are going to visit my parents next weekend. This may be a bit tricky because A) I am recently divorced and B) my mom is still hung up on my ex husband. That’s my perception in any case.

Calm indoor voices quickly changed in pitch and volume. Our words were heated water molecules screaming as they tried to escape through the small holes in the receiver like steam rushing through the spout of a tea kettle. At one point my mom was saying in her best abandon child voice how she was going to have to deal with her problems all by her poor, lonesome self. “Tough shit.” My cold response chilled even me. “Because that is exactly what I had to endure this past year as I was going through separation and divorce by myself with no support from you and dad.” She told me she lives in the past, like it’s an element of her personality that she can’t help. I told her that if she continues to live in the past, she is going to miss out on what is going on right now. When the decibels died down I told her how much I love and admire her and the reason that we confront and challenge one another is because we care for each other. We want to work things out. Human relationships are some of the most complex, difficult things we are going to have face on this planet. If you just stop communicating with someone you are just giving up. And that’s truly sad. (Hello, I'm Jerry Springer, and this is my closing thought.)

After I hung up the phone, I wiped the salt crystals from my cheeks and recited the family mantra: fucking shit, cock sucking mother fucking bullshit! Then I biked to the Y and had a manic swim because nothing fuels exercise like a pocketful of white hot anger.