how it always ends

okay, since people are evidently confused by this post: what follows did not actually happen, except in my head while i was sleeping.

mom and i have been fighting again.

she and michael are sitting on the sofa in the den--the sofas we don't use anymore. maybe she had given me the gift first, and then michael came in and sat down.

the gift is an apology. we have been fighting again.

the gift is a series of of wooden frames. they are large, rectangular wood frames the color of unfinished pine. each frame is actually a set of two parallel frames about two inches apart. threaded between the two frames is a mass of colored string--it's almost like a loom.

the knots in the string tell the story.

the knots take on shapes like faces and actions and in each frame i find them doing something hurtful. to me. i look at every one and the knots are forming patterns that i can't believe. the stories they tell. every one offends me. we have been fighting, and this is her apology. i am enraged. i throw them down on the coffee table.

how can you give this to me?
how can you think this will make it better?

she doesn't say anything, just looks at me.

this is a horrible present. i hate it.

she watches me, silent, impassive.

i pick up one of the frames to show her. i tell her what the knots say.

she looks at me with flat eyes.

holding the frame, i point out the story. but now the knots are just knots. there's no story. no faces, no actions, no shapes at all. just knots in staggered rows.

she and michael exchange amused glances.

i ask her why she doesn't give a shit about me.

with her flat eyes.

then i beat the frame over the end table. i smash the wood down. this is a gift she made with her own hands. each frame, painstaking, woven, knotted. i want to hit her. i pick up a heavy vase, maybe it is metal or maybe glass. i almost hit her and instead i put it down. there is a little bit of water in the bottom of the vase.

i apologize for breaking the frame.

she picks it up eagerly, to see if she can salvage it.

meanwhile i am standing there, feeling insane.

Comments

[jacob]

anger's a hell of a drug, i know i'm addicted... what do you ladies fight about? you can tell me to fuck off and that it's not my business, heh. BUT! i have nine lives, well, eight and a half if you count that one time. and i'm curious. meow.

[ann]

1) her not-boyfriend fran has been staying at our house since the hurricane. five months. he sleeps on the sofa, despite the two empty bedrooms. no one can watch TV at night because he's sleeping on the sofa, but i never say anything. i am nice to him. even over new year's when his brother, sister, and niece, visiting from boston, stayed at our house for a week and i had no place to sleep. i am always polite and never complain to my mom about him. last week i told my mom i was coming in town. she said she'd be in chicago, and was i planning to stay the night. i said maybe. she said, don't you think that would be awkward, just you and fran in the house? i said, um, no. it's my house and my bedroom. why would i feel awkward? she said, well, i think fran would feel uncomfortable. please don't come home. more stuff is said after this, but that's the basic fight.

highlight: when she called back to say she'd changed her mind because the more she thought about it, the more she thought about how upset *fran* would be if he knew she'd told me not to come home.

2) on monday, lynne (my boss) gave me a full-on grant-writing assignment, as in i'm going to assemble my first complete grant. up until now i've been putting together bits and pieces, or editing other people's writing, or doing research. she said she was going to give me short, 'unreasonable' deadlines so that i can work on getting the job done without obsessing over perfection, which is my inclination. tuesday i had till 5pm to read a 41-page request for a Workforce Investment Act proposal and make up an outline for the application. wednesday i had to write up the needs section and turn it in at 5. wednesday i also had to bring my car to the mechanic in new orleans, and i had a doctor's appt at 11 down carrollton--my mom dropped me off. i didn't get started on my work till 1, which was okay, but pushing the deadline. my mom was going to pick me up at 4 from the coffeeshop so that we'd miss the traffic coming home. i figured i'd get as much done as i could and finish up when i got home--i figured i'd have a good half-hour to work.

my mom comes to pick me up at 4 and asks if we can run to the hair salon on magazine and 6th (far away)--she forgot her suit coat there the other day. i tell her i really have to get home to meet my deadline. we argue. i tell her fine, hurry. she starts towards st charles to go the salon, turns down river road towards home, yells at me that it's going to take an hour to come back and get her 'fucking coat'. i tell her none of this is my fault, and i have a deadline to meet. she asks me how come i'm not done my work yet and how soon did i think we were getting home anyway. she says why don't i just drop you at the coffeeshop and get you at five. i say yeah, and then we can sit in traffic all the way home. (to get the full effect you have to know what the traffic in new orleans post-hurricane looks like.) finally she drops me at carrollton and i walk back to the coffeeshop. i call catherine to come get me at five, call my mom to tell her that catherine is picking me up, then bust ass to get my work done. meanwhile she calls back twice, before five, because she wants to "talk about it."

highlight: when my mother calls me five minutes before the deadline, asks if we can talk about it yet, and when i say no, i'm still working, she says "well i'm going home to get DRUNK." i say: that's great, mom. i have to go. she says "you got drunk last night, why can't i get drunk tonight?" i say: i really don't have time for this. i'm hanging up now. okay? okay? okay.

[matt]

oh ann

[ann]

and by the way, the post is a dream, alright? i didn't actually go batshit on my mom.

[karen]

hey eatin' buddy, i'm glad we're friends. i'm sorry you've been going through some shit. i hope you have a wonderful day today and you get a lot done. much love!!

[hari]

you know, i didn't know that was a dream, and i was getting pretty seriously concerned. glad i read the comments.

but i admit, i'm still pretty confused.

you have a new job?

[matt]

i figured it was a dream when you started seeing things in the knots. i know how you loves your acid and all but you wouldn't drop if you knew your mom was coming over.