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CHAPTER – 28: Moms and Sons (1)
On the way to the city center, my mind was still reeling, especially from the last few hours and I almost got into an accident in the busy traffic. Luckily, the traffic was moving at a crawling pace, and the worse that could have happened was a fender-bender. Still, it was enough to take my mind off the morning, and concentrate on the road. To tell the truth, I hated the traffic around the city center, especially the taxis, which seemed to increase in number every passing day, and the way they weaved in and out in the traffic, changing lanes, and cutting in without a signal or any warning. The city where Dana lived was worse. In the last few years, I had been there a few times, visiting relatives, spending a few days. After the first day, I was so fed up with the traffic I left my car at one of the auto parks and used the taxis or public transport wherever I went.
Luckily, Dana was living close to the airport, in a part of the city quite a ways from the city center, in a suburban neighborhood where new apartment complexes were being built. The ring around the city led almost all the way to her neighborhood; well, except for the bridge that connected the two halves of the city. Unfortunately that bridge was very busy most hours of the day and night, and consequently a major bottleneck. I was hoping I wouldn’t have too much trouble if and when I visited her, especially if I could avoid the rush hours. In fact I was looking forward to seeing her place, and perhaps spend time with her, but I missed the sea too much, and I was anxious to visit my beach to see if it was still there for me... still an anchor in my life.
After wasting more than an hour in traffic, I managed to find an empty spot in a car park, and walked to the nearby shopping center. The next several hours, I moved from book shop to book shop, browsing and making my selections. After I was satisfied with what I had, I did some window shopping, checking electronics stores, and on a whim checked out a newly opened music store. I ended up buying a few CDs. Some were my usual choices such as Queen, Chris Rea, Guns ‘n Roses, but there was one new addition; Vladimir Vysotsky, a Russian bard. I had heard a few of his songs in a movie, and was captured by his singing style, even though I didn’t understand a word. It was the way he sang that left an impression on me; the harsh, guttural Russian flowing out in an almost agitating style. Of course, it also had something to do with watching Mikhail Baryshnikov dance to one of his songs. When I had first heard him, I managed to find translations of his songs, and as I expected, they turned out to be political, even though the symbolisms were very subtle. That explained why he was considered an outcast by the powers that be, and a dissident in his home country.
Finished with my shopping I stopped at a cafe, and had a light brunch, since I skipped breakfast in the morning, and then drove to my parents, to put in an appearance.
* * * * *
Mom was pleasantly surprised to see me. Dad was busy reading a book in the master bedroom. They had already had their lunch, but Mom asked if I wanted a bite. I wasn’t hungry since I had already eaten, but Mom’s cooking had always been something I could hardly refuse, even on a full stomach. So, I settled for a small plate of chicken salad—Georgian style—one of my favorites. After cleaning out my plate, I washed the plate and the cutlery, while Mom watched with amusement. Seeing her expression, I asked what was on her mind. I wasn’t prepared for her answer.
“I’m glad you can take care of yourself, but sometimes, I regret I taught you about cooking, cleaning, and other things.”
“Why is that, Ma?”
“It made your life easy as a bachelor, perhaps too easy. I’m afraid you’ll have trouble with women. You might end up being too picky, and critical of their abilities when it comes to cooking or managing a home.”
“So, you’d rather see me unable to fend for myself,” I replied. It was a cheap shot, but I just couldn’t keep from responding.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Son. And don’t you get wise with me!” she admonished.
Flashing her eyes at me momentarily, she softened her expression, and smiled. Still, it was enough to make me feel like a little kid. Trying to regain my composure, I reached for my pack. Smoking doesn’t make anybody look adult, but it was an almost instinctive response to the way I felt.
“And you should quit that habit. It’s not good,” she said.
“Really? Why do you smoke so much?” I retorted, trying to even up the situation, as she kept the pressure on me.
“Because of you, Mitch,” she came back, trying to make me feel guilty.
“That’s not going to work, Ma.”
“I know,” she said, with a sigh, before adding a cryptic, “Maybe something else would help you quit smoking.”
“Like what?”
“Like a good woman.”
Ohh, shit...
I shrugged, instead of giving an answer, and lit my cigarette.
“Light me one, too, Mitch.”
As I passed her the cigarette, she asked about the party. “How was Sarah, and the party?”
“She was OK, and the party was good... was very good. I even got to meet Kathy’s boy friend,” I replied, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“She was OK? Just OK?” she retorted, raising an eyebrow in a mocking fashion.
“All right! She was more than OK. Happy?” I returned with a smile, giving up the pretense.
With a soft laugh, she said, “You have to admit, she’s changed.”
I shrugged, but Mom wasn’t going to let it go so easily. “So, did you talk?”
“Yes, we did. She kept me company, and I was grateful for that.”
“Grateful?”
“You know how I feel about some of the girls. I don’t like their brazen ways. Sarah’s presence helped keep them away.”
“I see...”
“And the party was good. She gave a great recital. Her voice hasn’t changed, it’s still excellent.”
“So you had a good time?”
“Yes.”
“I’m surprised,” she said in an enigmatic tone.
“Huh! Surprised with what? That I enjoyed the party?”
“I was hoping you would. Nothing else happened?” she asked in the same tone.
“Huh! What do you mean?”
I was suddenly anxious at what she was getting at.
“She didn’t flirt with you?” she asked after a long pause.
“No, not really. She was friendly. We’ve known each other for a long time,” I replied as casually as possible.
She was watching me carefully, and that made me uneasy. I went over our exchange trying to figure out if I had given something away. I realized I had made a minor mistake. I haven’t responded to her with a question, such as why she thought Sarah would flirt with me. Collecting myself, I remedied the oversight.
“Why? Did you expect her to flirt with me?” I asked, as if surprised at the notion.
“As you said, you’ve known each other for a long time, and Sarah’s changed from the shy, self-conscious girl to a confidant woman,” Mom replied pointedly.
“I guess, I’m still Mitchell, Kathy’s brother,” I replied with a wry grin.
She had a cryptic expression on her face, but after a momentary pause, she changed the subject. “You said you met Kathy’s boyfriend?”
“Yep.”
“What do you think?” she asked in a conspiratorial tone.
“I think he’s all right,” I replied with a serious tone, keeping a poker face.
“All right? What kind of an answer is that?”
“Haven’t you met him? You must have your own impression,” I said, feeling a bit anxious, and also trying to protect Kathy’s interests.
“Yes, I did. I’m curious what you make of him.”
“Is this some kind of a test?” I asked.
“It’s not a test, Mitch. I’m just curious,” she insisted. I could see she really wanted to hear my opinion.
“I think he’s good for Kathy. From what little I’ve seen he’s a good guy.”
“Yes, he is. Kathy’s a lucky girl,” Mom said. With a mischievous smile, she asked, “So, you did see how Kathy is when she’s with him?”
I tried to give her a blank look, but she didn’t buy it, not at all.
“You need to practice more before attempting something like that, Son,” she admonished me, making me laugh.
“I’ve seen them. It’s obvious both of them love each other very much. What about you? What do you think?”
“I like him. He’s respectful, and he’s shown that he loves and cares for Kathy. I couldn’t ask for more for Kathy’s sake.”
“So you approve?”
“Kind of,” she replied with an enigmatic tone. I didn’t hear any disapproval, so I didn’t know what to make of her reply.
“What do you mean?”
“Marriage is not only love, and sex. It’s managing a home, taking care of your partner, having kids and raising them, while keeping the love alive, but especially the friendship. It takes a lot of energy and effort, from both sides.”
“So?”
“So? So, your sister has a busy schedule, and she’s set her eyes on making a career for herself; same as Mark. I’m not sure if they will have time for themselves, or kids or anything else,” she replied, with a concerned tone.
“I think you’re worrying about something you shouldn’t. They will figure out things, decide on what they want, how they want it. How did it work out for you and Dad? Probably your parents had the same worries.”
“Maybe you’re right, but I want to see some grandchildren. And Kathy seems to be the only one who can give that,” she replied. From her tone, she made it clear she had no hopes from me, and this was another subtle comment directed at my life.
“That’s a bit egoistical, don’t you think?” I returned fire.
“No different than you’ve been, is it not?” she came back.
“I’m not egoistical, Ma, and I’m not going to get into the old arguments. Can’t we talk about something else?”
“Tell me, what did you really think of the new Sarah?” she opened up, probing again.
“Sarah is Sarah. She’s a fine girl.”
“You’re stubborn as a mule, you know that? No one in the family had that trait. Not me, not your dad. I wonder whose kid you are.”
“I have no way of knowing that. Did you adopt me?” I quipped, forgetting momentarily my manners and that I was talking to Mom.
“Watch your mouth, Mitch! I don’t give a whit how old you are, but you’re not old enough not to find yourself on my knees. After all these years, that would be a first. I’ve taught you better than that, and I’m still your mother.” This time her eyes were flashing with real anger, and I knew I had gone too far.
“I apologize, Mom, but you opened the subject, and I demand a certain respect, as much as you do. I ain’t no child,” I came back, as serious as she had been, not willing to give an inch, parent or not. Even though I knew I had been disrespectful, I didn’t like being treated like a child.
“Good God! Speak properly. It’s ‘I’m not a child.’ I taught you better than that. Where did you learn to speak like that? Which school did you go to?” she responded with exasperation.
I was getting ready to give another snappy reply, especially about the schooling, but taking a deep breath, I tried to calm down, and remember my manners.
“I’m no child. Happy now?”
She noticed how I responded, choosing no deliberately, in place of not, but decided to let it go with a resigned sigh.
“You’re still a child, Mitch. You’ll always be. Do you understand that? I doubt you can. Not until you have your own children,” she said softly.
When I didn’t respond, she continued, singing the same tune, but this time she didn’t pull her punches. “I just hope they will not give you the heart aches you’ve given me. I wouldn’t wish that to my worst enemy.”
“What!!” I exclaimed. Collecting myself, and with a calmer tone, I said, “I never gave you or Dad any heart aches, especially when I was young.”
“You think so,” she replied.
“Give me one example,” I insisted. “Then I’ll shut up.”
“The school bullies,” she replied.
Saying I was shocked was like saying ‘sugar is sweet.’ I was completely frozen, my mouth hanging open, and my cigarette dangling from my lower lip, still stuck, before it fell onto my lap. That galvanized me into a flurry of action; I jumped out of the chair, not to burn my jeans, and then picked it up from the floor, before it burned the linoleum. I sat back in my chair in a daze.
When I found my voice again, I asked, “How did you know about the school bullies?”
“That’s a mother’s privilege. Suffice it to say I know. I know what you did, too. After that they left you alone.”
“That’s not good enough. You always lecture me about how I don’t talk. You’re setting a very good example,” I came back, my burning curiosity overcoming my initial hesitation; my need to know overrode all other concerns I might have, including my reluctance to talk about certain things.
“You know, I should have taught Kathy a lesson for her part in the conspiracy. But, I knew why she did it, and it would have given away what I knew. I still get angry every time I remember how you two... little shits... thought you could hide something like that from me.”
“There was no conspiracy. I didn’t even know Kathy knew about it. I learned it later. But, it’s water under the bridge.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“You know it wasn’t easy,” I replied, reminding her of my own circumstances at the time.
“No, it hadn’t been, but you were always too proud. You didn’t help yourself much; you were too headstrong for your own good, too tough. You know, your dad didn’t help either. He was the one who persuaded me to let it go, unless it got too bad. He knew something about boys, and bullies, and the unwritten rules that applied in the kids’ world outside school. So, I had to sit and watch. Your sensei was another piece of work. That arrogant son—” she was saying before she caught herself.
I was taken aback by her vehemence at my sensei. Mom didn’t use profanity, unless she was seriously upset, and even then she was careful and deliberate about her choice words.
“If you felt like that, how come you allowed me to train under him?”
She paused for a long moment to collect herself, before answering. “I’m sorry, Mitch. It’s not really how I feel about him. I was just remembering our first encounter. He knew what was going on, and he repeatedly denied knowing anything about it, or the reason why he wanted to train you, driving me up the walls. But he was an honorable man. I know that now." She paused as if she had realized something. “Did he make a promise to you, not to talk about the bullies?”
When I nodded, she said, “That figures... I should have known,” with a soft tone—almost of contrition.
I was puzzled by her comments about my sensei.
“Did something happen between you?” I asked.
She tentatively shook her in the negative, and didn’t say anything for a while. From her reaction I understood she didn’t want to talk about it. We sat in silence smoking our cigarettes, until she broke the silence.
“When I met him first... he evaded the subject of what was happening with you and the bullies. He told me that you were interested in learning martial arts, and he was interested in teaching you. He tried to explain the growth and understanding and the discipline that would come out of your studies, but I had difficulty understanding him. Your dad seemed to understand what he was talking about, and trusted him, but... I... I wasn’t sure if it would be such a good idea. And, I needed to get to know him. He was a most difficult person, but he was also... I don’t know...” she said, her voice trailing, as her eyes took on a distant light, lost in thought.
Collecting herself, she looked at me. “Initially I had to trust your dad’s judgment on the subject. Eventually, I got to know him... better... as much as he allowed. I think he understood my concerns. We talked several times.” Giving me soft look, she added, “As I said, he was an honorable man.”
“I see...”
The whole thing came as a big surprise, and I hadn’t noticed anything happening at the time, when Sensei brought me home to my parents and discussed my training. I expected some questions might be asked, but I didn’t expect what she told me.
“Did you get involved in my training program or any other aspects of it?”
“No,” she replied, then as an after thought, she added, “Not really.”
“Not really,” I repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean, Ma?”
“As I said, we talked several times. Your sensei tried to explain the philosophy, rather than the physical aspects of martial arts. Our talks touched... many different subjects.” With a smile, she added, “It was most interesting. And, he explained what he thought you would get from it. I think what convinced me was that he was a kind and gentle person, despite his reserved, almost arrogant attitude. Perhaps, that’s got to do something with his being Japanese.”
“Was that all?” I asked, not sure if her involvement would be that limited, because she had been overly protective of her kids.
“Mitch, I can’t tell you some things,” she replied. Seeing the quizzical look in my eyes, she added, “I made a promise to him. But, know that he decided on your training. After all, he knew what he was talking about, and he took on a great responsibility.”
“I understand, Ma.”
I was curious after that admission. I thought back to the past, and tried to remember everything I could, to identify if there had been any instances when she might have gotten involved. As I went over my childhood, the first thing that came to my mind was my visit to the dog center. It had shaped to some degree, my outlook, and training, and it tied to what happened with the bully I had beaten up, later. Now, in hindsight, I knew what my sensei did wasn’t something proper for a young child of nine years old, even though it might have been necessary.
“Did you know anything about where he took me for a visit?”
She gave me a blank look, and was quiet for a while.
She didn’t know anything about it. That’s really strange!
“A promise is a promise,” she said quietly.
So, she did know!
I wondered whose idea it had been, and what else she had discussed with my sensei. I knew I wouldn’t get any answers, so I let it go, but I wanted to know how she felt about my training, especially after her remarks about giving her a heartache.
“Ma, how do you feel about the whole thing? My studies and training?”
“I’m glad you met him. I mean it. He taught you a lot, and helped you. But sometimes, I wonder what good came out of it though.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You didn’t have much of a normal life as a teenager. And you were very picky when it came to making friends, real friends. And girls; there weren’t any.”
“And you think that was because I spent too much time with my sensei? Or because of what I learned?”
“Wasn’t it? You became more independent, more picky,” she countered.
“I don’t think so. I was already picky, when I was young, when it came to other kids. That never changed. Girls... I was always too shy for them. Even with Kathy’s friends.”
“Like Sarah?”
I nodded.
“Figures. Like father like son. If I hadn’t chased after your dad, he would still be sitting by himself,” she said, her lips curling with a small smile.
“Was he really like that?”
“Not exactly. He was shy around the girls he was really interested in. I knew he had dated several girls, but they were flings. I figured out what he was like, and went after him.”
“Then I guess, I’m not like my father.”
She smiled. “You are different. Childhood plays a large role, and yours had been a difficult one. I’m not talking about the bullies, only.”
“I understand.”
“Maybe. You’ll understand better when you have your own kids, Mitch.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“You do that. Now, can you answer something for me?”
“If I can, I will.”
“Are you happy, Mitch?”
“Yes, I am. Why?”
“You know why, Mitch. Please, don’t be so secretive. I’m not trying to pry into your private life, but...”
From the look in her eyes, I understood she was wondering about the new woman in my life. It wasn’t a question of whether I was involved with someone, but a question of with whom I was involved with.
“Well... It’s a recent thing. We want to take it slow and see where it takes us. However, I still like my job, and the work, and haven’t changed my mind about those things. Does that answer your question?” I replied.
“I see... Are you afraid of something?” Mom asked.
“Huh? Where did you come up with that? We’ve just met, and we want to get to know each other.”
Mom got quiet, thinking about something, and I waited patiently for her to make her mind up. I sensed she had something in her mind, but she was hesitant.
“You’re not over her, yet, are you?”
We both knew who she meant: Reina.
“That’s in the pa—”
I stopped. I was going to skip answering her question with something evasive or with a denial, but... I didn’t want to go through the charade of giving an elaborate and plausible lie. And, after the heart–to–heart revelation a few minutes ago, I felt like I had to respond in kind. Seeing me mulling something in my mind, she waited patiently.
“I am and I’m not,” I replied, not willing to give more details.
I guess, she wasn’t expecting that answer, because she gave me a long, appraising look.
“Would you care to explain that?” she asked with a gentle tone, her eyes urging me to answer her.
“I think a part of me still loves that girl,” I said with an even voice.
She got thoughtful at that, but her eyes never left my face.
“Is that fair to whoever is in your life?” she asked, surprising me.
I shouldn’t have been. I might be her son, but if she thought I was doing something wrong, she didn’t hesitate to warn me or bend my ear.
Ohh God! I’m digging myself in deep shit. More and more.
“No, it’s not, but...”
“But?” she prompted, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“I’m not leading her, if that’s what you’re worried about. And as I said, it’s just a recent development. We want to get to know each other more,” I added, seeing her expression.
Her eyes softened, but she was watching me carefully, and there was a bit of sadness in her eyes. We were quiet for a long time after that, smoking our cigarettes. The ringing of the phone broke the silence. She left the kitchen and went to the living room to pick it up. In the meantime, I put out my cigarette, and lit another trying to calm down my nerves after that little ordeal. I had been worried about where the talk might be leading to... that summer and Reina.
Before I could take a second drag from my cigarette, Mom called out. “It’s for you, Mitch. Sarah.” I could hear the surprise and the question in her tone.
Shit!
Hastily putting out my cigarette, I went to the living room, and took the handset, while Mom went to one of the couches, and sat down, picking up the newspaper, but I suspected she would be listening on.
“Hi, Sarah?”
“Hi. I just got a call from Kathy. Mark was called back to the head office after lunch, and she doesn’t know if he’ll make it back tonight. She invited us to dinner at her place. Do you mind?”
“No. Sounds good.”
“Good. Tomorrow you have an appointment here, early in the morning. I was wondering if you could pick me up around five from here. I want to leave my car here, and since we’d be going to the hospital tomorrow together, I thought...”
“That’s OK. Was there anything else?”
“No. That was all. Unless, you were wondering about Dana?”
“I do, but that can wait,” I replied.
“You can’t talk comfortably?”
“Yep.”
“Is your mom around?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
Laughing, she said, “OK. We’ll catch up later.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I love you,” she said, and followed it with a teasing laugh, challenging me.
She knew I was in a tight spot, but I decided to bite the bullet.
“Me too, Sarah,” I replied, with a laugh.
“A predictable reply, Mitch, and your mom is not stupid.”
“I know, but I don’t care. If you knew that, you shouldn’t have.”
“Good luck. I’ll see you at five,” she said, still laughing.
“Thanks. See you then.”
Sarah was right about Mom. She didn’t expect me to get a call from her, and the last parts of our conversation were a bit... strange.
As I turned to go back to the kitchen, she called out. “Mitch?”
“Yes, Ma.”
“Are you meeting Sarah?”
“Yes. She’s invited to dinner at Kathy’s. She sends her regards.”
“Umm... Mitch, why did she call you?”
“She wanted me to pick her up from the hospital.”
“I thought she had a car. Did she have car trouble?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t mention anything.”
Putting the paper aside, she stood up and walked to me.
“Let’s go to the kitchen. I want another smoke.”
Uh–oh!
Back in the kitchen, she took one of my cigarettes, and lit it, and taking a long drag, she set her eyes on me.
“You know, Kathy is a few minutes drive away from her. Since Kathy invited her why didn’t Sarah ask her for a lift?”
“I have no idea. I didn’t ask.”
“No, you didn’t,” she said, with a chuckle. Then asked, “Why didn’t you?”
“I... didn’t give it a thought.”
Shit! This is not going good. Think man, think!
“I see. Is there something going on?”
“Huh?” I replied. Then as if realizing what she’s talking about, I followed it up with an indignant, “Like what?”
“You didn’t want to go to Sarah’s, but it seems you have enjoyed it, even though you weren’t forthcoming about it. You don’t talk to people, even your close friends, the way you did a few minutes ago.”
“Oh, come on, Mom! Sarah had been part of the family as long as I remember. I feel comfortable with her, and she’s been very nice. She’s not one of the other girls,” I replied, using a tone that shouted ‘I don’t believe what I’m hearing.’ She knew what I thought of Sarah, so my answer didn’t come as a big surprise.
“Yes, she’s a nice girl. You know I love her like a second daughter. I’m also aware of her life. She’s a lively woman. Some people may use labels, but she’s still a lady. I hope you treat her with the respect she deserves.”
I didn’t miss her tone, and from her words I gathered she was either warning me or she was suspicious I might be doing something wrong with her.
“I wasn’t taught otherwise.”
“No, you weren’t, and I don’t think you’d be anything other than a gentleman.”
“So, what are we talking about, Ma?” I went to the offensive.
“Good move, Mitch. But you forget I read, too. And not only the newspaper,” she came back, giving me a pointed look.
I remembered the time I saw her reading Sun Tzu’s Art of War, after my sensei had given it to me to study it, and that hadn't been the only book she had read since that time.
“I don’t understand you, Ma. First you ask if Sarah flirted with me, and now you’re giving me the third degree. I already told you I’m in a relationship. You know Sarah. She was being friendly, and she knows I’m involved with another woman,” I replied pointedly.
The last piece was a very calculated response. As I suspected, if she knew Sarah that well, then she would also know Sarah wouldn’t make a move on another woman’s man. And, I didn’t want to lie, but let her draw her own conclusions.
After giving me a long look, she replied, “Yes, I know Sarah.”
Her expression softened, but I could see her mind was busy with something, and I waited patiently, while lighting my cigarette that I had put out few minutes ago in such a hurry. Standing up, she walked to me. Pulling me to her belly, she kissed the top of my head.
“I love you, Son. And, I worry about you. I didn’t want to pry into your life. I just hope things work out for you. I want to see you happy.”
Then she released me from her embrace, and turned to leave the kitchen.
“Ma!”
She stopped and turned.
“I’m doing all right. I really am,” I said, trying to make her understand.
My life might have gotten more complicated, but there was happiness in it, for the first time in a long time, and love. Her eyes met mine, and she nodded, as a faint trace of a smile passed her lips, before she turned and left the kitchen.
Phewww! That was close.
That had been close, and I wasn’t sure if she accepted my explanation or if she was just letting me off the hook. I ran the whole conversation through my mind. She had noticed I had been carefully side-stepping her probes. I wasn’t sure if my relationship with Sarah was wrong, and I was reluctant to give her a more direct answer that could have been a lie. On the other hand, she knew I wouldn’t do anything wrong. Was she satisfied with my answer or was she simply bidding her time? I had no idea, but I prayed—and hoped—that I wasn’t being let off the hook.
After finishing my cigarette, I went to the little room where Dad kept his magazine collections, in search of my text books from the college and the diary. As Kathy had said, the two carton boxes were stacked neatly next to the magazine collections in the small cabinet, taped closed with the brown packing tape. I took them out and using my car key, sliced through the packing tape. Going through their contents, I located my diary. Among the books I found a few hand books with formulas, and technical specifications, and put them aside with my diary. They would come handy at the rig, even though some of the information was a bit dated—plus they would serve to hide my main find. I put back the remaining stuff into the boxes, and closed them, before stacking them next to the magazines in the cabinet. I went to the master bedroom, to bid goodbye to Dad, but he had fallen asleep while reading. I returned to the living room to bid goodbye to Mom. Seeing the books and notebook in my hand, she raised an eyebrow in question.
“A few text books, and my notes from the college. I need them at the rig,” I offered.
She smiled, and said, “It’s good that I didn’t throw them away. You’re turning into a collector like your dad, never throwing anything.”
“Maybe, but I never know when I need something. I’m not really much of a collector.”
“I hope not. Not before you get your own place. I have enough trouble with your dad’s books and magazines. Are you leaving?”
“Yep. I bought some books and want to do some reading at Kathy’s place.”
“Why don’t you stay for tea? It’s still early. You can read here, before you go and pick up Sarah.”
I wanted to accommodate her. After all, she still missed me; it was easy to see.
“OK. Let me drop these, and grab a book. They’re still in my car,” I said.
* * * * *
A few minutes later, I was back with a Heinlein novel, Tunnel in the Sky, and comfortably settled in one of the couches, reading it. Mom switched on the TV, watching the news. Even though I was immersed in the book, I was following the news with a half ear. When I caught parts of what the reporter said, my attention focused on the TV.
“... attack, late at night, resulted in exchange of small arms fire. The official sources claim, two soldiers were lightly wounded, and three terro—”
She switched to another channel before I could hear the rest of it. I knew she did it because she didn’t want to be reminded of problems, while I was away from the danger, safely back at home. I returned to my book, and she went to the kitchen. I was into the story so much that I lost track of time, until a delicious smell wafted from the kitchen, tickling my nose. Checking my watch I saw it was still early for tea time, just past three, and decided to investigate the source of the smell.
When she saw me at the kitchen door, she smiled and said, “You’re still a kitchen rat.”
“Well, it’s hard to miss the smell. Patty cake?”
She shook her head in a ‘You’re never going to change’ manner, and chuckled. I checked the pan, and saw minced meat, chopped sausages, garlic, chopped tomatoes, finely cut peppers, and onions among other things. From the smell and what I remembered from the recipe, I knew she had a bit of celery, coriander, and some basil, as well as my favorite, oregano, in the mixture. I took up stirring the pot—the stuffing for the patty cake—while she got busy preparing the custard. After the stuffing was half cooked, she spread the mix on the custard, and covered it, before placing it in the pre-heated oven. I helped with the drying as she washed the dishes. I never understood why she used the dishwasher so rarely, and asked about it.
With a laugh, she retorted, “You want me to use the dishwasher for a few pieces?”
“No, but you could put them in the dishwasher, and when it’s full, get all of them done in one go.”
“It’s faster and easier this way. We didn’t always have a dishwasher.”
“So this is one of those, ‘in the old days’ thing?”
Laughing, she said, “Yes, it is... you, Oh so wise young one.”
When we finished with the cleaning, she prepared the tea. The patty cake was coming along fine, and would be ready in time. We sat in the kitchen, smoking and drinking our tea, enjoying the time together.
“Have you decided when you will be going for vacation?” she asked.
“In a few days. I miss the sea.”
“You’re full of contradictions, you know that?”
“Why?”
“You love the sea, and yet you choose to work in the desert.”
“One has nothing to do with the other.”
“Really?”
I shrugged not willing to answer, somehow fearing we will get into a lengthy discussion, but Mom had other ideas.
“Do you know that you loved the water since you were a baby? We couldn’t get you out of the bath. You cried each time we had to take you out of the tub. It didn’t change when we started visiting your grandparents, when they were alive. You discovered the sea for the first time. You were just three years old, and you didn’t want to get out of the water. Even when you felt cold, and almost turned blue, you wanted to stay in the water. I remember how other parents would criticize your dad, seeing you cry so hard. They would tell him not to force a little kid into the water. But, you were crying because you didn’t want to get out. In the end, we discovered that if you had your back to the sea, you didn’t make so much fuss. So your dad had to walk backwards with you hanging to his neck, as he got you out of the water.” She finished the little tale with a fond smile, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Another example of how difficult a child I was?” I quipped.
“No, it’s not, and you know it,” Mom admonished me. “When you become a parent you’ll know what those little memories mean.” After a momentary pause, she said, “You always loved the sea, and now, you would choose to work in the desert.”
“Mom, I can’t work in an office, and I do love what I do. You never understood that.” When she raised her eyebrow, I said, “It’s one of the few things I really enjoy.”
“I always thought... You’re a city boy; you never mentioned an interest in working outdoors.”
“Huh?”
“When you were in high school, you were interested in electronics and computers. Then one day, you came up with the idea about Petroleum Engineering.”
“You never asked or said much when I made my choice.”
“Well, you seemed hooked on the idea, and I knew you talked about it with Peter. Later, Peter told us that you were very much interested in it, and that there were a lot of opportunities, good money, and travel. We didn’t expect you to change your mind. You were still considering the electronics and computers.”
“Well, unfortunately the Computer Science department was bleeding. There were few professors left. Many of them were already working in the private sector, and the ones who remained were looking for similar jobs, instead of staying in academia. When I visited the campus, I heard the senior students talking about how lucky they were because they were graduating before all the best instructors left the department. Petroleum Engineering was a good alternative, and after talking with Peter, I was sure of it.”
“But we thought you would be working in the office. I believe you thought the same.”
I shrugged, and said, “I like the job, and enjoy what I do. So, you know different, now, don’t you?”
“I guess. But, work is not everything, Son. It’s just a means to an end.”
“I know that. But, I consider myself lucky. I’m doing something I really enjoy doing. Don’t you think?”
“You’re not just saying that to comfort me?”
“Ma! You know me better than that.”
“Yes, I do. That’s why I asked that,” she replied with a teasing tone.
“I thought you would have understood,” I retorted, with a resigned tone.
“I’m sorry, Mitch. I just wanted to make sure. I used to read you like an open book,” she said.
Changing the subject swiftly, she said, “I think the cake is ready,” and stood up to check the oven.
Even though she had the window open, and the ventilation was on full power, the smell was over powering, and I felt hungry. Just then, Dad walked into the kitchen, sniffing in an exaggerated manner.
“Mmm... Nice. Patty cake?” he asked.
“Yes, dear. Have a seat, and I’ll get you a cup and a plate,” Mom replied.
Turning to me, Dad asked, “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Son?”
“I needed some of my text books, and decided to drop by,” I said.
“I thought maybe you smelled the patty cake,” he responded with a grin. “Is your sister coming for dinner, too?”
“Nope. And, I’m not staying for dinner. I stayed for tea.”
Rubbing his hands, he said, “Good, good. So I don’t have to share the cake with you wolves.” He was referring to Kathy and I, of course, and how we always left a small piece for him, whenever Mom made a patty cake.
“Not so fast, David,” Mom interrupted Dad’s plans. “Mitch is going to take it to Kathy. Sarah’s going there for dinner, and I know the girls haven’t had it for a long time, especially Sarah.”
That was a surprise for me, as much as it had been for Dad. I knew she packed food for Kathy, when she was visiting. She thought Kathy was too busy to take care of herself, or wouldn’t eat properly, so most of the time Kathy returned from her visits to Mom with something.
“What about me?” Dad asked, indignantly, but he was teasing Mom.
“There’s enough for you, dear. Just don’t fill yourself up. There’s still dinner,” Mom placated him.
“Maybe we should go to Kathy’s for dinner,” Dad came back.
“David! What’s come over you? You never act like that.”
“I was thinking of you. You could do with a bit of rest, and let Kathy take care of dinner,” Dad replied with a straight face, but Mom knew him too well.
“It sounds more like you’re thinking of the cake. I’ll make you more, if you want. Leave the kids alone, will you?”
Turning to me, Dad said, “You hear that, Son? That’s what happens after more than 30 years of marriage.”
I knew that was a jibe at Mom, a subtle one, and Mom didn’t let it go.
“Enlighten me, dear. What happens after 30 years of marriage?” she came back, her eyes flashing.
“The love grows stronger and stronger,” Dad responded, with a wicked smile.
“Does it?” Mom asked, her tone sarcastic, but playful.
“But, of course,” Dad replied, with a more serious tone, even though he was still teasing.
Mom decided to let him off the hook, and got busy preparing plates and I got up to help, filling the cups.
As I was finishing my plate, Mom packed the cake for me to take to Kathy.
“Hurry up, Mitch. You’ll be late,” she reminded.
Finishing my cup, I stood up and bid them a hasty goodbye.
* * * * *
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