Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Kill Me Now

Lunch, Brunch or whatever the fuck you wanted to call it was not going well. If my high-heel could have found a hard surface it would be clicking a rapid beat on the floor. As it was my knee had hit the table twice, startling James’s mother. How do I get myself into these situations? Oh right, I get drunk and have sex with someone that I picked up in bar.

James was occupied with the Nugget who tried to walk this morning—he would bloody be in his right mind to run away from me. James’ momma was a true Southern Belle, while I was just blue collar trash. For some reason I found it difficult not to slip into my accent that I had rid myself of so long ago—but something about the way she said Savannah.

Mother Pearl, as she wanted to be called was dumped into my lap, two days ago I didn’t know she existed. Apparently this woman had no love for Ann Marie and James wanted to make up for his bride to be shortcomings with the mother of his child. She eyed me up and down, when I skipped the second round of mimosas and started knocking Gin Gimlets, I thought I saw her smile.

“Savannah, now where did you say you were from again?” Can I roll my eyes now?

“From Georgia, ma’am.” I did my best not to drawl and I was pulling it off.

“And what did you say your family did.” What a bitch.

“My father was into drinking, so much so that it killed him. My mother, well she is just a fuck-up all around who has a different boyfriend every week and a different excuse for why her life is so bad.”

James nearly pissed his pants—who would have known he was a mommas boy. I was just thankful that he wasn’t her oldest—if James were her oldest that bat would have crucified and James staked through the balls for his indiscretions. He was saved by the fact that his older brothers married proper southern woman and had their families traditionally.

Jesus. It was 12:37 and I was sitting in restaurant over looking the San Francisco Bay, I had choked down Oysters Rockefeller and now was staring down lobster quiche and green salad. The nugget looked at me and laughed—he had been doing that a lot. He found something about me hilarious, he was clapping his hands and throwing his head back against James.


I smiled, the little bugger was smart. I couldn’t wait for him to talk—I was lost in the image of Dylan the college student when Mother Pearl interrupted.

“So your husband owns, a bar?” She curled her lip when she said it.

“Yes, it’s called the Pink Pussy and I work there three nights a week as a bartender.”

“Oh, and does that pay well?” I was going to stick it to this elitist Ole Miss bitch.

“It pays quite well Mother Pearl… I was thinking—you have to see my home before you leave.”

She looked frightened and James scolded me. She had found his living accommodations to be less than satisfactory but as marketing VP she calculated that he made more money an d my house would be deplorable.

Across the bay…

I was bringing Mother Pearl a glass of water, the Nugget was down for a nap and I was praying that Don would come home. James made his excuses—which was he had to check on Ann Marie who didn’t know I would be at the brunch. I kicked off my shoes and watched as she marveled and Don’s random collection of valuables. It wasn’t my shit but what the hell did she know.

I frowned at my pantyhose; there was a hole in the toe. Without thinking I tucked my thumbs into the waistband under my dress and pulled them off. Bunching them up I am sure I had a look of utter pleasure on my face when Mother Pearl turned around. She took a step back as if my bare legs were just to much for her. When I realized it wasn’t me, I turned to find Don standing behind me.

I laughed then made my introductions.

“Don, this is Mother Pearl—James’ mother. Mother Pearl this is Don, my husband.”

Don extended his hand. He was actually dressed very nice in slacks with a button down black dress shirt, he had recently ditched the buddy holly glasses and was sporting some fashionable Dior glasses. He still looked like a thug, and the exposed tattoos didn’t help.

Her mouth was still open when the doorbell rang, then the person impatient stuck their key in the door and walked in. James had key, as did Jane. Something told me it wasn’t James. Jane rounded the corner and Mother Pearls hand fluttered to her chest. She had, had enough I should be nice.

“Mother Pearl, you must be tired would like to rest in one of the guest rooms until James returns?”

“Yes” she stammered.

I walked her upstairs to the frilliest bedroom we had, the walls were hand painted Chinoiserie Silk and hold over from the previous owner. I actually kind of dug it and it seemed to put Mother Pearl at ease. She had the bed, a chaise lounge and a bathroom so I figured she should feel safe for awhile.

As I walked downstairs to greet Don properly and find out what the hell Jane wanted I suddenly had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right. I trotted back to the Nuggets room and he was sound asleep and fine. Don and Jane were catching up on the couch. The smiled when they saw me but I turned and ran to Mother Pearl’s room.

She was laying on her side with her shoes off as I rounded the bed her face was grey and her eyes were clenched shut in pain. I said her name, it was barely a whisper but her eyes fluttered open and she reached out to me. I crawled on the bed as I took her in my arms her wig fell away—revealing a head only covered in small wisps of blonde hair.

I started crying and I felt panic build inside of me. “Don” my voice was stuck in my throat I swallowed hard but before I could try again she touched my face.

“It’s OK, I’m fine.” I looked down at her face and indeed the color was returning. I was still holding her and for some reason I couldn’t stop crying.

“It’s cancer dear, the pains just getting worse that’s all.” She gently pulled herself out my arms and sat up straightening her suit and retrieving her wig.

“I can barely make it through an hour before my body chews through the pain medication. I guess they will want to put me on a drip soon.”

I took in a ragged breath and stopped my tears.

“I guess we have a lot of work to do then.” I retrieved a digital recorder from the office. Mother Pearl looked at it suspiciously.

“What exactly is it that you are doing, love?”

“Recording my sons history.”

She damn near smiled.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell James.” She coughed and made further adjustments to her wig.

“My family doesn’t know.” She looked remorseful.

“Have it your way.”

“Where were your parents born?” I switched on the recorder, I couldn’t think of anywhere else to start.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Wonderful.....just wonderful....I've got to start writing about my North Carolinian mother-in-law(who had moved when she was 2 to NY, spoke still with such a heavy drawl you'd think she and Scarlet were going to have to bury the soldier any moment ;) Thanks! H