From the Imagination of Dr. Nicki: Real Life - Stories I Never Knew... Part 6
Over the course of these two weeks, I'm presenting "Stories I Never Knew...", a 12-part fictional blog story. I hope you enjoy it. Today, I present PART 6. If you missed any of the previous parts, here are those links to read first:
PART 1 - http://drnickimonti.blogspot.com/2016/09/from-imagination-of-dr-nicki-real-life_19.html
PART 2 - http://drnickimonti.blogspot.com/2016/09/from-imagination-of-dr-nicki-real-life_20.html
PART 3 - http://drnickimonti.blogspot.com/2016/09/from-imagination-of-dr-nicki-real-life_21.html
PART 4 - http://drnickimonti.blogspot.com/2016/09/from-imagination-of-dr-nicki-real-life_22.html
PART 5 - http://drnickimonti.blogspot.com/2016/09/from-imagination-of-dr-nicki-real-life_23.html
PART 4 - http://drnickimonti.blogspot.com/2016/09/from-imagination-of-dr-nicki-real-life_22.html
PART 5 - http://drnickimonti.blogspot.com/2016/09/from-imagination-of-dr-nicki-real-life_23.html
A number of years ago, for no particular reason, I dropped by the house to give Mama a hug. By then our relationship had grown up, in a way, and I’d moved past trying to prove myself to them – or so I thought.
As always, I went straight to the kitchen where I knew I’d find Mama at her post – the position she’d taken up after Grandmother Lollie died. This day I found her drooped down in the worn wood kitchen chair, weeping. Now you must understand, Mama seldom cried. I’d watch her wave sad feelings away with her hand like she was swatting off a fly. “Who has time for such things!” she’s say with furrowed, perplexed brow. “Let those who have nothing better to do, have all the crying business they can handle. They should live and be well!”
As Mama sat slumped there, I was struck with how much, over the years, she had come to resemble a cardboard box. One of those large, square boxes filled with little white Styrofoam bubbles. Now, though, the bubbles had all been removed and she was completely collapsed.
I rushed to her side and kneeling down beside her I said, “What in the world is it Mama? What has happened?” she looked at me pathetically and I realized how very long it had been since I could see myself in my mother’s hazel eyes. “It’s David!” she gasped. Immediately I was afraid. “What about David?! What’s happened,” I whispered, as evenly as I could manage. “He’s dropped out of medical school. Do you understand!!??” She was practically spitting now. “DROPPED OUT!”
The trembling breath I’d been holding every since she mentioned my brother’s name, whooshed out of me. “Oh my God, Mama, you scared me half to death.”
“YOU SHOULD BE SCARED.” An intense panic surrounded her words like grasping fingers. “Your brother has obviously lost his mind. We have to do something.”
“Mama,” I said quietly, “Don’t you think the most important thing is that David’s happy? I know that’s what you truly want, yes?”
She looked at me like I was an alien creature she’d never seen before. “Happy?! What’s happy?? How does a man find happy without security. Do you have any idea what your brother thinks he’s going to do? A writer. He says he’s a movie writer. God Forbid. He’s completely meshugana. You think any girl is going to want such a man. You think your father will ever have a namesake. This is it. It dies with us.” And she shook her head so hard I thought it would fall off.
“Well, Mama,” I said evenly,” Perhaps I will be the one to carry the line forward.”
“You!!” she said incredulously. “You’re a girl. It’s not the same. Not the same.”
I realized we had stumbled into murky territory where I was beginning to trip over thorny bushes and stony protrusions. I reared back. “It will be alright Mama. It will be alright. You know what Grandfather always said. Everything is as it should be.”
“Well your grandfather didn’t know everything.” The words had rolled out of her mouth like runaway marbles, and right away you could tell she was ashamed. She tried to cover her tracks. “I don’t know. Don’t know. I just wonder where I went wrong. I always tried so hard to do right by you children.”
Since time began I’d found this to be a particularly annoying trait of my mothers. The way everything that happened – in the house and even in the world – revolved around her. An earthquake could occur in Japan and Mama wanted to batten down the hatches because, “if it could happen to those people it could happen to us!”
As I watched my truly forlorn mother writhing in her tortured anticipation of what was to unfold, I thought about God. THE Father. I wondered, how HE felt when His children took a “disappointing” road? Was it even possible to disappoint Him? I’d often worried about this, and after long thought had finally decided that God wasn’t at all like my particular parents. That He was absolutely glad when the heart was really glad. This felt like the God my grandfather celebrated. The one met in the tall, shadowed Temple spaces.
But mama will never know that God, I mused. How sad. Then I rose and leaving mama to mumble harried phrases about her lost son, I went to the stove to stir the steamy chicken soup. And all the women of my family, down through the ages, slapped against my face as I bent to taste.
She looked at me like I was an alien creature she’d never seen before. “Happy?! What’s happy?? How does a man find happy without security. Do you have any idea what your brother thinks he’s going to do? A writer. He says he’s a movie writer. God Forbid. He’s completely meshugana. You think any girl is going to want such a man. You think your father will ever have a namesake. This is it. It dies with us.” And she shook her head so hard I thought it would fall off.
“Well, Mama,” I said evenly,” Perhaps I will be the one to carry the line forward.”
“You!!” she said incredulously. “You’re a girl. It’s not the same. Not the same.”
I realized we had stumbled into murky territory where I was beginning to trip over thorny bushes and stony protrusions. I reared back. “It will be alright Mama. It will be alright. You know what Grandfather always said. Everything is as it should be.”
“Well your grandfather didn’t know everything.” The words had rolled out of her mouth like runaway marbles, and right away you could tell she was ashamed. She tried to cover her tracks. “I don’t know. Don’t know. I just wonder where I went wrong. I always tried so hard to do right by you children.”
Since time began I’d found this to be a particularly annoying trait of my mothers. The way everything that happened – in the house and even in the world – revolved around her. An earthquake could occur in Japan and Mama wanted to batten down the hatches because, “if it could happen to those people it could happen to us!”
As I watched my truly forlorn mother writhing in her tortured anticipation of what was to unfold, I thought about God. THE Father. I wondered, how HE felt when His children took a “disappointing” road? Was it even possible to disappoint Him? I’d often worried about this, and after long thought had finally decided that God wasn’t at all like my particular parents. That He was absolutely glad when the heart was really glad. This felt like the God my grandfather celebrated. The one met in the tall, shadowed Temple spaces.
But mama will never know that God, I mused. How sad. Then I rose and leaving mama to mumble harried phrases about her lost son, I went to the stove to stir the steamy chicken soup. And all the women of my family, down through the ages, slapped against my face as I bent to taste.
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