Coupla' Days, Pt. 1

When my brother called to tell me my mother was dying, I didn't know how to respond.

Anger?

Frustration?

Pain?

Memories of ma came in waves, hitting me hard. It wasn't fair. What did he want me to do? See her? Call her? 

I hadn't seen her in all of ten years. You make life choices, you know? I mean, everyone has to decide where his or her own life is headed. And mine? Well, mine was headed nowhere fast and it was all because, at the time, she was in it. 

And then she left. 

Just left, one day when things got a little weird. Not to be seen nor heard from in ten whole years. 

And now this.

Coming from my brother, things didn't sound all that bad. Really, that's the way with him. I mean, his wife will go out and cheat on him, he’ll call me up the next day and say, "Johnny, she cheated on me. What do I do?" And that's it. No tears, no emotion, just a question. And he doesn't even take my advice, that's the real let-down with the whole deal. I told him I would kill her if it were me dealing with my wife, but what that means in the language of brothers is to find the guy, mess him up a little, and don't talk to her for a week or two. That should set them both straight.

He lets her off the hook with a couple of nights in the sack, and it's over. Man, I don't know how he could do it. Sleep in the same bed with her, I mean. That stuff is pretty hard to take, if you ask me. I don't deal with things all too well.

My mother is mean. She says one thing and means the other. 

My grandmother, her own mother, doesn't even like her.

"Your ma, Johnny, she's a rare bird, she is. What's the matter with her, doesn't even call me on my birthday? I tell you what, she's outta the will if I don't hear from her in the next coupla' days." 

My grandmother's a bit crackers herself, if you ask me. Always taking people out of the will, then putting them back in if they do something nice for her. Piss her off, though? You're out of the will. Nothing to it. Just like that with my grandmother. It kind of makes you wonder when she's going to kick the bucket, just to see if there really is a will. 

Sort of mean, I know, but look where I get it.

Anyway, my mother is baby-sitting one night - my wife and I, we hardly ever get a night to ourselves - and she brings a bottle of vodka with her. This wouldn't be so bad if my kids were older. But they're not. A one year old and a five year old can't take care of themselves all too well. So I tell her not to drink in front of them and maybe take it easy until we get home, we won't be too late. She passes out cold on the living room floor with the kids still up. I mean, they're climbing on her, my oldest daughter screaming in her ear, "Are you dead, Nana, are you dead, Nana?"

When I spoke with her the next morning, she was actually surprised that I would point the finger at her for being drunk and irresponsible. Accused me of being a bad son, that's how far she takes it. I haven't seen her since that night. And now this.