*
A big shipment of books arrived on Saturday while I was off, but Miranda had managed to get only about half of them recorded in the computer and put away. Therefore, I had plenty to do on Sunday when the library opened up for the afternoon. I was kind of grateful. I had something to take my mind off of everything. I didn’t want to think about any of the crazy events my life had taken a turn to in the past few months. Work was what I needed.
My disappointment in learning that Erick was simply an ordinary man had really bummed me out. I know it shouldn’t have, but it did. I kept telling myself that I was being utterly stupid and silly, but it still didn’t change the way I felt.
Miranda had been checking out all the patrons, but we got kind of busy around three, so I had to set aside the books I was filing in and help her get the crowd out. I had just finished checking out a young black woman and turned aside to take a drink of my bottled water, but when I looked back up I almost fell off my seat. “Mother!”
“Hello, Brenda,” she said, eyes all misty and happy.
I was pretty much speechless. “You’re really here?” I finally said in a noticeably cracked voice.
Looking lovingly apologetic, she replied, “Yes! I’m back, Brenda. I have been so worried about you. I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to see you. I couldn’t believe it when your father told me that you and Greg had married, but you had left Greg and moved out… Are you okay?”
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. Laughing at the absurdity of it all.
Miranda looked at me strangely.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said to my boss, managing to stifle my laughter, “But this is my mother.”
“Oh?” she replied with a puzzled frown. But then looked away.
I turned back to my mother. “Now? Now you are concerned about me?”
Hurt flickered in her eyes, but she maintained a straight face. “I know I deserved that. But I did beg you to go to school.”
Wriggling my head yes, I replied, “You did. I know you did. And it didn’t take very long after Greg and I married for me to see what you’d been trying to tell me all along. I guess I can’t blame you for leaving the way you did.”
“Well, I shouldn’t have left you, Brenda. But your dad is another story. I should have left his ass a long, long time ago.” She glanced over at Miranda and then back to me. “What time do you get off?”
“Five,” I replied, looking at my watch.
“You drive or walk?”
“Walked.”
“How about I pick you up at five and we can eat at one of the little restaurants on the Riverwalk? Then we could go to your place or mine and visit for a while?”
“Sounds good, Mom. I had been just thinking of heating up a microwave dinner, but I am getting kind of tired of them.”
“See you then. I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Okay, Mom.” I smiled, and she gave my hand an affectionate pat and walked out.
Sure enough, Mom was waiting for me when I came out, leaning across the front seat and opening the door for me. I hopped in.
“You need to stop at your apartment for anything first?”
“Nope. I’m good. And so glad you’re back. It’s been really lonely without you.”
“Been kind of lonely for me too, hon.”
“Are you here for good now?” I was hesitant to ask, but I still had to know.
“As long as you need me, Brenda.”
“You have a place to stay?”
“Yes! I rented a small apartment about a mile down the road from the park. Your dad said he thought you lived close. He’s seen you in the park a lot, from what he says.”
“Yes. I live in an apartment on the opposite end of the park from the church.”
“You happy there?”
“I’m not being tormented and run to death by Dad and Greg.”
Mom laughed at that. “Got ya.”
“How are the two pastors?”
“They’re pastors.”
Now I was the one laughing.
“Greg misses you though. He really isn’t quite as bad as your dad. But close. Give it a few more years and he will probably be just as bad.”
“That’s what scares me, Mom. I’ve seen him slowly growing more and more like Dad.”
“It would take something short of a miracle to keep it from ruining him, I’m afraid. I’ve seen it happen too many times.” She smiled over at me. “You know… We’ve seen numerous pastors and their families over the years. Only a handful of them seem to remain actually happy. The wives grow old, weary and frigid, and the kids rebel and run off. Often becoming delinquents in rebellion. Fortunately, not all of them. Some actually turn out okay.”
“But not many,” I said.
“I think if a pastor can truly keep his perspectives right, that he can do a lot of good and have a happy family too. Unfortunately, so many of them get a God complex. Like your dad. And now poor Greg seems to be headed down that same road.”
“I know. I can see it.”
It took some searching, but we finally found a place to park where we didn’t have to walk too far. “Enough talk about them. Let’s go get us something good to eat.”
“Yeah.” I agreed with a nod and got out. I glanced over at the folks in one of the riverboats gliding along the water by the Riverwalk. They all looked so happy. Dad had taken Mom and me there several times when I was a young girl, but that had been a few years ago.
Mom knew what I was thinking. She gave me a warm smile and said, “Been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah. It has.”
“Maybe we’ll ride it after we eat. Want to?”
That idea sounded good. “Sure. I’d love to.”
“We’ll do it then.”
We went on to a little Italian restaurant then and chose one of the tables outside.
It was great having my mom around again. We spent a lot of time together the first week. She’d come over after I got off work, or I would go to her place. She had a new job as a receptionist for some local doctor, but hadn’t started yet. The girl that she was to replace had another week. I even introduced her to Paul and Nancy. I could tell she wasn’t real keen on them at first, but she was pleasant and not rude. She just thought them kind of ‘hippy’, but added that they were my friends, so she would respect that. Then one Friday night, they invited me and Mom over for pizza. She was cool with it, and we both had a good time. Paul was good at telling jokes and had us all entertained. We left with our sides hurting from laughing so much.
When we left, she let me know that she liked them better than at first sight. Still, there was something about them that was different. “They aren’t church folk, are they?” she finally asked me.
“Not at all, Mom.”
“I thought so. They are too relaxed and not uptight. I didn’t see that false sweetness about them.”
I had expected a different kind of comment, and thought it great that she said that. “False sweetness, huh? So you do like them a little?”
“Yes. I do. But I still pick up really different vibes. Can’t put my finger on it, though.”
“They’re just not church folks,” I reminded her.
“Yes. You’re right. Maybe that’s all it is.”
Even though Mom had left church and Dad, I feared she would still have too much Christianity ingrained in her to understand me having Satanists friends, and even more so that I was a Satanist. Nope. As understanding and open-minded as she was, I had a feeling that she would not be that open. I would do my best to keep it to myself. I didn’t have to tell Nancy and Paul either. They had been the ones that were adamant about keeping it quiet.