Page 56 of Sharkbait
“I did. On the daily.”
“I don’t remember that.” She juts her lower teeth out. It’s thisweird habit she does when I call her on her shit. “Here. Sit, sit, sit.” She flops back on the modern loveseat by the window and slaps the cushion to her right. “Sit next to me and tell me everything.”
I silently lower myself beside her as she prattles on and pats my thigh.
“When I used the third person while addressing you just now, I did that quite intentionally. I asked how mybabyis doing. Notyou. But mybaby. Clearly, I was referring to your inner child.”
Clearly.
And the emotional whiplash begins.
“Sweetie, relax your forehead. If you’re not careful, you’re going to get an eleven. All the women in our family get an eleven when they turn forty.”
“I’m twenty-three.”
“Exactly. You’re more than halfway there.” She rubs her thumb between my eyebrows until I swat her hand away.
Calliope sweeps in then with a forced smile on her face and places a ring of shrimp cocktail on the coffee table in front of us. “Hey, girl, hey! So glad you’re here! Ralph will be out in a bit. He’s just assembling the salads.”
“So? how isshedoing?” My mother stares into my eyes, ignoring that Calliope just entered the room.
That’s weird.
“My inner child?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I’m not surrrrre.” I hesitate. “Though if I had to guess, Mom, I’d say my inner child is probably pretty fucked up.”
“Well, then you better get to work, missy! Only you can heal your inner child. That’s the work that no one else can do for us. I’ve been healing the hell out of mine, I can tell you that!”
“Cool, cool,” I say and crane my neck toward the kitchen in hopes that Ralph is almost done.
Should I mention the fact that she is the one who messed up my inner child in the first place?
No. Not worth it.
I’ve learned over the years that when dealing with my mother, it’s best to let her words wash over me like water. I don’t need tomake sense of them. I don‘t need to take them to heart. Because next month, whatever is driving her now will be forgotten. This month it’s this inner child mumbo jumbo. Next month? Who knows. But whatever it is, it will be directly influenced by whoever she happens to be dating—or getting over—at the time.
“Is this a Steve thing?”
“A what thing?” She tilts her head to the side.
“A Steve thing. Did Steve get you into the whole ‘inner child investigation’ thing?”
“No. Steve and I parted ways ages ago. My new friend Dave introduced me to it.
Have a shrimp, sweetie,” Mom says. She dips one in cocktail sauce and lifts it to my mouth.
I lean back. “No, thank you. I’m not much for seafood. Sort of feels like eating my friends.”
She shrugs and pops it into her own mouth instead.
“Shoot!” Calliope shouts. “I knew that! Ralph mentioned Theresa loves shrimp cocktail, so I got some, but I totally forgot that you hate it, and—”
“It’s not a problem. I don’t plan on staying long anyway. I’m just dropping in to say hey before I head home and hit the books.”
“Oh baby, please stay,” Mom whines.
