Title:Jess -- Plan B, pt. 2 Author: pseud [ Send a Private Message ]
Copyright: 2005 Content Rating: PG Disclaimer: Set about 15 years into the future.
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Again, I don't know timing, but while your interest remains, I'll work on this as I can.
Summary: Jess packs; her mother frets - and not without cause. (Formerly "Interesting Times, pt. 2") Total Views: 3425 times.
Dinner that night was quiet. Not like I expected a shouting match or something, but I did think maybe she'd want to talk, or something.
We did talk, but to start with, it was all really safe subjects. Things like how was school, or did I have any plans for after the softball game this Thursday? She knew the answers, fine and yes, but she still knew that it was her momly duty to ask the questions. Maybe she's just wondering if the answers are going to change or something.
Then she got into the weird stuff, and I knew I was trapped.
"Jessica, honey, you know I trust you, right?"
Whenever a parent begins with something like that, full name and all, the rest just can't be good. I mean, if she has to point out that she trusts me, what does that really mean? I doubt it means that she trusts me. "Uh, yeah, mom. I know." One good lie deserves another, right?
"But I need to say that I'm a little nervous about you traveling."
Ok, so that much has been made patently obvious by the uber-clingy thing she's been doing lately.
"I'll be ok, mom. It's kind of like that time I went skiing with Aunt Shane."
She got that 'deer in the headlights look.' Oops. Maybe that wasn't the trip to bring up. "Well, except this time I promise not to get kicked out of the hotel." Yup, I really did pick the wrong example here. "But you know that wasn't my fault, right? I was just trying to sleep."
Mom gave me a pained smile. I get those from her sometimes. It's like she's going through one of those parenting mantras in her head. I can almost see her lips moving. 'Let her grow, let her go' She listens to them when she goes jogging. I know, because I got our iPods mixed up once.
"Mom, I'll be fine. I'll just be, you know, learning stuff. Having fun."
Based on reactions, the 'learning stuff' scored high on the mom scale. The 'having fun,' not so much. "But not too much fun," I tacked on quickly.
She put her hand on top of mine. Now it was really going to start getting deep. Any time that she went for the physical contact, well, I wish she would have prepared better. There were no boxes of tissue nearby.
"I know your boyfriend will be along."
Oh God, please, don't do this mom. Please, I beg of younot the sex talk. "Uh huh." What could I say, really?
"And I know that you two will probably have some time together, alone."
Here's where that blushing thing was starting, for both of us. She's broached this subject with me before. A few times, really. There's different versions. For a while it was the straight version. Then came the 'I love you no matter' version; that was because I really started getting serious about softball, I think. Now she's back to the boy/girl stuff. And I know she knows stuff about this, but it's hard enough to talk to a mom about sex, but it's kind of harder when you know that you were the product of the mating between a woman and a plastic syringe.
Not that I think there's anything wrong about the way I was conceived. I'd be the last one to complain, after all, considering that without mom's playtime with the ol' plastic, I wouldn't be around.
"But please, before you do anything," geez she looks so earnest when it comes to this stuff. She gets those little wrinkles in her forehead and stuff. "Or think about doing anything, please think about the implications."
But was it so much to ask for the floor to just open up and swallow me now? I mean, that'd be fair, right?
"I want you to know if you have any questions, about anything, you can talk to me."
"I know, mom." It was hard to make eye contact. For her, anyway. She kept looking down.
"If you want to go to the doctor, to get any sort of"
"Mom?" About this point I started getting over feeling bad for me, and really started feeling bad for her. I mean, seeing what parenting does to her, does she really think that I'd do something too stupid? We can be a lot alike sometimes.
I moved my hand to where I could squeeze hers. That got her attention, or at least brought back the eye contact. "Mom, it's ok. I'm not," ok, eye contact doesn't mean that the embarrassment ends. "I'm not ready. You know?"
I'm not sure that I've ever seen the woman so happy. She started hugging me. Then that whole tears things started up, right on schedule. Of course, then I had to start crying.
Mom and I are just way too close, sometimes. I think this trip is going to be a good thing for both of us.
I was wondering, later, if I could find a good way to tell her that. It wasn't like she was going to leave my side too much. She was around everywhere for the next several days.
But she's my mom, and I love her. What could I say, 'mom, stop caring so much?' She practically camped out in my room the night before I left, when I was trying to get some amount of packing done.
"This is all you're bringing?"
My mom has to be the only person who encourages someone to travel with more luggage than one can humanly carry. It's no wonder we don't travel together often. "This is it, mom."
Not totally true, maybe. It wasn't quite all of it, but it was most of it. I knew she'd probably be going through everything. Repacking, or whatever, but still going through. I had a few things stashed in my backpack. I mean, who can tell their mom everything? Right?
Besides, if she would have found the stuff I was hiding - like the map to The Bette Porter Gallery from the hotel, she would have most likely flipped out.
