So

So.
Somehow my mom got it into her head that I was dating one of my colleagues from work.
I shouldn’t say “somehow.” I think I can recall the conversation that gave rise to this idea, but my mother, being who she is, took it and ran with it to whole new, high and unexpected levels.
To make a short story long:
The department I work in at my university is worried about enrollment and recruitment. I don’t think that’s all that unusual in these economic times, and if our enrollment doesn’t grow, our department can’t grow and then enrollment doesn’t grow…it’s a vicious circle.
So.
We are supposed to go out to the area high schools when they produce plays , watch the plays, and then talk to the kids afterwards about coming and joining our program. The problem with this is: I’m cripplingly shy. Yes, so shy that it’s difficult for me to speak to strangers. Yes, even high school kids. So my colleague Brad volunteered to go with me. We’d partner up.
The weekend Brad and I were supposed to go see our high school play, my mom wanted me to come home and visit her (she lives 3-4 hours away from me.) Relieved I had an excuse to not go get driven crazy by my mom, when she called I airily told her, “I can’t this weekend. I have a date.”
Didja ever see that episode of “Scrubs” when JD has an operatic tenor sing out ‘mistaaaake!’ every time JD makes one? Imagine that here.
So.
My mom came to visit me a weekend or so ago and she asks me how my ‘relationship’ is going. I’m quite confused. My mother and I don’t communicate well at all, but she finally gets me to remember my ‘mistaaaake’. She reminds me of my ‘date.’ Except, in her mind, I’ve told her about several such dates. Two at least, she insists. WTF?
“Mother, I am NOT dating anyone.”
“Yes, you told me about them.”
“No, no, I have not been on a date in many years.”
“Yes, you’ve been on at least two…”
“No Mother. NO dates—“
Yes, you called me and told me all about them.”
“Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. MOM! LISTEN TO ME:I have not been on a date in over ten years, unless you want to count going out with Bram while we were married. I have NOT been on ANY dates since Bram died. I do not foresee myself ever going on any dates ever again. EVER.”
So.
Yes, my mom is more than slightly nuts. I know she doesn’t really hear or see me. I don’t mean that as in, she’s in her own little world, near-catatonic. No. She has never really seen ME. She always seemed to see my sister quite clearly and hear her and I don’t know…pay attention to her. After my sister died, that seeing passed on to my niece, my sister’s child. My mom doesn’t SEE me. I can’t explain it. She has always talked over me and rearranged my past to suit her needs. Whatever.
Two months after Bram died, at Christmas, she asked me why I wasn’t feeling better. Hello? My husband died in my arms while the kids and I tried desperately to save him. The man I loved more than anything or anyone in the world…but yeah, I’ll just put that behind me in two months and move on with my life. And I guess start dating again ASAP.
Bram could make my mom hear and see me. I don’t know how. His gaze on me made me shine, become more real to her? I don’t know. I didn’t speak to her once for almost 4 full years. Bram stood by my decision to not be wounded by her any more. He protected me from her. He protected me from many things.
Post Script: When I told my colleague Brad we had been on two dates, he immediately asked me out, because as he said, “Guess what happens on the third date?” Brad is a very nice man and a good friend. But not my Bram. No one is.
Post Post Script: Bram used to point out to me all the time that I preface my stories with the word “so.” He thought it was cute, a quick way of saying, “listen I have something to share.”
SO. Every ‘so’ in this story is for my Baby.