The “Dinner” with the “Mother”
I just got back from dinner, and there’s a lot going through my head.
It wasn’t a -bad- dinner, I guess. She offered to pay, which was fine with me. She didn’t ask any demeaning questions about my religion or anything like that, probably because my sister was there.
I don’t know, I thought I went to the dinner to try and figure out what she was up to, but I couldn’t sense anything. There were no hints or ulterior motives. It was just….dinner.
Obviously I won’t ignore the fact that this is the same woman who only 6 months ago was threatening to sue me and calling me a devil-worshipper. Or that this woman is capable of relentless lying and scheming. Or that I haven’t even been around her for more than 10 minutes in probably 8 years.
But in a way it was still very sad. She has aged a lot in the last 8 years, moreso than she probably would if she wasn’t under all the stress of this custody battle. She could barely walk, mostly just hobbling side to side, using my sister for support when stepping down from a curb. She had a hard time reading small print, and I could notice all of the new wrinkles and aging in her complexion than I remember from highschool. It was hard to make eye contact, and I didn’t do it as much as possible. It made me uncomfortable.
It gave me a lot of conflicting thoughts. Here is a woman who was a vile human being to her first born, had a great job which she threw away, had several marriages, gave herself up, and now she’s all alone. Living rent-free with her 70 year old father, working part-time for $8/hour, knowing every single day that her first child despises her.
It’s almost like watching a rabid dog sitting in a cage. You know it’s evil and you want nothing to do with it, but at the same time you sympathize with the poor suffering beast. It’s confusing. And I don’t know if I should feel guilty or just sad. I won’t allow myself to feel guilty because I did nothing wrong, but I don’t know if I can be forgiving, and I know I can’t forget.
When we left, my mother asked for a hug. I leaned down and gave her a small one, and glanced over at my sister, who was smiling. Smiling because no doubt she was happy that she thinks things will begin to repair themselves between my mother and I.
That left me even more confused. I just don’t think they will.
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