too uppity, too cheery
published: 2011-01-24“How are you, dear?” my mother asks. I can tell by her voice something’s wrong. She’s a little too uppity, cheery. She’s worried about something she’s done. She’s worried about how I’ll react. Even though I have long stopped being the child who’s reactions can be fierce.
“We had a wonderful trip,” my mother says, “really fun, you know at that crazy Egyptian-themed party and it was crazy, haha. Ehm. Ha.”
“How great,” I say.
“So, ha-ha, ehm anyway we also happened to pass by the Bode’s.”
“The who?” I heard right the first time. But I am thinking. Fast.
“The Bode’s.”
“Okay.”
“Yes so you know, Dad thought we could make a small detour considering we were close to Paris anyway, and then we were late and all and so we actually ended up staying the night, and Anna Bode was lovely. She really is lovely.”
“Yes, she is.”
“And I did actually talk to Anna about Gabriella, you know, I really did, I mean I asked her what was going on with Gabriella and I told her I thought it was a grave thing she never confronted her own daughter with what she’d done. A really grave thing. I mean – and this is what I told her – Gabriella was dear to us too. She was always at our place. Always. She not only owes you an explanation but us too, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“So Anna said she’d talk to Gabriella. But – ehm – she asked me for your email address. And so I gave it, right. So, well, it’s like that. She said she’d see what she could do.”
“It’s okay mama,” I say. “It’s okay.”
“You can ignore Anna’s email? Hey, you know what? Yes. Just delete it straight away, okay?”
“Oh no, I would never ignore Anna.”
“…”
“But I will ignore Gabriella if she ever decides to contact me.”
“I know, I know. I’d be really angry too.”
“I’m not angry, I simply don’t want to go there. I don’t want anything to do with her anymore. It’s gone now. Finally.”
“But just throw Anna’s email away then, right?”
“Mama.”
“Yes?.”
“It really is okay.”
“…”
“So, ehm, thank you mama.”
“…”
“Listen mama, I have to go now.”
“Ehm. All right then. So everything’s fine?”
“Yes, great. How about you and Dad?”
“Fine, fine. We had such a good time.”
“Good.”
And I hang up. And I think of how angry I should be at Gabriella for causing all this.
Mama, really though: it’s okay.