Rena Oblong and I took a lovely excursion to the flesh, last night, understanding that this is what it is, it is nothing more. I had serious objections to this, but stayed mum. I gotta admit I got connected to her, while i was inside her, but I didnt let on..
I allowed my poor body to be rejuvenated by her lovely ministrations of mouth and full feminine open rapacity . She seemed to need to use my flesh for a purpose. What it was I dunno, but I kept my ignorance to myself.. ignorance, I have found, is best kept in one's portfolio for later..
I dreamed of a wedding...Dad was there,so was the dog, but mom was not...
Yet we woke this morning in a tangle of bedsheets, apart.Forty miles apart.
I kissed her and said something sophisticated. An “I’ll call you”. Which was sincere. But..i had to get distance from this experience, this wicked bacchanalia of skin we had shared , in order to make it “good”. It didn’t feel good this morning. It felt too needy, for me. I hate being needy. I am a man, goddammit.
I went home, which is my parents’ house. I tried to be quiet, using my key. 6 a.m…I wanted to get up to my room for a few hours’ sleep, but there was Mother. In her rocking chair. Dressed as she was yesterday. In old lady jeans and a sweatshirt that said, “black dog”, because our dear Joseph was a lab mix.
“Hey , look what the cat dragged in, “ she said. Her small hands were folded in her lap. The t.v. was on mute, CNN. Something about a blind Chinese guy making Hillary’s life difficult. I asked her about it.
“Just me, mom. Whatcha watchin’?” I descended to cross legged status at her feet. I loved watching the news with her. She had a treasure trove fulla 20th century attitudes that needed tweaking,but also captured in my Imagination, for later, when I figure out the history of the world.
She explained about this poor fucker. Blind and hospitalized yet somehow uncertain about whether he wanted to come over here for good.hillary was in a red pantsuit, on tv. Mom certainly didnt let that one pass......she hates Hillary, ever since she said in 92 she aint the kinda mom who stays home baking cookies....
“Oh , I thought it might be useful, watching about China, because the latest bullying thing involves a Chinese boy, ‘” she said and sighed. Dad, the principal of the high school where Rena and I worked, was sleeping but would be up soon.
His high school was beyond his 1940’s boyscout control, he knew it, that is why he hired Rena and me. Dad has dementia. Of an odd sort. Allows him to revert to childish innocence, with the full knowledge that Mom and me got his back.
“Yeah, Rena and I worked all night on that one, “ I said, too tired to be anything but silly.
“Oh I am sure you did. Mz Oblong is a dish. I hope you can handle her,” mom sighed. The blind Chinese fellow who only wanted a bit of “rest” flashed across the screen. Some Caucasian gargoyle was on the phone with him: a Republican old man. Arg.
“Do you know about the issue,” Mom said. Mom was well read on it.The high school bullying problem.
“Nope. The boy was Chinese American. Very smart. He got beaten up in the boy’s room. His mom is a super lawyer. She is sueing…that’s all I know.”
“Well, the story is more than you know. He is indeed Chinese American, and his mother is a lawyer, a career gal, a modern woman, you know..like your Mz. Oblong,” Mom sighed.
“Ok, so what went down,” I said as I laid back on the comfy carpet and listened to mom..
“He wore an offensive shirt, this chinese American boy. It said, ‘ATHEISM RULES’. Some very , ah, stupid boys stripped him of his shirt, and put his head in the toilet. Boys from good families. Your father knows all of them. But..” Mom sighed again and adjusted her glasses. She turned off the tv. She got up and said, “young man, you don’t know how much a mother worries. I was up all night, when you didn’t come home. But I see you are, uh, well cared for. I like your Mz. Oblong. She can help you in this.”
I was dizzy . with lack of sleep, and the hypnotic cadence of mom’s words….
“Atheism yes. The mother is livid.”
“she is a what, an atheist? This mother? “
“She is more than that. She is a public figure. And she wants a meeting with your father. Which your father is incapable of attending. After..y ou know..” Mom had a slug of sherry from a tiny cup. I cringed.
“When? The meeting?”
“Today, 3 p.m. In your father’s office.” Mom put the glass down and said, “ I am going to get a nap. Your father will be up soon. Please, James..make sure he walks Joseph ….a proper walk…Joseph is ok today, no chance of storms..” Mom was asking something of me I did not exactly understand. When this happens, I follow literal meaning. I don’t add anything to it.
“Ok, Mom. “ I stretched out on the couch for a small nap.
Mom went upstairs, to her bedroom.
Dad was stirring in the “guest room”, where he was exiled due to excessive snoring and muttering in his sleep 2 years ago. I heard Mom’s door close and Dad’s open.
I was almost asleep on the couch, listening to the birds outside the sliding glass door, in front of which Joseph stirred from his coma of trauma, and good tranquil drugging to doggy nirvana. Dad entered the living room as Joseph came heroically to his feet.
“Hllo, Jim, “ he said . “Hlo dog. Where is yer mother,” he said, 1/16th awake. But oddly enough, as sane as he would get all day.
“She is sleeping, Dad, “ I said.
“Mm. Well, good. I gotta go to the bathroom and then take this damn dog on a walk, yuh, yuh,” he said, pushing Jospeh off him. I couldn’t believe Joseph wanted to walk with Dad again, especially after yesterday…
Joseph followed him to the bathroom, as always, to guard the door as Dad took an ancient poop...
and then.......a flurry of activity, man and dog joined......and......
Dad was gone. He said, “Get some rest”, and I was a good obedient son and curled up...on the couch, still warm from Mom.....
I heard the two of them, that decrepit old dog and decaying old man, go out the front door.
“Alright you bad dog. We’ll go for a short walk. A short one! I’m not young any more. Neither are you. ..”
I fell asleep thinking of something Rena said:
“It’ll be bad when this dog goes, Jimmy. When he has to be put down. They’re too old to get another dog.” She had said this after the adventure yesterday. I’d concurred.
“Well, “ I managed, “That is what the power of faith is for. Pray for Joseph,” I advised her.
“Ok, I will. Will you show me how to pray?”
“Yeah, I will, if you are a good girl,” I had said.
Turned out she was very good indeed.