to break into song but instead she set her mouth in a bitter teenage grimace Honey would have been proud of.
‘See, this is what Bob has done to us, don’t you see?’
I shook my head, briefly wondering if it was even worth contradicting her. Okay, Bob might be a bit wrapped up in his script, but that didn’t make him the root of all evil. Despite a sane little voice inside my head that said to let it go, I blurted, ‘I don’t think you can blame Bob for that, Sarah. Besides, I got my first period at school, so what was I supposed to do, send you an e-mail? “Dear Sarah and Bob, I am having my period today”?’
‘Can’t you see, you should have been able to sharesomething as momentous as that with your own mother? But no, Bob always had to be the centre of attention. Bob and his Big …’ she paused, about to say ‘One,’ but after a short hesitation she said, ‘Opus. Your father was like a vacuum of need, and I was always too focused on him when I should have been more focused on you, Calypso. That’s what my therapist taught me.’
Therapist? You’re seeing a therapist?’ I don’t know why I said this when Sarah was giving every indication that she was going gah-gah and in need of professional help. I guess it was a shock, Sarah being so totally boring, grown-up and happy with Bob. Also, it’s never easy to find out your own mother is in therapy. Your parents are meant to be rocks of solid purpose in a sea of turmoil.
‘Of course I am. Everyone in LA is in therapy,’ she declared.
‘But you’re not gah-gah!’ I lied.
‘Oh, don’t be so English, darling. It was Bunny who suggested I leave Bob and come here to spend more time with you. I still talk to her every day on the phone. She’s awfully good, Calypso. She’s made me realise how I have always put Bob first and how I have allowed his needs to oppress me all these years.’
‘Who is this Bunny woman and how would she know whether or not Bob’s oppressed you, Sarah? This is mad. Bob couldn’t oppress a fly. He’s got his faults, I’ll grant you what with his appalling dress sense and those horriblenoises he makes when he eats, but that can’t be classed as oppression, even by Hollywood standards.’
‘Bunny is my therapist. She warned me that you might become hostile at the news of losing your father so suddenly.’
‘I haven’t lost him. I e-mailed him the other day. And he e-mailed me straight back. He’s still my father even if he is annoying.’
She glared at me and I glared right back, and then I realised the waiter was standing there, and I went bright red.
Sarah took charge, slipping seamlessly from gah-gah loon to her mother superior bossy boots. We’ll have two large thick-crust pizzas, thank you, double the cheese, double the pepperoni –’
‘But I don’t want pepperoni,’ I interjected.
Sarah ignored me, waving my words away as if I were the mad one. ‘Double everything in fact, and triple the carbs!’ she insisted, glaring at me in a very oppressive way.
The waiter looked clearly unnerved and turned to me for support. I smiled reassuringly at the poor guy. He was only about nineteen and quite fit, I noticed. Two large. One Hawaiian, and one pepperoni and two Diet Cokes,’ I told him sweetly. ‘And make those thin crusts,’ I added firmly as I gave Sarah a warning stare.
She didn’t say another word until the pizzas arrived, and then she thanked the waiter effusively. We ate our meal in cold silence. I expect she had found this particularmother-daughter bonding session a bit of a letdown. I wondered how she’d describe it to her therapist, Bunny. But then after a while I began to feel bad because, whatever was going on with her and Bob, she was definitely going through a difficult time (although I was starting to think this Bunny might be more responsible than Bob for this whole drama). So as we were leaving the restaurant, I took my mad madre’s hand in mine and thanked her for lunch. Would you like to have a
‘See, this is what Bob has done to us, don’t you see?’
I shook my head, briefly wondering if it was even worth contradicting her. Okay, Bob might be a bit wrapped up in his script, but that didn’t make him the root of all evil. Despite a sane little voice inside my head that said to let it go, I blurted, ‘I don’t think you can blame Bob for that, Sarah. Besides, I got my first period at school, so what was I supposed to do, send you an e-mail? “Dear Sarah and Bob, I am having my period today”?’
‘Can’t you see, you should have been able to sharesomething as momentous as that with your own mother? But no, Bob always had to be the centre of attention. Bob and his Big …’ she paused, about to say ‘One,’ but after a short hesitation she said, ‘Opus. Your father was like a vacuum of need, and I was always too focused on him when I should have been more focused on you, Calypso. That’s what my therapist taught me.’
Therapist? You’re seeing a therapist?’ I don’t know why I said this when Sarah was giving every indication that she was going gah-gah and in need of professional help. I guess it was a shock, Sarah being so totally boring, grown-up and happy with Bob. Also, it’s never easy to find out your own mother is in therapy. Your parents are meant to be rocks of solid purpose in a sea of turmoil.
‘Of course I am. Everyone in LA is in therapy,’ she declared.
‘But you’re not gah-gah!’ I lied.
‘Oh, don’t be so English, darling. It was Bunny who suggested I leave Bob and come here to spend more time with you. I still talk to her every day on the phone. She’s awfully good, Calypso. She’s made me realise how I have always put Bob first and how I have allowed his needs to oppress me all these years.’
‘Who is this Bunny woman and how would she know whether or not Bob’s oppressed you, Sarah? This is mad. Bob couldn’t oppress a fly. He’s got his faults, I’ll grant you what with his appalling dress sense and those horriblenoises he makes when he eats, but that can’t be classed as oppression, even by Hollywood standards.’
‘Bunny is my therapist. She warned me that you might become hostile at the news of losing your father so suddenly.’
‘I haven’t lost him. I e-mailed him the other day. And he e-mailed me straight back. He’s still my father even if he is annoying.’
She glared at me and I glared right back, and then I realised the waiter was standing there, and I went bright red.
Sarah took charge, slipping seamlessly from gah-gah loon to her mother superior bossy boots. We’ll have two large thick-crust pizzas, thank you, double the cheese, double the pepperoni –’
‘But I don’t want pepperoni,’ I interjected.
Sarah ignored me, waving my words away as if I were the mad one. ‘Double everything in fact, and triple the carbs!’ she insisted, glaring at me in a very oppressive way.
The waiter looked clearly unnerved and turned to me for support. I smiled reassuringly at the poor guy. He was only about nineteen and quite fit, I noticed. Two large. One Hawaiian, and one pepperoni and two Diet Cokes,’ I told him sweetly. ‘And make those thin crusts,’ I added firmly as I gave Sarah a warning stare.
She didn’t say another word until the pizzas arrived, and then she thanked the waiter effusively. We ate our meal in cold silence. I expect she had found this particularmother-daughter bonding session a bit of a letdown. I wondered how she’d describe it to her therapist, Bunny. But then after a while I began to feel bad because, whatever was going on with her and Bob, she was definitely going through a difficult time (although I was starting to think this Bunny might be more responsible than Bob for this whole drama). So as we were leaving the restaurant, I took my mad madre’s hand in mine and thanked her for lunch. Would you like to have a
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