OBLIGATION?

I can’t avoid it any longer. I’m taking my mother to lunch today. May heaven help me. Somehow I believe she dreads it as much as I do. No, I didn’t give her a choice of restaurants because she would sweetly say,’You select it, Sue. You go out much more than I do.’ Mom is 68. I am 39, which should allow us to connect, enjoy each other, but it never works out that way. Mom asked me what she should wear to Estafan’s. ‘How about your light gray suit with a bright red blouse or turtle neck shirt? ‘ It seemed I gave her a good plan.

In the morning I call to tell Mom I’ll pick her up at noon but she asks me to make it 12:15. ‘That gives me more time to dress.’ ‘Sure, 12:15. See ya.’ She’s waiting on the front porch and waves me into the driveway, all the way in, wearing navy blue slax, a white blouse and red jacket. Mom looks like an old American flag. I say nothing to avoid an argument. Estafan’‘s is a short drive.

One of Mom’s steady Bridge players had casually mentioned my mother had left the group, the group she said she adored, and gave no reason. ‘Hey, Mom. I heard from your friend Bea that you left the group and didn’t say why. Is that true?’ Her lips are a sealed steel trap. A lady pushing a stroller catches Mom’s eye and gives her an immediate out to drop the bridge subject and to beat on me some more. Isn’t that little girl adorable? Look at the precious outfit her mother has dressed on her today.’ My blood is getting hot, won’t stay under control much longer. ‘Mom, for the last time Harry, and I have decided one child is enough. Stop nagging me about it. Did I tell you how many kids to have? You chose one and here I am waiting for you to zonk me again.’

The hostess at Estafan’s takes us to a table for two that is a perfect size, not too little, not too big. It is in a nice spot with several other occupied tables for two around us. We aren’t isolated or stuck in a corner. Mom doesn’t like our table and asks to be seated on the other side of the room. ‘Madam, there are no tables for two on the other side of the room,’ she is told in no uncertain terms. ‘Then please give us a table for four and we will be able to put our handbags on the chairs instead of the floor.’ I can see the anger in the hostess’ eyes while she surely sees the determination in my Mom’s. I wished I could hide behind her and melt away.

As soon as we sit down,, Mom orders the hostess to send the waitress right away. ‘We’re hungry.’ I look straight at the hostess, let her see my displeasure, my embarrassment. I shrug my shoulders, put a quizzical look on my face and hand Mom a menu. ‘Mom, the tomato/lobster bisque is good enough to die for. I’m getting a bowl instead of a cup and then a shrimp salad scoop with a baked potato.

Want to try these?’ ‘Sue, I’m a big girl now. I can choose my own lunch.’ Oh, that mother of mine. I’d like to kick her in the ass. Mom stares at the menu, goes over it and over it, examining every item., while our waitress stands by her side, tapping her pen on the order pad, and glowers. ‘O.K. I’ve finally made up my mind. I’ll have a bowl of lobster bisque and a scoop of shrimp salad with those delicious fried sweet potatoes Estafan does so well.’

My self control amazes even me until I offer Mom coffee or tea with a scrumptious dessert. ‘Daughter, don’t you know yet I don’t drink coffee and I always get a large plate of fresh seasonal fruit. I hope they have blueberries today. You do torture me, Sue. Why?’ ‘One decaf coffee, one tea, Lord Grey. And I’ll have a brownie with vanilla ice cream and hot fudge.’ I get the check and Mom grabs it roughly from my hand. I let go and make a scene. ‘Damn you, Mother, you are my guest.’ The people on each side of us give me dirty looks. ‘You are–you are–,’ and no more words come out. She thrusts her Visa card on top of the check and tells me to shut up. I do.

Haughtily she walks in front of me to the exit, stops to tell the hostess how much we enjoyed lunch and as discretely as possible, hands her five bucks. I open the car door for Mom and drive her home, pull into the driveway just as she tells me, ‘drive in, all the way in.’ Mom doesn’t rush to leave. She sits still and starts to peel off her new nail polish. ‘Mom, stop that, you just had your nails done yesterday.’ She stops for a second, leans over and kisses me on the cheek. ‘Sue, this was lovely. It was really nice being with you and the bisque is almost enough to die for. Let’s go back there again in a week or two.. By the way, have you made an appointment yet with an obstetrician? In vitro isn’t easy, might not work and you are running out if time.’ I wave good-bye. Harry is trimming the hedges. ‘How was it, Sue?’ ‘You know, so don’t ask.’

I go in the house and call Mom just to say, ‘Mom, you are a real case, a pain in the neck case, but hell- I love you anyhow.’