balding angrily

The Pool Story

They set up the buffet line on one end of the pool, and had patio tables spread out around the pool. My dorm was hosting a party for Parents Weekend for dormers, parents, and family. Dad, Mom, Younger Sister, and I got our food, and I led them to a table. (Older Sister will appear briefly in the next section. Be patient.) They asked me questions about dorm life, and I tried to give some kind of answer that wouldn’t give away that I was still drunk from the night before, or if not drunk, suffering from a hangover that made the barbeque taste like propane. Halfway to our table, Younger Sister asked where Mom went.

I answered that I just saw her “over there” pointing in a non-specific direction. To think about someone else’s location took brain away from dwelling on my current state, which was Wishing for Death with Parent Flavoring. Mom was looking up at us from the pool. We never heard a splash because there were so many echoes in the giant atrium. Her hair was plastered to her head, her mascara was running down her face, and her lipsticks, her potato salad, and her barbeque were floating around her like a mini-entourage, as if she was The Queen of The Underwater Land of Foodstuffs and Purse Contents. To hear her describe it after, she walked straight into the pool. She didn’t slip or misstep. She didn’t catch her heel on a cobblestone. No one pushed her. She just walked forward, her subconscious heeding the whispers of demons, telling her that the water would bear her aloft.

Last Saturday

We met Dad, Mom, Younger Sister, Older Sister, Cheeky Niece, and Too-Grown-Up Nephew for a classical concert of children that have no business being as good as they are. After, we went to Mi Cocina for an un-winder where we drank Mambo Taxis and ate fatty Mexican food. I think I’ve written about the joy of the Mambo Taxi and its ability to make the drinker horizontal…quickly and deliciously. Jerry probably has never seen my family as loose as we were. Usually we have little ones to tend to, but Older Sister, who wasn’t feeling well, took Cheeky Niece and Too-Grown-Up Nephew home.

Younger Sister, who loves tales of humiliation, brought up The Pool Story. We laughed…well, we did more than laugh…we belly-laughed; I hit the table with my open hand, Younger Sister cried with laughter, Dad got all toothy and red, and Jerry sat back and took it all in.

I said, “Before just now, I didn’t know we could laugh about that. I told Jerry this story a long time ago, but I told him never to bring it up.”

Mom said, “Well, really…what can you do? You have to laugh. I mean it was such a ridiculous situation. I just walked into the pool.”

Dad said to me, “That’s probably because immediately after it happened, I pulled you aside and told you, ‘This is serious. We won’t laugh at this.’”

Mom said something else, “Well Alex, you and I weren’t very close then. Remember? Now things are different.”

This is the part where I tell you Mom is, in cold technical terms, my stepmom and writing Mom instead of Stepmom was deliberate. At first I did it for convenience, but now I see it fits. Knowing that I can write this and share that kind of laughter with her…she deserves Mom. Earlier at the concert, she introduced Jerry and me to friends as “my son Alex and his partner Jerry.”

See. Sometimes, I can appreciate what I have now. I’m not ALWAYS all about what life was like when I was younger.

Coda

My biological mom exists, and I will always love her with all my heart, and she will be Mom also…which may make it hard for you, reader. How’s this? There’s Red-Haired Mom and Blonde Mom. Blonde Mom is married to Dad. Red-Haired Mom lives far away with White Beard. They live near Talky Sister and Harley Brother. There’s also Toothy Nephew and Baby Niece, but…you know, it took me this long to write about Dad and Blonde Mom…who knows if I’ll ever get to writing about all these other people?