“Pros and Cons,” Collaboration with Bianca Gutman, Part 7/8
(See Bianca Gutman, Image 7)
Setting: Thea and her mother, Renee, are sitting at their kitchen table, each drinking a beer (continued from Part 6/8).
Of course the next day, she ambushed me. I mean, she didn’t say anything about it that morning; didn’t text me, nothing. Oh, no warning: I just walk in the door, after school, and she’s sitting there with these two suits, a man and a woman. One look, and I knew they were lawyers, too. And the thing is, she had to have talked to them before talking to me, the night before. We should have had that discussion, first, you know? She should have told me she’d already talked to somebody, at least.
I was trying so hard with her, too. I mean, I know it’d only been a day, not even, but I had made up my mind to change things between us, to start a whole new chapter, you know. I even said to her, You know, Mom, if we accepted one of the offers, if there is a good offer, at least we’d be able to control things, right? She said, Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t think we’ll be able to control much of anything, either way. I think we’ll just have to pick a course of action and proceed, she said, and I nodded.
So, here’s what I’m thinking, she said, pushing her beer bottle to the center of the table, clasping it between both hands. What we’ll do is, we’ll talk about each offer, then we’ll weigh the pros and cons of each offer, trying to think about it practically, not emotionally, she said.
Personally, I think—I mean, Mom, I can’t not talk about it as an emotional issue, I said, not being at all defensive, being really serious. Like how realistic is it to think this isn’t completely emotional for me, you know?
I mean the decision can’t be emotional. What you talk to these people about, of course—.
If I talk, I said. I’m not sure, until I hear what they want, you know?
Of course, she said, nodding, holding up her hands, pointing at me in this way like she was saying, Of course, Thea, you have to do what’s right, I’ll just be here to sound things off of. I’m serious, that’s how it was: it was such a good talk, I suddenly missed my mom so much, you know?
Looking at her, listening to her present her case, actually counseling me in this major decision, I had to wonder how often she thought about the life she might’ve led, had she not gotten pregnant, if she’d gone to law school. She could still go to law school, somehow. I mean, if we had a little money, I could send her back to school, myself. Maybe we could both go back to college, who knows. And then, sitting there, looking at her, I realized I never gave her enough support. She needed me, too. She needed to know that I believed in her, and I thought she could do absolutely anything, just like I used to think when I was a little girl.
I sat there, finishing my beer, and even that—I mean, even that, looking at the two of us, just sitting together, drinking a beer at the kitchen table, not even needing to talk to fill the silences. We’re just so chill, right. And it feels so good, right. And best of all, no Raymond in sight or sound . . . I knew it was my decision, but how could I possibly say no? If someone wanted to pay us, to pay me to to talk about Cam missing and all the crazy shit that was happening . . .? How? How could I possibly say no?
I mean, okay, let’s not talk about it as an emotional issue, but the practical issue was this: with my mom’s job being cut back now, if we couldn’t make our rent, our only other option would be to go and, I don’t know, live with my grandmother or something. If she’d have us, even. And of course she would. Actually, maybe it’d be good if I could start over somewhere, and then I felt this pang in my chest. More like a fist right to sternum, and just this seizing, because I didn’t think he was coming back, Cam. Thinking that way, I actually imagined my life was without him now, and that terrified me. He’s not dead, I thought, and my mom reached over, grabbing my hand.
Don’t worry, Thea, we’ll figure this out. We will, she said.
Can I just have the night to think about it before we sit down and, you know, review everything?
Of course, babe. Let’s talk about it tomorrow night. We’ll get some takeout, sit down, she said, nodding.
All right, I said, getting up to throw my bottle in the recycling. I needed to eat something, I felt a little light-headed from a single beer, it’s true. But I wanted to lie down and just be alone first.
Come here, Mom said, holding out her hand, and it’s terrible, I know, but my first response was to pull away from her. I actually had to fight the feeling to step over to her, and to let her put her arms around me. It was really difficult for me, and I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d felt her cheek on my stomach, the way she hugged me, seated.. It was strange, because I felt so out of body, like I could see us. I saw us more than I felt her, like her arms. Strange because I’d stood there, right between her legs every day when I was a little girl, and I now I couldn’t remember the last time I let her hug me like that.
So I hugged back, and I felt terrible, and I just forgot. I forgot how good it feels when my mom hugs me. I wanted to tell her, too, to say, I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you so much more, and I will. I’ll try, I promise. I mean, I thought this. And I felt bound by it, too, you know?
And the embarrassing thing is, I remember feeling like we were on the same page, and I felt so adult in a way, having this decision together, more like we were equals—or not equals, but at least I had a real voice in my own decision, you know? It felt really good, and I was sitting there, at the kitchen table, listening to her, how she was really talking to me, and I’m thinking, Why did I push her so far away? Why did I do that? I love this—I love being able to talk to her and really listen.
I leaned over to give her a kiss, and she grabbed me by both cheeks, like she used to. I’m going to lie down, meditate, I said, laughing, and she nodded, okay. When I got to my room, closed my door, I lay down on top of my bed, and I just stared at the ceiling. I remembered something Cam said, the first time he took me home. I mean, that very first time I had him over to our house, and my mom met him.
We pulled up to our building, and I said, It’s not much to look at, I know. Because it’s not. It looks like a strip mall motel more than anything, really. But he looked up at the building, and then he sat back, looking at me, and Cam said, One thing: don’t ever apologize for where you live. Not to anyone, he said, nodding. I couldn’t put it into words, but I knew exactly what he was saying, that you don’t give that power to somebody, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain all the things it made me feel, when he said that.
Seriously, I didn’t know what to say about that, though, so I just opened the door, trying to get out. But then the door wouldn’t open. It sticks sometimes, he said, give it a push. So I pushed, but I knew right away I didn’t push hard enough, so I pushed again, and I remember him making me laugh, saying, That’a'girl! I remember feeling like I was just buzzing that night, walking to my room, after he’d left, and my mom calling me, Hey, Thea, how’s tacos sound?
Looking at the ceiling, that night, six months later, I thought, Well, it’s not much, maybe, but it’s ours. And I’m safe here. Or at least as safe as I could be anywhere, really. I need that in my life, and my mom needs me now, so we’d just have to do something—I’d have to do something to make sure we didn’t lose that, too.
And I’m sorry, but then I just started thinking of all the things we really need. Like my mom needs a new car—doesn’t have to be anything fancy, but she needs a new car. And she needs some new clothes. And I don’t even know how much she owes her credit cards, but I bet they’re almost maxed. And things like, come on, she hasn’t been to a dentist in three years, because dental’s not on her insurance. I mean, just so many things I realized I could do for us, walking out the door, the next day. Actually kissing her goodbye, telling her I’d be home right after school, before I left.
And then: bam! I walk right into the trap, opening the front door. And you know what she said, my mom? She said, Oh, good, Thea. We’ve been waiting for you.