The Last Sweet Days

3, August 2013

THE MOM:

Alex turned 26 this week. Rather than celebrate in a urine-scented house in the Berkshires, we aimed for a stylish night out and about in Manhattan, three hours away. A New York friend had organized a Big Birthday Dinner at Morton’s, a steak house on W 45th—a friend who in the past has always always picked up the tab and I had no reason to think he would not do the same last Wednesday. Just shows how wrong you can be.

The bill came, no one moved, no hand reached out, so eventually I got out my Amex card, opened the naugahyde folder and nearly dropped dead: over $700 for 5 of us. And this was half price apparently, it being “New York Restaurant Week” or something. And then I saw the $76 for the bottle of wine which I never in a million years would have picked, the friend had let the Maître D’, his (kind of) nephew, do it. Christ. Plus the tip. Felt like bursting into tears, almost did. Had to go down to the Ladies to get a grip. Hating that we have no money, hating that a stupid restaurant bill could make me cry, hating the friend who knows the situation we’re in but “organizing” a night that was going to cost me money I don’t have, plus him saying he’d “organized a cake” which turned out to be a squirt of whipped cream with a raspberry and a candle in it.

But loving my son, who followed me down the stairs and put his arms around me and told me the only thing he wanted for his birthday was to have me not cry anymore.

Am working on that.

Anyhow, the friend chipped in because I told him what his share was. If I’ve learned anything as I get older it’s to speak up, then and there, and not do it Brit style, which is to say nothing at the time but then complain about it for the next hundred years to people who can’t do anything about it.

We’re now back in the Berkshires and leave tomorrow for England. And we were all having an extremely pleasant night, boneless sirloin on the barbecue, amazing local Silver Queen sweet corn, and belated birthday cake—until my mother went demented because my father opened the door to the former-living-room-now-parent-quarters, just as she was trying to get the World’s Most Neurotic Collie to eat, God forbid she plunks the dog dish down out in the pantry and let the thing eat in peace—and the dog jumped a mile and flew back out into the pen, probably after a sneaky pee under the dining room table.

So then my mother stumbled out here to rant and rave about you name it and whatever I say, however much I try and explain things rationally, I get a lot of “Why don’t you ever take my side!!!” thrown at me and so here I am close to tears again, sorry Alex.

Who has somehow misplaced a box of his Subutex, he told me tonight, and has been having to stretch whatever he has left until he can get to the chemist back in England on Wednesday. Doesn’t appear to bother him too much, which is a good sign.

Other nice news: found a $14 dress at TJMaxx today en route from visiting my 94-year old former dancer friend for lunch, which I didn’t really have time to do but felt guilty if I didn’t go see her because I hadn’t manage it last time and I get so tired of feeling guilty and apologizing to people.

Other good news, my mother, earlier today, prior to the bout of irrational ranting, in other words when she was liking me, did indeed reimburse me for our trip and car rental. However, the local bank, which I got to just before closing (80 mph up Rte 8), didn’t have any big bills so I walked out of there and all through TJ’s with $6300 in twenties, thank you, wishing I’d brought a wheelbarrow, also that I could spend it, but it will go directly to DK’s account at HSBC.

As I drove back into the drive this afternoon a big tan coyote was standing in the middle of it. I stopped the car. We looked at each other for awhile, then it took off north into the forest. About twenty minutes later we heard it howling and then frantic shrieking, like something being eaten by a coyote. But The Great Stainer of Kitchen Carpets remains alive and unscathed in the dog pen (I checked) so it must have been some other critter who bought it.