Janet
July 3, 2002
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Homework
"But MOMMY!" I heard through the crowd in the food court.
"Janet!" Mommy replied. "You are not a child anymore, stop acting like one."
It was hard for me to find them at first. The food court in the U Mall (University Mall in Burlington) was jam-packed today because of the heat outside.
"But Mom! Dad said yes already." I could hear the exasperation in her young voice.
"You talked to HIM already? Why would you go over my head like that?"
"Because..." the daughter pouted.
"Because nothing! It's not going to happen!"
I was waiting not-so-patiently at the Toco Hell (yes I meant to write that) for my food, when I had heard that screech. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the "not child" and "Mommy."
Mommy looked to be in her mid-forties. It was hard to judge her age really, as teenagers tend to age their parents fiercely. She had dark red hair, and eyes that I am sure used to twinkle a lovely blue light. She seemed haggard, and drawn. She looked as though she would collapse at any moment. Her clothes were of a style that would make a stern business woman look like a clown in sheep's clothing. Despite her tired appearance, she looked as though she was ready to take on the world. If I had a daughter like hers, I probably would be prepared too.
Her daughter on the other hand, seemed full of piss and vinegar. This one had bright, almost platinum blond hair, with very dark roots and pink highlights. Her lips were painted a gaudy red and her eyeshadow was a striking silver. The makeup did not do wonders for her (I'm assuming based on her mother's face) otherwise attractive features. Her clothes would have made a hippie blush.
They were both tall and on the scrawny side, the mother from obvious over-exhaustion, the daughter from over-rambunctiousness. They shared many idiosyncrasies, from the way they cocked their heads to the same side, all the way down to the way they walked. I was very amused to just watch them. I missed the better part of their conversation.
"...but you said so damn it!" The daughter bellowed.
Her mother hurriedly looked around to see what kind of audience they were attracting. Then turned back to her daughter.
"I will not have you speak that way to me in public!" She grabbed her daughter's upper arm. "Do you understand me? Once upon a time, when your father and I saw things at the same level, I would have agreed to his judgement. But now he is nothing in our lives and you know that."
"That's not fair!" Her daughter cried.
"Stop it! You're making a scene! Do you want the whole world to know our affairs?"
The mother had turned away from me at this point, and was dragging her daughter towards the doors leading outside.
"Isn't it enough that I allow you to dress up like those three dollar whores that your father likes so much? Why must you put me through this hell..."
On occasion I could hear a high pitched "But MOM!" although I couldn't hear the responses her mother gave anymore.
The whole thing made me look back on my own life and wonder:
Was I that horrible to my mother when I was her age?
NOTE: This was an assignment for my CCV Creative Writing Workshop online class with Nancy Thompson.
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