Monday, July 10, 2017

Flowers For Kathy

You saw an 8 year old kid, laughing at & mocking you from the top of the stairs.
Your friend Susie thought it was horrible. Too bad (or maybe not) that you walked in on the epilogue of the movie. Had you been there a week before, you might have saved me from all that. It really doesn't matter anymore.
Looking on these events from 40+ years gone by, all Galt-in-Da-Box can say is, you may have believed that to be a pivotal point in my life. That was actually a couple days beforehand, when my mother - drunk on FemiNAZIism & out of cigarettes - beat the living shit out of me for the last time. After a long uncomfortable silence that ate up hours of a July day's afternoon, I went to her after one of the manipulative sob sessions she was engaged in (or so was my thinking at the time) and she amazed me by begging my pardon. I said I was willing to forget the whole thing and pretend it never happened, on a number of conditions: 
That she would never touch me again...ever...unless it was a medical emergency. That she got rid of the Hot Wheels sets she had bought me months ago and since then been using the race track to beat fuck out of me whenever she wanted. That she understood that I would provide what she expected of me at my descretion, and that only if she provided me a latch key and stopped being manipulative. That she got off her fucking lazy ass, off welfare & back to work instead of using me as a goddamned excuse to live off others thoughtlessly via the government. That she quit bringing drunks home to fornicate with, and especially the last part: That she understood - unequivocally and beyond exception - that I was never going to marry and there would be no carrying forward of this abusive line, directly because of her treatment, but that she might still have a fairly decent chance of avoiding a nursing home at retirement if these conditions were met, and that ONLY If they were met could there ever be peace between us.
That last part was made very clear, because there was a can of WD-40 and a fire starter in the back corner of my bedroom closet I was reserving as the ultimate weapon, if the Peace Treaty was rejected: I had literally nothing to lose! Fortunately for both of us, the Hot Wheels sets left the apartment the day after, and that "nuclear option" a few weeks after that.
To my amazement, I not only received complete capitulation, but mom turned her life around on a dime: The first few jobs were shaky, but the one she seemed to love and hold on to the longest was the Murphy's commissary one, where she must have been pretty well reimbursed, judging by the results.
I am sorry you were one of the most valuable prizes lost in this conflict you never knew anything about. I often wonder if you were the one, and how things might have gone with us, had I actually come from a family and upbringing that was better, but wonder is something in my life that died that year, under the crushing weight of many realities...the least of which have been related here. If you ever stumble upon and read this, know that you were special to me.
You must also know also by now that, in the days of our lives, there are many compromises made, and in a compromise, no party actually gets what they want.

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