The Diary of Queen Mothy |
Destiny in Destin. written @ 4:49 PM on July 28, 2002 Destin was beautiful. I went to Florida the summer after the ninth grade for the first time, and that was to visit Disney World once. I don't necessarily count that as seeing Florida. But Destin was gorgeous. If you were to go eight feet out into the Gulf water, you could still see down to the floor. And there were hundreds of schools of fish, many of which liked to jump out of the sea. They glistened in the sunlight. Those waters were full of wildlife. It was almost yielding. Truly, the Gulf makes you feel your mortality. And the sand-- a combination of quartz and silicon dioxide-- was pure white like snow and squeaked when you walked on it. The wildlife and the tropical weather aside, Destin is like the redneck's version of Myrtle Beach. Remember the Cajun guy from "The Waterboy?" Swear to God they exist, and both males and females talk like the Cajun guy from the movie. One thing to mar the vacation, however, was the presence of my brother and my brother's best friend-- together. I've come to the conclusion that not only do these secular 15-year-olds act like they're 6, if that, but they're bigots. My dad-- and you know how impatient and irrational he can be-- seriously threatened to get a taxi and fly home on day two of our week-long vacation. Twice. And my mom is losing her rough edge. She's had her heart broken one too many times in recent years. I don't think either of them had a good time. My brother and that goddamned demon from down the street are idiots. I hope high school chews them up and spits them out. I tried to ignore all the "background noise" on the trip. I tried to ignore the seeds to disasters that were sewn that week, and attempted to keep thoughts clear in my mind and my focus acute. I enjoyed myself. But I think I resent the fact I enjoyed myself. And it sickens me to remind myself how many days I have left before I move out because it makes me feel selfish. My dad and I one evening took a long walk on the beach. We must have walked for two miles. And we said very little. He tried to provoke a "real" conversation; mostly, he muttered about how he was growing more and more impatient as he aged, and how he was ready to kill my brother and Andy. I think he wanted me to comment on the situation and agree with him, but the only thing I really could have said was, "They're 15 going on 7. They don't realize what they are doing, I don't think, they're just immature. It's mostly Andy that provokes it. You just have to ignore it." But I didn't say it-- because he would have only made excuses. He called them idiots and assholes all week, hardly ever by their names. On the last day of our trip, we went out to eat. He corrected them a bit too strongly and harshly in the lobby next to the bar. Not many people were around, but I know I would have heard it, and the whole situation was a bit too humiliating. After all, it was in a public setting. My mom was so upset. I sat across from my teary-eyed mother for the entire meal. I think even the waiter felt it was unnerving, but he was too professional to say anything. And what did my dad say? "Why are you so upset? Is it because you wanted a table outside?" God, how goddamned thick can you be? When my mom went to the restroom to dry her eyes and save the dignity she had left, I explained why she was upset to him. He became defensive and made excuses like usual. He felt she was being the unreasonable one and was letting the boys off too easy. I think our family is falling apart. I walked alone on the beach that night. To me, the ocean and the stars were the only thing that made sense in all the world. I felt so low in spirit that I talked to Venus. The planet was the most beautiful thing in the world in that span of moments, just as dusk was becoming heavy with darkness. I said, "Venus, there are days when I understand my father and see the goodness and erring in his ways, and there are days when he is a stranger or a shadow of his former self. He's the hero in his own Greek tragedy. On the other hand, I understand my mother more than I do myself. I love my father because he is capable of so much more than he thinks, but it's also for this precise reason that I cannot call him my hero like so many children can call their fathers heros. It is my greatest fear that he will only realize what he can do when he is dying and cannot do it. And I would never be my mother, as saintly as she is, because she is living in an emotionally abusive environment. It is my only blessing that I have 22 days left before I leave home." I rambled on for ten minutes like this. Then I went back to the apartment. As I walked into the door, my mother walked out. She still had tears in her eyes, but she pretended like they weren't there. "Did you go down to the beach?" she asked, evidently disappointed when she saw the sand in my sandles. "Yes," I said. "Do you want to go down?" I put out this question all in politeness, but truthfully, I could not handle a walk on the beach with her. All she would talk about are things I already knew. "Well..." Then I found my escape route. "Do I have things to pack?" asked sheepishly, for we were leaving the following morning. "Yes," she said, with a slight frown, "you have much to pack." "Then I'll do that." "Okay." I scuttled away and disappeared to my bedroom, and she went to the beach. It was very dark. I have to wonder what she said to Venus that night. In the past, if any of us fought, conflicts were usually resolved or forgotten the following morning. That has not happened since I squared off against my father this passed winter. Now when we fight we strive thirstily to gain every inch of the better ground. Things were uneasy as we rode home the next day. It was a long drive. I couldn't wait to get to Jeff's 18th birthday party. All I wanted was to be away from my family-- I began to resent every last one of them-- because I felt we had all spent too much time in each other's company this week. I wanted to be with real people, with real problems. Suzanne says Jenny has not been doing so well. Jeff has a new girlfriend. Ashley hates her second job. Real people with real problems having a real good time. It was midnight when I got home from the party. Dad was up waiting for me. He was in a good mood, and it made me happy. He was watching a Nascar rerun on ESPN. As I wished him goodnight and went to bed, he said to me, "I should have been a Nascar driver. I would have loved that. I am a good driver. Don't you think I should have been a Nascar driver?" It was just another example as to how thick the darkness has become around him. I only forced a smile and gave one of those, "whatever, dad, you're so silly" reactions. And sighed. We all should have been a lot of things.
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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