Blood Sugar(39)
But then I remembered how after my first big fight with Roman, the one about me enjoying when others knew my name when I didn’t know theirs, he later put his make-amends note in my textbook, in the narcissist section. I always assumed he was admitting that he was a narcissist, flaring obliques and all. But maybe he was poking fun at the fact that I was the narcissist. Which would put me a step closer to Gertrude. Who now sat in her dining room area with Jason, who was dutifully saying that the next time he came over he would fix the creak in the back screen door.
I found mugs in the cabinet above the coffee maker, and brought in two cups of hot coffee. I put one in front of Gertrude, asking if she wanted anything else. Sugar? Cream? Not that I knew where any of that was. It was odd that I was playing hostess in her home, but it was another way to put me on edge, while she maintained control.
She said no, she liked her coffee black. She took a sip and then spit it back into the cup. I thought maybe it was too hot, so I took a sip of my own, to test it. It was the perfect temperature.
She looked at me and calmly said, “You did this on purpose.”
I looked at her. “Excuse me?”
Jason jumped in, “Mom?”
Gertrude said, “She made this coffee so strong it’s undrinkable. Just to prove some sort of point.”
I sighed. Sadly not surprised by her paranoid outburst.
Jason said, “Mom. I don’t see what point that could possibly be.”
Jason was trying. I knew that. But the intense love I felt for him was draining from me. If my devotion to him was oxygen and I wore a space suit that had a rip in it, my low-levels warning siren would be blaring. The feeling that Jason and I were on the same team was also plummeting, so I quickly regrouped my insides for my own self-preservation. I felt like I was in enemy territory, the hundreds of frogs inching forward to attack me, their buggy eyes turning from kitschy to menacing. I needed to get out of Gertrude’s house immediately. I stood up from the table.
“Jason, can I speak with you privately?”
I wanted to tell him this was a big mistake, coming here to his mother’s house. She hated me and that was that, but I wouldn’t stick around and be accused of making coffee too strong on purpose, especially when I made it weaker than I normally would have to appease her! But I didn’t have a chance to say any of those things, because Gertrude wouldn’t accept me speaking to Jason privately. She gently turned to her son as he was about to stand and said to him, “I won’t have her turning you against me. If she wants to say anything in my house, she can say it to my face.”
Sure, there were many things I wanted to say to her face. I wanted to call her a big cunt with bad taste in art, to accuse her of being a horrible mother, a despicable, manipulative, damaged snake of a person. I wanted to take a coffee mug and break it against the table and use a shard of thick mass-produced ceramic to cut open her jugular.
But my training in dealing with the mentally ill kept me calm, and I knew nothing I screamed at her would make me feel any better in the long run, and it would only give her proof that I was the problem. She could report back to her friends that I had the nerve to call her a cunt in her own home, in front of Jason and her frogs! I refused to give her any more ammunition to use against me.
So all I said was, “Gertrude, this visit clearly isn’t working out. I’m going to leave now. Goodbye.”
I grabbed my purse, which I had left near the front door in the living room. She was delighted to see me going, and she stood to slam the door behind me. But she didn’t expect Jason to also stand and start to leave with me.
She spat out, “And where are you going?”
“Mother, your behavior is not okay. We can talk about it another time, but right now I’m leaving with Ruby.”
And with that the love level in my tank bolted up past the emergency low mark and the warning sirens in my head quieted. I think I must have smiled at Jason. And my smile pushed Gertrude over the edge. “Then get out!” she screamed. “Get out!” And she kicked me. Right in the shin. Jason was shocked. I was stunned. Mostly that the cobra in her had turned a little pit bull.
Jason and I walked out together, hand in hand. The frog door knocker slapped against the wood as we shut the door. Jason would never see his mother again. I, however, would not be so lucky.
“He was a handsome man,” Detective Keith Jackson casually remarked while glancing at the photo of Jason.
“Yes, he was,” I said.
“Who did he take after?”
“Excuse me?”
Detective Jackson waxed on. “I look exactly like my mother. No offense to her. And my sister, if you can believe it, looks like our father. I’m just wondering, did Jason take after his mom, Gertrude? Same-shaped face, or ears? Lots of hereditary markers in the ears.”
I had been thinking about Gertrude seconds before, but her name coming out of the detective’s mouth was even more jarring than hearing desk-duty guy mention my veterinarian.
“What?” I answered reflexively.
The detective tried again. “You have met Gertrude Hollander, haven’t you?”
“Yes. Of course I have,” I said.
Detective Jackson nodded, as if to confirm I was correct. He sat still for a moment, and was in no hurry to flip over the fourth photo. He made it clear with his body language that we were going to stay on the topic of Jason, and his mother, for a while. And I made it clear with my body language, as best I could, that because I had nothing to hide, that was just fine by me. I even smiled a little. Because I could tell the giant strong detective was now getting chilly himself, since the air-conditioning never stopped blowing. I remembered reading somewhere that the reason women always seem cold is because most office buildings, museums, theaters, and the like have temperature controls designed to keep a man who weighs about 170 pounds, wearing a full suit, comfortable. Leaving women to fend for themselves with small space heaters and shawls. I took comfort in knowing that this interview was breaking the detective down, just as much as it was rubbing me raw.