82In which my mother plots and I meet my future wife
Needless to say, my parents were not quite pleased.
"I can't believe you're doing this too us." My mother was weeping. "After all the time, effort, and money we put into your re-education."
"Maybe I'm not the one who needs to be re-educated." I replied, coldly.
"Don't over re-act, Miriam." My father was calm. "It's a stage he's going through."
"It's a stage he's been going through since he was fourteen!" She wailed at him. "When is he going to grow out of it? When he's dead?"
I sighed and looked out the window as my father replied. "We'll just have to send him back to counselling."
"It won't work." I stated blandly, looking outside.
"We'll see about that." My father replied, borrowing my anger.
It was my mother's turn to try to be logical and calm. "Can't you even try to change, darling? I mean have you really tried not being...well you know."
I sighed again, shrugging her arm off mine, annoyed with her, the carriage, and every damned human creation. "I've been trying my whole damned life."
"Do not take that tone with your mother." I raised an eyebrow at my father.
"Dad, that hasn't worked since grade school." My father sighed and sat deeper into the seat, looking older than he'd ever looked. I frowned deeper, sad to be a disappointment.
"Well," My mother stated, firmly more to make herself believe than the others in the carriage. "Counselling will help cure your... problem."
"It's not a problem." I replied, slanting my eyes at her.
"Yes it is!" That is the first and last time I ever heard my mother yell.
No one dared to say a word after that. Until mother's cell phone rang.
"Don't answer!" My father and I yelled at practically the same time.
But it was too late and my mother answered, re-establishing her usual chipper self. "Hello?"
Her smile fell a bit. "Yes... it's...it's a phase. We hope."
I sighed and glanced away, wondering who had the gall to contact and ask the things this woman was asking. Suddenly my mother's eyes narrowed and she got that expression that was lethal when it came from mothers. That scheming 'it's the best thing for our reputation, but we can pass it off as the best thing for him too' look. "Really? Well, isn't that a coincidence? I think it's a lovely idea. Oh yes, Cynthia is a wonderful girl! She'd be a lovely daughter-in-law."
"Daughter-in-law?" I sat up and looked over at her absolutely appalled by the direction the conversation seemed to be headed.
"Hush, boy." My father leaned forward, keenly interested now. "Why would she want to marry...?"
"Hush, man! Her daughter is a lesbian." My mother glared at him her hand over the phone. I sat back shocked by the deal they were making and for a moment, I couldn't say anything. "Well, of course. No, no, I can't see a problem there. I'm sure infidelity doesn't matter in such a relationship."
"Infidelity?" I turned to my mother. "You want an adulterous daughter-in-law?"
"Only because my son isn't man enough to be interested in satisfying her." My mother snarled back at me, covering the phone.
"She's a lesbian any way. I would do as much for her as she did for me." I replied, crossing my legs, the way I was comfortable, knee over knee. My father spent most of my adolescence smacking my leg to get me to sit 'normally'.
My father was sitting quietly and staring at me, which was not very like him, when my mother hung up the phone and said. "We're meeting her next Tuesday to discuss the wedding and the courting. Won't that be lovely, dears."
I sighed, plotting how I would make the life of my fiancé a living hell just to test how much she could endure for reputation's sake. I was contemplating her response to me borrowing a few corsets and hats when my father suddenly spoke. "You're at least the...well, the one on top when you... aren't you?"
I had never. But from the directions of my fantasies, I wasn't. I glanced up at him and heaved another huge sigh, which hopefully answered his question adequately and shifted to look outside staring at the darkness and willing it to swallow me whole.
Again, needless to say, Cynthia was not quite pleased with me. She had obviously been crying on the way to our house, which made me feel quite sorry for the girl. But there she sat, demure and quiet; she didn't even attempt a smile. I had set out to make a good impression and think positively of the situation but I stopped when the poor girl broke down into tears and I got the gist of her innate hatred for me.
Cynthia's show of tragedy and drama was eventually too much for her mother to handle. "Cynthia! I swear this is the last resort, if you don't marry this perfectly respectable gentlemen, I'll send you to a convent in Switzerland."
I suspect it was my next comment that inspired Cynthia's trust in me, for I couldn't help but to chuckle. "Oh yes! I'm sure she'll find some lovely mannish women there. Bring those hills to life with the sound of music, eh Cynthia."
She smiled faintly and my mother turned my name into one syllable. "Elliot! Be sensitive!"
I chuckled at her. "My dear mother, I thought you wanted me to act like man today?"
"Oh honestly." She retorted. "Why must children be so recalcitrant? We're only trying to do what's best for you."
Having reached my breaking point hours ago, I could only chuckle. "Of course you are, Mother. You're just not taking any feelings that aren't your own into account."
"Elliot, what's come over you?" My mother demanded.
"I apologize, mother. I'm being insensitive again, aren't I?" I stood, a-tremble with anger, nervousness, but reflecting a strange calm and self-possession. "I shall excuse myself from this lovely little insult to civilization then. Must study you know."
I turned to our guests. "Been a pleasure, Madame. And Cynthia, my poor friend, I understand completely."
"I'm glad you're not offended." She sniffled. "The bitch gave me a hormone pill on the way to make me less angry."
"Ah." I nodded. "Well, simply as a gesture of friendship and reconciliation to both our beloved bitches, I would be most delighted to met you for dinner some night...preferably with out the hormones. We can exchange counselling cards. They do give you salacious pictures of attractive men?"
She nodded into her napkin as our mother's gasped and I smiled at her. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
She gave a sobbing laugh then wiped her eyes and sniffed at me again as I left. She smirked to her mother, showing a uniquely attractive spark. "I suppose queers are not as obnoxious as straight men."
"Oh honestly, Cynthia!" Her mother crossed her arms. My own was crying into her tea.