It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

Yes, She thought, thinking back, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

It was not a dark and stormy night when She made the decision to return to the land of Her birth (okay, suburb of Her birth if you wanna get all technical about it, but it sounds stoopid) to visit her father for his 70th birthday. That decision was a God one. Yes, exactly right, God one.

What She was not sure about was, would She, should She tell her mother?...and so very quickly now because Papaji has finished his espresso and is tapping his feet waiting for her to finish with denternet. As in: How long you need denternet? I can just wait, why for I go some place else, I just drink my espresso and wait here.

It is called an espresso because you can drink it super fast and then tap, tap, tap: You finish?

She would like to tell you as well - "ees some bigga problema with this espresso-sports bar internet because no makea de punchooation, and also, She only gal here looky very loosy-goosy gal, no good for repewtation. Sorry for the no good punchooation everyabody."

Today, five minutes after She said "MAYBE WE SHOULD TELL YOUR BANK MANAGER NOT TO MENTION SEEING ME BECAUSE MOM DOES NOT KNOW I AM HERE" - they fatefully run into said Mom, with her faithful sidekick, Guiseppina, who She has come to refer to as that bullshitting-backstabbing-false-goody-goody, because Guiseppina tried to explain to Her last year how "Her mother truly loved Her and Her mother got sick with a psychotic illness because she (Mamma-She, not me-She) was soooo worried about this daughter after She left home."

This was when She (the daughter) replied: "Did she (the busybody) think she (the mother) was worried because she (again, the mother) thought someone else would kill me, did she (Ms. Idjit Busybody) think? Especially when she (the mother, in the library with the candlestick. Aha, that's the most important clue to solving this mind-puzzle) kept threatening to do that throughout my entire childhood and adolescence.

I am not proud of yelling at children in India, nor am I proud that I yelled at a septuagenarian and told her she was a no-good-busy-body-idiot, implying by my tone she could go F herself while jumping off a cliff, she understood absolutely nothing about me, my life, my mom the psychotic illness that had robbed me from having a mother.

That was last years visit. This is now. This time, I ignored them both and walked on, saying to my dad "KEEP WALKING, DAD, KEEP WALKING" - because I had not actually seen my mother. Only the busy-body, who clearly ignored my advice. When I realised my mom was in her car, in the passenger seat, I nearly threw up.

I gotta go, my dad has practically started the engine on the car, and I have tied up the phone line here. Old school, totally old school.