Chapter 28: Moms and Sons (1)

On the way to the city center, my mind was still reeling, especially from the last few hours and I almost got into an accident in the busy traffic. Luckily, the traffic was moving at a crawling pace, and the worse that could have happened was a fender-bender. Still, it was enough to take my mind off the morning, and concentrate on the road. To tell the truth, I hated the traffic around the city center, especially the taxis, which seemed to increase in number every passing day, and the way they weaved in and out in the traffic, changing lanes, and cutting in without a signal or any warning. The city where Dana lived was worse. In the last few years, I had been there a few times, visiting relatives, spending a few days. After the first day, I was so fed up with the traffic I left my car at one of the auto parks and used the taxis or public transport wherever I went.

Luckily, Dana was living close to the airport, in a part of the city quite a ways from the city center, in a suburban neighborhood where new apartment complexes were being built. The ring around the city led almost all the way to her neighborhood; well, except for the bridge that connected the two halves of the city. Unfortunately that bridge was very busy most hours of the day and night, and consequently a major bottleneck. I was hoping I wouldn't have too much trouble if and when I visited her, especially if I could avoid the rush hours. In fact I was looking forward to seeing her place, and perhaps spend time with her, but I missed the sea too much, and I was anxious to visit my beach to see if it was still there for me... still an anchor in my life.

After wasting more than an hour in traffic, I managed to find an empty spot in a car park, and walked to the nearby shopping center. The next several hours, I moved from book shop to book shop, browsing and making my selections. After I was satisfied with what I had, I did some window shopping, checking electronics stores, and on a whim checked out a newly opened music store. I ended up buying a few CDs. Some were my usual choices such as Queen, Chris Rea, Guns 'n Roses, but there was one new addition; Vladimir Vysotsky, a Russian bard. I had heard a few of his songs in a movie, and was captured by his singing style, even though I didn't understand a word. It was the way he sang that left an impression on me; the harsh, guttural Russian flowing out in an almost agitating style. Of course, it also had something to do with watching Mikhail Baryshnikov dance to one of his songs. When I had first heard him, I managed to find translations of his songs, and as I expected, they turned out to be political, even though the symbolisms were very subtle. That explained why he was considered an outcast by the powers that be, and a dissident in his home country.

Finished with my shopping I stopped at a cafe, and had a light brunch, since I skipped breakfast in the morning, and then drove to my parents, to put in an appearance.

Mom was pleasantly surprised to see me. Dad was busy reading a book in the master bedroom. They had already had their lunch, but Mom asked if I wanted a bite. I wasn't hungry since I had already eaten, but Mom's cooking had always been something I could hardly refuse, even on a full stomach. So, I settled for a small plate of chicken salad-Georgian style-one of my favorites. After cleaning out my plate, I washed the plate and the cutlery, while Mom watched with amusement. Seeing her expression, I asked what was on her mind. I wasn't prepared for her answer.

"I'm glad you can take care of yourself, but sometimes, I regret I taught you about cooking, cleaning, and other things."

"Why is that, Ma?"

"It made your life easy as a bachelor, perhaps too easy. I'm afraid you'll have trouble with women. You might end up being too picky, and critical of their abilities when it comes to cooking or managing a home."

"So, you'd rather see me unable to fend for myself," I replied. It was a cheap shot, but I just couldn't keep from responding.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Son. And don't you get wise with me!" she admonished.

Flashing her eyes at me momentarily, she softened her expression, and smiled. Still, it was enough to make me feel like a little kid. Trying to regain my composure, I reached for my pack. Smoking doesn't make anybody look adult, but it was an almost instinctive response to the way I felt.

"And you should quit that habit. It's not good," she said.

"Really? Why do you smoke so much?" I retorted, trying to even up the situation, as she kept the pressure on me.

"Because of you, Mitch," she came back, trying to make me feel guilty.

"That's not going to work, Ma."

"I know," she said, with a sigh, before adding a cryptic, "Maybe something else would help you quit smoking."

"Like what?"

"Like a good woman."

Ohh, shit...

I shrugged, instead of giving an answer, and lit my cigarette.

"Light me one, too, Mitch."

As I passed her the cigarette, she asked about the party. "How was Sarah, and the party?"

"She was OK, and the party was good... was very good. I even got to meet Kathy's boy friend," I replied, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"She was OK? Just OK?" she retorted, raising an eyebrow in a mocking fashion.

"All right! She was more than OK. Happy?" I returned with a smile, giving up the pretense.

With a soft laugh, she said, "You have to admit, she's changed."

I shrugged, but Mom wasn't going to let it go so easily. "So, did you talk?"

"Yes, we did. She kept me company, and I was grateful for that."

"Grateful?"

"You know how I feel about some of the girls. I don't like their brazen ways. Sarah's presence helped keep them away."

"I see..."

"And the party was good. She gave a great recital. Her voice hasn't changed, it's still excellent."

"So you had a good time?"

"Yes."

"I'm surprised," she said in an enigmatic tone.

"Huh! Surprised with what? That I enjoyed the party?"

"I was hoping you would. Nothing else happened?" she asked in the same tone.

"Huh! What do you mean?"

I was suddenly anxious at what she was getting at.

"She didn't flirt with you?" she asked after a long pause.

"No, not really. She was friendly. We've known each other for a long time," I replied as casually as possible.

She was watching me carefully, and that made me uneasy. I went over our exchange trying to figure out if I had given something away. I realized I had made a minor mistake. I haven't responded to her with a question, such as why she thought Sarah would flirt with me. Collecting myself, I remedied the oversight.

"Why? Did you expect her to flirt with me?" I asked, as if surprised at the notion.

"As you said, you've known each other for a long time, and Sarah's changed from the shy, self-conscious girl to a confidant woman," Mom replied pointedly.

"I guess, I'm still Mitchell, Kathy's brother," I replied with a wry grin.

She had a cryptic expression on her face, but after a momentary pause, she changed the subject. "You said you met Kathy's boyfriend?"

"Yep."

"What do you think?" she asked in a conspiratorial tone.

"I think he's all right," I replied with a serious tone, keeping a poker face.

"All right? What kind of an answer is that?"

"Haven't you met him? You must have your own impression," I said, feeling a bit anxious, and also trying to protect Kathy's interests.

"Yes, I did. I'm curious what you make of him."

"Is this some kind of a test?" I asked.

"It's not a test, Mitch. I'm just curious," she insisted. I could see she really wanted to hear my opinion.

"I think he's good for Kathy. From what little I've seen he's a good guy."

"Yes, he is. Kathy's a lucky girl," Mom said. With a mischievous smile, she asked, "So, you did see how Kathy is when she's with him?"

I tried to give her a blank look, but she didn't buy it, not at all.

"You need to practice more before attempting something like that, Son," she admonished me, making me laugh.

"I've seen them. It's obvious both of them love each other very much. What about you? What do you think?"

"I like him. He's respectful, and he's shown that he loves and cares for Kathy. I couldn't ask for more for Kathy's sake."

"So you approve?"

"Kind of," she replied with an enigmatic tone. I didn't hear any disapproval, so I didn't know what to make of her reply.

"What do you mean?"

"Marriage is not only love, and sex. It's managing a home, taking care of your partner, having kids and raising them, while keeping the love alive, but especially the friendship. It takes a lot of energy and effort, from both sides."

"So?"

"So? So, your sister has a busy schedule, and she's set her eyes on making a career for herself; same as Mark. I'm not sure if they will have time for themselves, or kids or anything else," she replied, with a concerned tone.

"I think you're worrying about something you shouldn't. They will figure out things, decide on what they want, how they want it. How did it work out for you and Dad? Probably your parents had the same worries."

"Maybe you're right, but I want to see some grandchildren. And Kathy seems to be the only one who can give that," she replied. From her tone, she made it clear she had no hopes from me, and this was another subtle comment directed at my life.

"That's a bit egoistical, don't you think?" I returned fire.

"No different than you've been, is it not?" she came back.

"I'm not egoistical, Ma, and I'm not going to get into the old arguments. Can't we talk about something else?"

"Tell me, what did you really think of the new Sarah?" she opened up, probing again.

"Sarah is Sarah. She's a fine girl."

"You're stubborn as a mule, you know that? No one in the family had that trait. Not me, not your dad. I wonder whose kid you are."

"I have no way of knowing that. Did you adopt me?" I quipped, forgetting momentarily my manners and that I was talking to Mom.

"Watch your mouth, Mitch! I don't give a whit how old you are, but you're not old enough not to find yourself on my knees. After all these years, that would be a first. I've taught you better than that, and I'm still your mother." This time her eyes were flashing with real anger, and I knew I had gone too far.

"I apologize, Mom, but you opened the subject, and I demand a certain respect, as much as you do. I ain't no child," I came back, as serious as she had been, not willing to give an inch, parent or not. Even though I knew I had been disrespectful, I didn't like being treated like a child.

"Good God! Speak properly. It's 'I'm not a child.' I taught you better than that. Where did you learn to speak like that? Which school did you go to?" she responded with exasperation.

I was getting ready to give another snappy reply, especially about the schooling, but taking a deep breath, I tried to calm down, and remember my manners.

"I'm no child. Happy now?"

She noticed how I responded, choosing no deliberately, in place of not, but decided to let it go with a resigned sigh.

"You're still a child, Mitch. You'll always be. Do you understand that? I doubt you can. Not until you have your own children," she said softly.

When I didn't respond, she continued, singing the same tune, but this time she didn't pull her punches. "I just hope they will not give you the heart aches you've given me. I wouldn't wish that to my worst enemy."

"What!!" I exclaimed. Collecting myself, and with a calmer tone, I said, "I never gave you or Dad any heart aches, especially when I was young."

"You think so," she replied.

"Give me one example," I insisted. "Then I'll shut up."

"The school bullies," she replied.

Saying I was shocked was like saying 'sugar is sweet.' I was completely frozen, my mouth hanging open, and my cigarette dangling from my lower lip, still stuck, before it fell onto my lap. That galvanized me into a flurry of action; I jumped out of the chair, not to burn my jeans, and then picked it up from the floor, before it burned the linoleum. I sat back in my chair in a daze.

When I found my voice again, I asked, "How did you know about the school bullies?"

"That's a mother's privilege. Suffice it to say I know. I know what you did, too. After that they left you alone."

"That's not good enough. You always lecture me about how I don't talk. You're setting a very good example," I came back, my burning curiosity overcoming my initial hesitation; my need to know overrode all other concerns I might have, including my reluctance to talk about certain things.

"You know, I should have taught Kathy a lesson for her part in the conspiracy. But, I knew why she did it, and it would have given away what I knew. I still get angry every time I remember how you two... little shits... thought you could hide something like that from me."

"There was no conspiracy. I didn't even know Kathy knew about it. I learned it later. But, it's water under the bridge."

"Easy for you to say."

"You know it wasn't easy," I replied, reminding her of my own circumstances at the time.

"No, it hadn't been, but you were always too proud. You didn't help yourself much; you were too headstrong for your own good, too tough. You know, your dad didn't help either. He was the one who persuaded me to let it go, unless it got too bad. He knew something about boys, and bullies, and the unwritten rules that applied in the kids' world outside school. So, I had to sit and watch. Your sensei was another piece of work. That arrogant son-" she was saying before she caught herself.

I was taken aback by her vehemence at my sensei. Mom didn't use profanity, unless she was seriously upset, and even then she was careful and deliberate about her choice words.

"If you felt like that, how come you allowed me to train under him?"

She paused for a long moment to collect herself, before answering. "I'm sorry, Mitch. It's not really how I feel about him. I was just remembering our first encounter. He knew what was going on, and he repeatedly denied knowing anything about it, or the reason why he wanted to train you, driving me up the walls. But he was an honorable man. I know that now." She paused as if she had realized something. "Did he make a promise to you, not to talk about the bullies?"

When I nodded, she said, "That figures... I should have known," with a soft tone-almost of contrition.

I was puzzled by her comments about my sensei.

"Did something happen between you?" I asked.

She tentatively shook her in the negative, and didn't say anything for a while. From her reaction I understood she didn't want to talk about it. We sat in silence smoking our cigarettes, until she broke the silence.

"When I met him first... he evaded the subject of what was happening with you and the bullies. He told me that you were interested in learning martial arts, and he was interested in teaching you. He tried to explain the growth and understanding and the discipline that would come out of your studies, but I had difficulty understanding him. Your dad seemed to understand what he was talking about, and trusted him, but... I... I wasn't sure if it would be such a good idea. And, I needed to get to know him. He was a most difficult person, but he was also... I don't know..." she said, her voice trailing, as her eyes took on a distant light, lost in thought.

Collecting herself, she looked at me. "Initially I had to trust your dad's judgment on the subject. Eventually, I got to know him... better... as much as he allowed. I think he understood my concerns. We talked several times." Giving me soft look, she added, "As I said, he was an honorable man."

"I see..."

The whole thing came as a big surprise, and I hadn't noticed anything happening at the time, when Sensei brought me home to my parents and discussed my training. I expected some questions might be asked, but I didn't expect what she told me.

"Did you get involved in my training program or any other aspects of it?"

"No," she replied, then as an after thought, she added, "Not really."

"Not really," I repeated. "What's that supposed to mean, Ma?"

"As I said, we talked several times. Your sensei tried to explain the philosophy, rather than the physical aspects of martial arts. Our talks touched... many different subjects." With a smile, she added, "It was most interesting. And, he explained what he thought you would get from it. I think what convinced me was that he was a kind and gentle person, despite his reserved, almost arrogant attitude. Perhaps, that's got to do something with his being Japanese."

"Was that all?" I asked, not sure if her involvement would be that limited, because she had been overly protective of her kids.

"Mitch, I can't tell you some things," she replied. Seeing the quizzical look in my eyes, she added, "I made a promise to him. But, know that he decided on your training. After all, he knew what he was talking about, and he took on a great responsibility."

"I understand, Ma."

I was curious after that admission. I thought back to the past, and tried to remember everything I could, to identify if there had been any instances when she might have gotten involved. As I went over my childhood, the first thing that came to my mind was my visit to the dog center. It had shaped to some degree, my outlook, and training, and it tied to what happened with the bully I had beaten up, later. Now, in hindsight, I knew what my sensei did wasn't something proper for a young child of nine years old, even though it might have been necessary.

"Did you know anything about where he took me for a visit?"

She gave me a blank look, and was quiet for a while.

She didn't know anything about it. That's really strange!

"A promise is a promise," she said quietly.

So, she did know!

I wondered whose idea it had been, and what else she had discussed with my sensei. I knew I wouldn't get any answers, so I let it go, but I wanted to know how she felt about my training, especially after her remarks about giving her a heartache.

"Ma, how do you feel about the whole thing? My studies and training?"

"I'm glad you met him. I mean it. He taught you a lot, and helped you. But sometimes, I wonder what good came out of it though."

"Why do you say that?"

"You didn't have much of a normal life as a teenager. And you were very picky when it came to making friends, real friends. And girls; there weren't any."

"And you think that was because I spent too much time with my sensei? Or because of what I learned?"

"Wasn't it? You became more independent, more picky," she countered.

"I don't think so. I was already picky, when I was young, when it came to other kids. That never changed. Girls... I was always too shy for them. Even with Kathy's friends."

"Like Sarah?"

I nodded.

"Figures. Like father like son. If I hadn't chased after your dad, he would still be sitting by himself," she said, her lips curling with a small smile.

"Was he really like that?"

"Not exactly. He was shy around the girls he was really interested in. I knew he had dated several girls, but they were flings. I figured out what he was like, and went after him."

"Then I guess, I'm not like my father."

She smiled. "You are different. Childhood plays a large role, and yours had been a difficult one. I'm not talking about the bullies, only."

"I understand."

"Maybe. You'll understand better when you have your own kids, Mitch."

"I'll take your word for it."

"You do that. Now, can you answer something for me?"

"If I can, I will."