Chapter 33

Mama had another one of her depressions right after I left to go back to school. It was immediately after my one week school break for Thanksgiving. When I got home that Friday evening, after having signed myself out, and driving home alone, Gerta told me it looked like this was going to be one of the really bad ones for Mama.

My dad had been staying up in Bolling, at our apartment there, supposedly because there was so much happening with the business, that he needed to save the one hour daily transit time for going to and coming from work. The reality, of course, was that he and Mama were in the middle of yet another one of their fights.

Shirley and her parents had driven over to Kansas City for the weekend. Mrs. Jones liked to paint porcelain plates, and there was some big craft show there, over that weekend, one she really wanted to attend. Mr. Jones and Shirley went along because there was a Chiefs game on Sunday, and Mr. Jones and Shirley were both rabid football fans. Jerry had been scheduled to come home with me for the weekend, but I explained about my mother not feeling well. After I promised to bring him back some of Gerta's baked goods, Jerry stopped most of his sulking. Both times previously that I'd brought him home with me, he'd spent most of his time in the kitchen, trying to talk Gerta out of extra snacks, and trying to get Hans to go into town to buy him some new men's magazines. Hans finally went into his own apartment, and brought Jerry about a dozen old Playboys that he had stored there.

I went up to see Mama, right after I got home, and we spent two hours together. She was weeping, but she was still able to communicate with me when I asked her direct questions. This was a very different presentation of her depression that I was seeing from Mama. Later, Gerta told me that she thought these kind of depressions were the worst kind, because they always lasted for the longest time. When I questioned Gerta about it, I found out that she equated bad depression with the length of time that Mama spent not eating. To me, Mama just seemed very sad this time, thinking negative thoughts about her life, and, especially, about her past. After eating with Hans and Gerta, I went back up to spend some more time with Mama.

By communicate, I didn't mean that Mama and I talked together. I spoke, and she would sometimes nod or shake her head, but it was communication. Mama wouldn't eat or drink, and, when I asked her if she had slept, she shook her head that she hadn't. I had been up there with her for more than an hour, when I just decided to phone my Dad over at the apartment in Bolling. He and I spoke for about twenty five minutes. I kept asking him about how things were going at work, and he would answer my questions. Mostly though he seemed preoccupied with the vending machine production increase, and with how the restaurant supply project was coming along.

Mama didn't change position much while I was on the phone with Dad. I held her hand in mine while I talked with him. I noticed one change in her, and that was that she made her weeping noise a little bit less loud. It was almost like she wanted to be quieter, so she could hear what Dad was saying to me. It must have been difficult, trying to hear through the receiver I was holding tightly to my ear. After I hung up, I talked to her about what Dad had said, and about how much work he was doing.

"I'm worried about Dad. At least, when he was home, we could make sure he stopped working long enough to get something to eat, and for him to get himself some rest before heading back to the office. I don't think he takes care of himself when he stays by himself up at the apartment. I think I'm going to drive over there tomorrow to see him, maybe get him to stop working long enough to take me to lunch or something. I think I'll go over to see Jane and Grace too, make sure they are both okay. I haven't seen the girls since Thanksgiving, and Jane was supposed to call me about this new driver she heard about. It's supposed to have a real advantage as far as driving distance. Jane said she heard it's about twenty yards more distance. I'd like to find out more about it."

Mama's face lifted up to look at mine, when I mentioned another twenty yards of driving distance. To a golfer, more distance off the tee, translated into lower scoring. There were always rumors making the rounds, about some new driver that was supposed to be either easier to hit and control, or else one that gave a lot more distance with the same swing you'd use with your regular driver. It usually proved not to be true, but that didn't stop new rumors from surfacing all the time.

I kissed Mama goodnight, and then let myself out of her room. When I got up in the morning, I went into her room to check on her and she was asleep. I went down to the kitchen and asked Gerta about that.

"Mama's asleep, does that mean she'd over being depressed?"

"Are you sure she's asleep? It's still too soon for her to be over this kind of a depression. Was she still crying when you saw her?"

"No. She was asleep. She was on her back, and she was snoring a little bit. When I was in with her last night, after dinner, I spent some time talking to Dad on the phone. I noticed then that she lowered the noise from her weeping. I think she was trying to hear what he was telling me."

"Well, if she is sleeping, I think that's a very good sign. She's usually hungry after she wakes up."

"Let her sleep as long as she wants to. I'm going over to Bolling to visit Jane and Grace, and to try to see if I can get Dad to take us out for lunch. I'll be back home later this afternoon."

The drive over to Bolling was easy. I was starting to feel more confident about driving places by myself. I got to the girls apartment just before nine thirty. They were surprised to see me, and they both looked like they had just woken up. Jane was still wearing her flannel nightgown. You couldn't see anything underneath it, but her big boobs were jiggling all around when she would make any movement at all. She and Grace liked to tease me about how I stared at Jane's chest, but anyone would have stared. It wasn't just me.

Over the past few months, the girls and I had sort of evolved into a kid brother, older sisters, kind of relationship. That didn't prevent them from teasing me though, and part of that teasing usually involved them trying to excite me enough to give me a hard on. It wasn't that hard for them to do, but they treated it like it was a major accomplishment. This time, Grace was telling me about how she was just getting ready to shave Jane's pussy when I knocked on their door. I know I was blushing when she first mentioned that, but when she asked me if I wanted to help her with it, I nearly panicked, wondering how I could ever explain doing something like that to Shirley. I wasn't planning on doing it, but I had a clear mental image of what it might look like. After they were finished laughing at me, about my panicked reaction, Jane gave me the name of the company that made the new driver she'd been talking to me about over Thanksgiving dinner.

I went over to my Dad's apartment as soon as I left the girls place. He was real surprised to see me, but he looked pleased too, like he was happy I'd taken the time to make a special effort to be with him. I had to work pretty hard to get him to agree to take me out to lunch though. He was working hard on preparing an application for the operating line of credit he was trying to set up for the company. Every new expansion we embarked on at the company would change all the numbers around. Each of these changes increased the amount that Dad thought we needed to fully exploit the opportunity the change presented to us. The more we expanded, the greater the opportunity. Dad always saw a lot of opportunities, and he always thought he might need more money in order to get the best performance out of them. His current proposal was for a six hundred million operating line. Since current value of our assets weren't that high, Dad was going to get Mama and Uncle Bunny to guarantee the first two hundred million. I wanted to see Mama's reaction when he presented this proposal to her for the first time.

We went over to the deli owned by Hans and Gerta's German friends, the Kleinsmith's, and each had a wonderful sandwich and a great pudding type dessert.

"How much longer are you going to stay mad at Mama?" I had waited until both of us were through with our sandwiches before starting to talk to him about his fight with Mama.

"I'm not mad at her, we just need a break from each other from time to time. This is just one of those times when we needed one."

"You two make a wound, and then think all you have to do is let a scab grow over it. You never get around to solving the real problems."

"We don't have any real problems to solve. We come from different places, and we look at things differently, because of that. That isn't a problem, that's a difference."

"Mama celebrates this difference by crying in her bedroom, and you celebrate it by burying yourself in your work. That sounds like a problem to me."

"You might choose to look at it that way, Kenny, but we've always managed fine, by doing it our way. I've told you before that your mother and I have a stronger marriage than almost all of our friends and business associates. We don't necessarily have to agree on everything, not as long as we agree on most of the really important things."

"It all comes back to the same problem with Mama. She doesn't think you love her."

"Kenny, we've had this conversation before. I already know your take on this. I don't happen to share your views. We like and respect each other, and we've built a strong union based on that foundation."

"You've built a strong union, and that's enough for you. All Mama's done is tried her best to settle for what you're willing to give her. When she gets too unhappy, she makes sure you aren't happy either."

"I am happy. There's absolutely nothing I'd change about our life together. We might not always appreciate all that we have together, but that doesn't change the fact that we have it. I can appreciate that, even if your mother cannot."

"So, you get about half of her, and she gets the same percentage of you? That's enough? You're really happy with it being like that?"

"I don't subscribe to that accounting, Kenny. It is far more than half. You believe in romantic love, in attaching emotional significance to everything. I'm more of a pragmatist. I have no need or desire to pretend that marriage is more than a partnership. In our partnership, we've both prospered and carved out a good life for ourselves."

"Okay, you've both had good lives. A few times you've suggested having Mama put away in an institution, because she likes to spend a few days a month hiding in her closet, but, I guess this is just part of that good life you and her have carved out?"

"Your mother suffered from depression long before I even met her. I've been assured it is an illness, a mental problem, one that she will always need to suffer through."

"I've heard that too, but I've also seen that people can affect the way she suffers through it. You, me, and Uncle Bunny, we can say or do things to help her when she gets depressed. She responds to us. She wants not to be sick, when we show her we care about her."

"I've seen almost no evidence of that being the case. I've spoken to her when she was despondent, but she simply ignored me."

"What did you tell her? Stop this, Bertie, we're going to be late? Snap out of it, now, you're an embarrassment?"

"Whatever I told her, it didn't have any effect. That's the important fact to remember. I've thought about what you said about my actions not being consistent with my stated position about not loving Bertie. I admit I'm very fond of her, perhaps even too fond, more fond than is wise for me. I've told her as much, often, in the recent past, in fact. That should be enough. It is certainly enough for me."

"Does she say she's fond of you too?"

"She's much more of an emotional person than I, Kenny. The word love doesn't mean the same to her as it does to me. She claims to love twenty people. She loves Hans and Gerta."

"I love them both too, and they love Mama and me, and Uncle Bunny. I was like you say you are, a year and a half ago, I didn't love anybody. You aren't like I was. I know you love both me and Uncle Bunny, but you love Mama more than the two of us put together. It doesn't bother me that you don't admit it to me or to Uncle Bunny, but not telling Mama that you do, that's just mean."

"How many people have you told that you love them, Kenny? I bet it's a lot. To you, it's just a word. Some of us have too much integrity to throw words around so loosely."

"Integrity is just a word too. Some people hide behind words. I've told seven people I love them, you, Mama, Uncle Bunny, Hans, Gerta, Brenda and Shirley. I'm sorry there haven't been more I wanted to tell it to. Is that too many?"

"I think each person sets their own standards. Perhaps it's simply a question of differing definitions. What you would call love might simply be something I'd call fondness. Nothing wrong with that, the two of us having different definitions for emotional words."

"I don't think you understand, but I don't want to get involved in some debate over semantics. You love Mama, and I'm not the only one who thinks so. Uncle Bunny knows you very well, and he thinks you love her too. The problem is, it doesn't matter what we think, it only matters what you think, and what you're willing to say to Mama. Before you say it to her, you need to really feel it, and understand it for what it is. No one can help you with it, so you need to find out how by yourself."