Fractured Fairy Tales

Understand that Sandy needed little motivation to rape and pillage. The slightest discrepancy with her version of perfect world order and complete domination would often lead to nuclear meltdowns. J. recalled one particularly explosive, full-throttle hissy fit inspired by his return from grocery shopping and the discovery that he'd purchased the wrong size box of Cheerios and the 50 cent off coupon had not applied (much less doubled! Gasp!)

***Note - Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth. (And hello a little help here...why do we say that?) I would have gladly paid full price for all 8 bags and a delivery fee for someone to have voluntarily taken on the grocery shopping for me - and in fact, might have had a lovely filet mignon and glass of Merlot waiting at the end of the trip.

But whatever drove Sandy to this madness, however admittedly short the trip, her sycophant family (ahem, AKA "support system") was seated at her (considerable) feet, "There, there Sandy"-ing and "We're all here to help" -ing her until her hormonally imbalanced rage could subside to normal human levels.

And now J. needed his "support system." But what Sandy had done was so reprehensible J. was hesitant to talk to anyone about it. It's hard to admit that you were once married to someone capable of such hatred. Sometimes even your friends don't completely understand. And who wants to make that call? "Hi there! It's J. Sandy's at it again and this time she's publicly humiliated me and discredited me! Wanna grab a beer after work and catch up?"

He'd called his mother, and she was appropriately horrified but still a little distant.

He needed me for sure. And although I have great faith in my abilities, in this case, he needed more than me.

So I took a deep breath.
I picked up my phone.
I called his mother.

The call went immediately to voicemail, natch. But it was not Endora's voice on the message as I'd been accustomed to hearing. And it was not the Squatters squealing in their newly wedded euphoria either.

I was a little out of practice at calling this house since the screaming match, so I hung up without leaving a message and checked the number.

I had in fact dialed properly.

Uh-oh. Damn that caller ID.

I took another deep, cleansing breath and dialed again.

She answered. Coolly.

I steadily greeted Endora and identified myself (omitting the last name). I remarked that I'd intended to have J. and the girls for dinner the next day to celebrate our birthdays, and in light of what's happened, I was sure he'd love to see her. He needed his family around him. Would she like to join us?

She replied, still coolly, that she had a party to attend but would try to come. What time?

I told her I was not clear on the details yet, but would call her again the next day with the time.

We got off the phone without any fanfare or drama...and then I properly exhaled, for the first time in months.