What is so odd about Mom’s change of heart is that she asks Charlotte if it would be okay to come to my house at Christmas.
Who needs the Big Girl Panties now?
So far as Mom knows, I know nothing of her lunatic rantings about the horrible person I’ve always been to all manner of audiences. I am sure Joe didn’t call her and sarcastically thank her for dragging him into it and thereby leaving him without a resume writing source.
Our last genuine interaction was weeks ago. She left a message and then I wrote a letter. My letter clearly stated that she was welcome at my house. As far as she would know, nothing has changed, except if she is genuinely giving some thought to the fact that she may have really dug her own grave this time.
A girl can hope.
Maybe things will all turn out just ducky?
What if they turn out too ducky?
What if I tell Charlotte to tell Mom (this is really so stupid…) that of course she is welcome at Christmas. Duh, Mom and Bill have always been welcome.
And what if she comes and has a great time and enjoys everyone’s company and manages to keep her trap shut on the subject of politics and between the wine and the song feels so warm and fuzzy that she offers to uphold the original plan and spend Christmas Eve and Christmas morning holding my hand while I boo hoo hoo through the holiday?
I HAVE A DATE!
So if Mom has her Grinch/Whoville transformation and makes the suggestion, what do I do?
Tell her thanks but no thanks? I am sure that will put her feet right back on the Road to Perdition and begin a bench-clearing brawl the neighbors will talk about for years to come.
But I don’t want to cancel Scott. It’s his Christmas, too.
This is my fork in the road.
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