Let Your Fingers Do The Talking

Mom goes on for some time meeting and greeting, completely unconcerned that she looks like a craniofacial reconstructive osteopathy patient.  I am practically breathing into a paper bag.  At last we leave for lunch. 

Upon arriving at the Pub of choice, I excuse myself and head to the loo.  (Skip to the loo, my darlin'? No?) Squirreled away in the stall, I text my friend. The one with all the advice about wine and deep breathing.  In a series of short texts, I tell her the story. Mostly because she was worried for me and I promised I'd send up a flare.

"Ok. Here is the deal." Send.

"Mom is being cordial." Send.

"Almost subdued. NOT her nature." Send.

"Probably because she stopped at her brother's on her way to my sister's." Send.

"Got plastered." Send.

"Fell walking up the front steps." Send.

"Broke her glasses." Send.

"Her dentures." Send.

"Has two black eyes." Send.

"And I am texting from the toily which the only place I can be alone enough to send a text." Send.

And she texts back.

"O" Send.

"M" Send.

"G" Send.

Exactly.

Lunch is as festive as one would expect and we all enjoy a few laughs. Soon, all too soon, we are heading for Charlotte's house and the awkward goodbye to Estelle. I manage to escape without injury and head for home to see the kids and finish resolving the stupid problem I'd created for myself at work.

Not long after my last task was wrapped for the night, I get a text. Thinking it is Charlotte with another "Oh My God If She Doesn't Shut Up Right This Minute I Will Commit Hari Kari" cry for help, or Scott with a few X's and O's, I pick up the phone to read it at once.

It is not Charlotte. It is not Scott. It is not my intrigued colleague wondering where else the story led after I'd exited the bathroom.

It is my idiot brother Joe. 

"I am so glad family togetherness still exists since dad died!"

An idiot says what?

For a brief misguided moment, I actually try to figure out what his imbecilic ramblings are supposed to mean to me. I think maybe he's being sarcastic, but he's too stupid to realize that sarcasm doesn't really read well in a text, and since there is no familiarity, I wouldn't pick up on it anyway.

Is he thinking he's clever having figured out that I was at Gray's graduation and he wasn't?  That anyone gave a rat's ass if he knew or was insulted to begin with?  Or is he just offended to not have been invited? 

And then I stop myself before wasting another crumb of gray matter more. 

Who cares what he is trying to say, however lamely?  And who cares if he's offended? 

I copy the text message and send it to Charlotte.

"This is the text I just got from Our Idiot Brother."

And she writes back.

"Me, too."

There is a method to his madness. He knows Mom is here. He's trying to stir the pot while the keeper of the cauldron is lurking nearby ready to throw us both in.