The Shot Heard Round the Globe

I fill Scott in on more details, inclusive of the horror about the tattoo. Thankfully, he finds that to be a riot.  The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about. And besides, if there is a buzz about it at the funeral luncheon, that will just send Endorra sailing over the edge. So be it.

The kids and I wake early on Saturday and get on the road to Scott's.  First, we sign, seal and post a card to Sandy and the girls.  I've told the kids. They are sorry for the girls, pity J., but are otherwise nonplussed. Well, maybe a little self righteous about being right about J. slowly killing himself with his many secret vices.

After a day on the beach and boardwalk, we come home.  Pat and Scott try out Pat's new Airsoft rifle Scott got him for his birthday and then test out some of Scott's old BB guns.  Tin cans are flying all over the yard when my phone rings. I see that it is Sandy and while I wonder if I should answer it, it goes to voicemail. I immediately retrieve the message in private.

She sounds all business. Like she's mad at something. She'd like me to call her back. I have no idea why. Beads of sweat are forming on my forehead as I tell Scott. He tells me to go into the bedroom and shut the door so I can give the call my full attention. Sounds like it needs it.

I call Sandy back and make a friendly excuse when she immediately answers with "Hello, Liza."  I tell her I was just walking in the door and missed her call and ask what is happening.

She starts with "Oh my. Where to start. I can't begin to tell you the craziness..."

I interrupt. "Oh, Sandy. I know exactly what you are talking about. That family is like a circus without a tent under the best of circumstances. It must be full on chaos with Endorra and Sheila at the wheel."

"Oh so you know!" She is obviously gushing with relief to not have to explain J.'s family dysfunction to me.  As if she wondered if I'd only realized he was insane and not the whole lot of them as well. 

Her voice sounds almost joyful. I am wondering why that comes as such a relief to her right now. And then she tells me.

"Liza, my girls adore  you, and you have been so wonderful to them. And if you were planning on paying your respects to them in any way, please, please don't make it Tuesday at the service."

It is fairly simple to read between the lines. "Sandy, I have no illusions about whether or not I am welcome at J."s funeral. I have never had any intention of attending.  I don't need to be there to show your girls how I feel. I can do that any time you see fit. I am sure they understand that."

"They do," she says. "And they were worried that you'd extend yourself for them and walk right into Hell itself. I am so glad you had more sense than that."

I tell her that I am well aware of the toxic tumultuous nature of the family. I'd seen it from the vantage point of the eye of the storm.Endorra and Sheila will act like a pair of petulant, lunatic children. They will make a scene and carry on, and no one who is there to truly greive needs that. And the last thing your girls need is a lot of drama as they are trying to close this chapter in their lives and heal."

She sighs and laughs at the same time. "Oh thank God you get it!  Liza, my girls have spent the last two days with those people and it has been nothing but hell for them. They have laid down rules and expectations and made this such an ordeal. There isn't a sane one in the bunch.  Tuesday is going to be Hell on Earth."

"Endorra has made it very clear to the girls that you are not welcome and she will have you escorted from the service." Isn't that rich? She'd make a member of my family, in his official capacity, approach me and escort me from the church.

In my heart I know that she would say those words. In my heart I also wonder if she'd do it. A rational person would not make a scene unless provoked. But Endorra, since she would not have to do the deed herself, would relish in watching some dark suited family member of mine walk sheepishly over to me and very firmly tell me that I need to leave at once.

As if I'd give that fruit loop the satisfaction of getting to do that. Please. I can thumb my nose at her from the beach.  Kiss my shapely derriere you bitter old hag! 

"Sandy," I say. "I would prefer that she come to the realization that I am blissfully indifferent to J. and to her and her drama. I can't be bothered to take the day off. Wouldn't give her the chance to lash out. And yet I know in my heart that when I don't make an appearance, she will think I'm evil for not having paid my respects."

"Oh, Liza, you have no idea. There is so much more to tell you."

I go into Scott's bathroom and close the door. I hop up on the counter, fold my legs up Indian style and speak directly into the phone.

"Talk to me."