The Bogey Man Is Gonna Getcha

I remember being very torn when I learned Mom was leaving. Torn between "Holy crap! What is going to happen to me?" and "Well, Jesus H. Christ! Something has to change or we're all doomed."

And speaking of doom, I'd had a Doomsday revelation then, too. At the ripe old age of Almost 14, when Life seems to want to dish out all kinds booby prizes across the board. Acne. Braces. One's oh-so-fun-and fickle period. Boobs that grow or decide not to. What you get in your prepubescent gift basket is a complete crap shoot. And your parents' marriage unraveling is a big bow made of razor wire tied cheerfully to the handle.

But my A-ha moment came just then, when Mom told me she'd be leaving. For years I'd had an overpowering sense of impending doom. Something awful was just around the corner. Something wicked this way comes. It's the end of the world as we know it. Bye-bye, Love. Bye-bye, Happiness. Someone, something somewhere was going to take a hatchet to my life and hack it all to collops. The Big Whammy was afoot.

But I had no idea what it could be. What to expect. It was as if I were walking around in the pitch blackness, hands protectively out in front of me, feeling my way through a tunnel knowing that at any minute I could bump smack into the Bogey Man. He was somewhere out there. Coming toward me. God knows where. 

In my 11, 12, and 13 year old capacities to understand, I could not imagine what could be so horrible. I just knew it was coming. I conjured up the worst possible scenarios. I imagined awakening to find both of my parents dead in their bed. Both parents getting cancer from all of that incessant chain smoking. I imagined a horrible car accident in the Ford Towne and Country wood-paneled station wagon. My family dismembered and dead on the highway. Me still siting in the middle spot in the back seat with my Keds resting on the hump. 

And now, as I sat at the kitchen table, Mom chain smoking and drinking coffee, me downing Tang and an effortlessly prepared package of Tastykakes, it all made sense. 

This was the doom I could not define. This was the thing I sensed had been coming but could not imagine. This was the thing that rattled my cage but that I could not put into words.

Mom delivered her news matter of factly. Dispassionate. While I wordlessly ate my Butterscotch Krimpets, a lump forming in my throat making it hard to swallow, even with a sip of Tang. 

I knew there was no room for tears. Nothing messy, please, you have a bus to catch. 

I secretly dreamt of smacking the coffee cup out of her hand as she sat there casually sipping. Nice timing, Ma. Lower the boom and put me on the bus. And I got angry. This was her thoughtful plan to tell me she was leaving? That she was turning the world on its head?

And I was mad. Seething. And I said something pissy.

"Well it's about time." 

I stuffed the remaining bite of Krimpet in my mouth, grabbed my yellow zip-up hoodie and my book bag and walked out the door without looking back. 

I doubt she ever got up from her chair.