Chapter 3 Calvin #2
Yeah, I’m a grown-ass adult. Yeah, I could not answer it.
But I’m weak around her. It’s like all my control and self-growth go out the window when I have to deal with her.
She’s also the only family I have. Well, she has a sister, parents, and some cousins, but I don’t know any of them.
Mom always kept me close to her side. My father left her when I was two, and I never saw him again, not that I remember him.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she drove him out of our lives.
Her motto has always been, ‘You and me against the world.’ It sounds like a great bonding moment. It was anything but.
No, Mom, it’s always been about you.
The sad part is that people like being around her. She’s charismatic, outgoing, and sweet around other people. But living alone with her, when no one was looking… Let’s just say I had no one to turn to.
The ringing stops, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, but the reprieve doesn’t last long when my phone starts ringing again.
I curse my life and answer it.
“Where were you? You made me call you again.”
“Hey, Mom. Yeah, I was… cooking dinner.”
“You’re avoiding me. I know your patterns. You never call me. I have to call you all the time. We’re family, Calvin. What will happen when I’m dead, and you have no one left?”
Live happily?
Despite my misery, I’ve spent my life bending over backwards to make my mother proud.
I played football in high school, like the good Texas boy I was.
I got good grades and went to fucking Rice University for undergrad and to get my Mastery of Architecture.
Do you have any idea how hard it was to get into that school?
Instead of her telling me what a great job I did, I’d get ‘Well, you weren’t the quarterback.’ ‘You should’ve tried to get into Harvard.’ And, my all-time favorite, ‘Why’d you get a job doodling all day? You should’ve been a doctor.’
“I call you all the time, Mom.”
“Once a month is what you call all the time? You were like that as a child, always too busy for your mother. You’ve always been cold and distant, just like your father. He was nuts and a loner. You’re exactly like him.”
And there it is. Whenever she’s not happy with me, she accuses me of being my father, a man I’ve never known, so I can’t dispute her words. She’s told me I’m crazy so many times that there were days, months, even years when I actually believed it.
“Are you going to leave me, too? Your only parent? We’re family. That’s all that matters. Tsh. What am I saying? You’ve already left me. You’re in a different state. You never visit me.”
Family is not all that matters, but I don’t argue with her as she reduces me to a child instead of treating me like a man who’s nearly forty.
“Now, we can talk about the lack of gratitude for me raising you all by myself later. I need to make sure you’ll be there for your cousin’s wedding next month. I presume you got the invitation?”
Wedding? Cousin? Who the fuck cares? Why does my mom? She’s kept me away from family my entire life. Why see them now? There has to be something she’s getting out of it. That’s the only reason.
“I don’t know her, Mom.”
“That’s neither here nor there. We’re family. You’ll be there. Did you get the invitation?”
I saw a fancy envelope come in the mail a few days ago, but I didn’t open it. “I think so.”
“Double check, and I expect you to offer the newlyweds an expensive gift. They have a registry. Make sure you pick out the nicest and most expensive gift.”
Ah, she’s going to flaunt my money and success to spite her family. To show how great she’s doing without them. Jesus fuck. And gee, here I thought she was perpetually disappointed in me.
“I will.”
I have no idea if I’ll go, but I guess I should. I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t. Sometimes it’s easier to placate my mother than to argue. She’s a bully like that, tormenting you over and over until you get exasperated and give in.
“Good, then. Look, honey, I’m sorry for snapping. It’s been a rough day. We’ll start over. Just call me sometime, okay? Are you coming for Christmas?”
She makes my head fucking spin. I swear to fucking god, I have whiplash.
I haven’t visited her once over the holidays since I moved. “Can’t. I’ll fly you over for Christmas.”
“Good. I love you.”
She doesn’t. I’m not sure she’s even capable.
“Love you, too.”
As bad as it sounds, I know deep down in my soul that when she dies, I won’t care.
I hate that about myself. But my life has been surrounded by her verbal abuse.
Between that, she fills my life with words of love and care when she feels I’m slipping away, or when she’s appeased because she’s gotten what she wants.
It’s all a manipulation. I know that. Still, the whiplash keeps me tethered to her, craving every goddamn morsel of love she strategically spoon feeds me.
I should see a therapist, but I don’t because I know exactly what they’ll tell me.
They’ll explain that I seek sex to have a moment when someone focuses their attention on me, which is pleasurable.
It’s not the sex as much as it’s the attention.
They find me worthy and attractive enough to accept me into their bed.
Then deep down into my amygdala, I fear rejection.
Rejection from her, from those I sleep with, and rejection from potential relationships.
I was rejected, but when you’re already running on a steady flow of insecurities, it’s enough to do you in.
Sleeping around fills that void and temporarily silences her negativity.
It’s also why I no longer do relationships.
I sought them out to get that much-needed love, and once I got it, I ended up leaving them…
until him. Until Grant. He cheated several times, which I cannot forgive.
It’s mentally easier not to get involved with anyone.
I’m just a fucking failure at them. The only thing I’m good at is architecture.
With a sigh, I run my hands through my hair. Any good mood I had is now gone. I swear, it’s like my mother tries to ruin my weekend on purpose. She sucks the energy out of my fucking soul.
If I were smart with a sense of self-preservation, I’d have no contact with her, but I always cave. Every single time.
“Screw it,” I snap out loud.
I put away the food I pulled out and make myself a quick sandwich instead. I gulp it down, then I hop into the shower. I need a distraction. Sex is always a good distraction. It’s time to go out and find my next lay.