mallorys_camera | The Rocking Horse Winner: an update (Reply)

So Nancy, my mother-in-law, calls last night and she is on a tear. "What's the matter, Nancy?" I ask.

"Just let me talk to Ben," she barks.

I hover on the periphery of a one-sided phone conversation. "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Well, I agree: that's an awful thing to say –"

"What's going on?" I ask.

Ben frowns and holds up his hand: back off.

"Is something going on with Robin?"

Ben ignores me. "It's a big transition. And I know he's expressed concern about Max leaving home, we've talked about it a lot –"

Jabber on the other end. Ben holds the phone away from his head – "Well, I don't know why he said that. I've never talked to him about it. Why don't you let me speak to him now, see if I can calm him down."

Robin – due to come back home today after five weeks at doting Grandma's – had evidently woken up in the middle of the night crying and distraught. His two chief concerns: Max has abandoned the family and the little store is doing so badly that we're all going to end up in a cardboard box under the bridge.

"Wait! He's not worried that a meteor is going to hit the earth and wipe out intelligent life as we know it?" I ask when Ben puts down the phone. "How could he have overlooked that?"

Ben glares at me. "That's not funny, Patrizia."

"You're right," I said. "Wanna know what else isn't funny? When your mother has concerns about my son and brushes me off like I was some kind of hired wet nurse. What does she think? That I'm the world's worst mother?"

Ben sighed. "I'm sure she doesn't think that. There was that woman in Florida who sold her 10 year old for crack cocaine cash. I bet even my mother thinks she's worse."

"Fuck you and fuck your mother," I say. I'm really pissed off now.

"Look. Everyone thinks you're a good mother. But you're always so busy, sometimes Robin gets lost in the shuffle –"

"You're right, I am busy," I say. "I'm busy being the revenue stream. I'm busy working two jobs. I'm busy being the one who provides all the cash to maintain our lifestyle, such as it is. And of course that cash is never enough hence the constant sound of rotating hamster wheel noises in the background –"

Ben sighed again. "That's one of the things my mother yelled at me about. Robin's really afraid that the store is doing so badly that we're going broke and we're going to end up living in a cardboard box under the bridge –"

"Yeah. Well. That is my standard joke. The Maytag box under the bridge."

"My mother thinks when we're worried, we should hide it better –"

"Oh. So I'm not allowed to let down my hair in the privacy of my own home? You know, personally, I think it's a good thing for Robin to know we're struggling financially. Maybe it'll stop him from whining all the time for new video games and cell phones –"

"My mother thinks an eleven year old is too young to deal with issues like that."

"Your mother can eat shit," I say. Not a particularly witty rejoinder. But a heart-felt one.

Am I tempted to say more? You betcha. I am this close to letting Ben have it out of double barrels. This close to calling Nancy and telling her that as far as I'm concerned she'll never see Robin again. But wait. Maybe I'm this close to calling Nancy and telling her that she can keep Robin, that I never want to see him again.

Motherhood. It doesn't come naturally to me. I love my kids passionately but honest to God, it's so much work.

This morning I'm allowed to speak to Robin on the phone. He's on a role, milking last night's crying jag to the max. "And you're going to play the X-Men video game with me all weekend long," he says in the little pitious voice I refer to as the Squeaky Mouse persona.

"I don't like the X-Men," I say.

"That doesn't matter."

"I have an idea!" I say. "Why don't we lie in bed all weekend and watch Helena Bonham Carter movies?"

"Helena Bonham who?"

"Missus Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," I say. "I know you'll get a big kick out of Howard's End. See, it's about a lot of really stuffy English people who never scream or yell at each other –"

"Sounds boring," says Robin.

"To you, maybe. Just like the X-Men video game sounds boring to me."

We've reached an impasse here. So I tell him what's in my heart: "Look, I miss you like crazy and I can't wait to see you again. I've been storing up kisses since you've been gone and I have – wait! I'll count – exactly three hundred thousand, four hundred and sixty two of them. I'll see you at the airport tonight and I love you, Mouse –"

"Love you more," says Robin.