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© January, 2008 Janet Trakin
My next step was to call my mother. How I was dreading it. I could predict what she was going to say. That’s how well I knew her.
“Hello, Mom?” I spewed venom into the receiver.
“Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you. I left several messages on your machine, and you don’t call. Don’t you know that I worry,” she sobbed.
“I’m in
“
“Mom, I have found true love, and I am staying. Just sell everything and send me the check.” I did not realize I could be so heartless with my mother.
“And what about your medicine? How are you going to get your medicine?” she shrieked.
“Love is the drug,” I quoted Roxy Music. “I’m going cold turkey. That psychiatric trip in
“But you need your medicine,” my Mom cried stubbornly.
“Not with Hanna I don’t. She is the strongest, most together person I’ve ever met. She will take care of me,” I said.
“Who’s Hanna?” she shrieked like a madcap scientist.
“Hanna is your new daughter-in-law. We are getting married. It’s legal here.”
“Wait till I tell your father. First a black man, then a lesbian. You should have stuck with Antonio.”
“Antonio was in the Mafia Mom. And ya know, Dad was probably right. He was probably married. Although we don’t have any evidence.”
“Oh, not this again. Leaving your family, your country, your life,” she kept on going.
“I never had a life in
“Do what you want. I’m selling your stuff. Just don’t ask for money,” she said in a resigned tone and hung up.
“That phone call did not go well,” I said to Hanna.
“Don’t worry about your mother. Let her worry about you. You have me now.”