“We never agreed. You dictated and eventually I swallowed my own objections. I’ve been choking on them ever since. Joy is here now and she stays.” Marcy tugged Joy’s hand and Joy followed her to the kitchen feeling her father’s stare of disapproval like bullet holes in her back.
We sit with her and we become zombies too. Not the flesh-eating kind. Just the vacant non-thinking kind because all we think about is how sad our mother’s life has become. How powerless we are to do anything about it. How much we want to get out of this place. We leave and never want to come back.
We were discussing his relationships with women. I told him he didn’t have any respect for women in general. He said he thinks his problem is something deep inside and he probably needs therapy to get at the root of it.
He’s dying and it has to be about her. It’s NOT ABOUT HER. WHY DOES SHE KEEP TRYING TO MAKE IT ABOUT HER? It takes a certain kind of selfish self-centeredness to make his illness about her.