My Parent’s Conversation

February 12th, 2013 posted by W. Bruce Cameron

woman As a general rule, I prefer to talk to my parents singly, alone, and briefly. However, since they are, after all, married, I sometimes can’t avoid a conversation with the two of them together. Lest this seem harsh, I offer the following unedited, uncut transcript of a recent discussion I had with them. “Guess who we saw the other day!” my mom suddenly blurts to me in a joyous tone. I frown. Nearly always, this leads to a story about some person from my high-school graduating class who is now wildly successful as a lawyer or the dictator of a small South American country. “Elvis Presley?” I guess. “It was Wednesday,” my father interjects, as if this will help. “We almost ran out of gas, your mother never fills the tank.” “Ah, not Elvis then,” I conclude wisely. “We did NOT run out of gas”, she snaps. “Almost. I said almost,” my father states for the record. “How often do you fill the car’s tank, Mom?” I ask, thinking this might make for a safe topic. “How should I know?” she demands. “I only drive it to the grocery store.” I ponder this. “Okay,” I sigh. “So who did you see on Wednesday, and why are you disappointed I didn’t turn out like him?” “It wasn’t Wednesday,” my mother disagrees. “It was Thursday.” My father shakes his head. “Thursday we went to that new Italian restaurant, Gambucci’s. It was the day before. Wednesday.” “What? I’ve never been to Gambucci’s before in my life,” my mother objects. He stares at her as if only now realizing she is crazy. “How can you say that? We’ve been there three times this year. Last time, I had the lasagna.” “Ha!” She makes a dismissive gesture. “You always pretend to remember what you had. I NEVER remember what I had at a restaurant,” she proclaims, as if this is a new virtue. “You had what you always have there,” he informs her patronizingly. “Spaghetti.” “I did not!” she says indignantly. I blink. “Mom, if you never remember what you ordered, how do you know you didn’t have spaghetti?” “Why do you automatically take your father’s side?” she wants to know, wounded. “Your mother makes spaghetti once a week, and what does she order every time we go out? Spaghetti. Or the trout,” my father informs me. “Why would you order trout in an Italian restaurant? They only put it there for people who don’t like Italian food.” “I haven’t made spaghetti in a month!” my mother says defensively. “What’s that got to do with anything?” my father challenges. “I’ll never make it again, if it offends you so much.” He frowns. This is clearly a concession he was not seeking. “I’m only saying that you should order trout when we go to a seafood place, and Italian when we go Italian,” he explains. “That’s the point I’ve been trying to make all along, here.” “Like where?” she demands. “The only place we ever go is Eddie’s, and they don’t even have trout. Would it hurt you to take me someplace else, just once?” “Like Gambucci’s?” I suggest mischievously, but I am drowned out by my father’s outrage. “Yes they do!” he thunders. “Eddie’s is KNOWN for their trout. You just always get the chicken.” “So? I happen to like the chicken,” she snaps. “Have you ever even TRIED the trout?” my father wants to know. “How should I know? I NEVER remember what I order,” my mother says triumphantly. They pause, as if aware that, like a pair of campers lost in the woods, they have wandered in a complete circle. “What I’m saying here,” my father finally states, “is that I LIKE your spaghetti. I wish you made it more often. THAT’s the point I’ve been trying to make all along.” “All you do is complain.” “I’m not complaining! I said I liked it!” “Then why did you order the LASAGNA?” she demands with a certain air of triumph. Muttering, my father storms out, and my mother gives me a “well I settled THAT” expression. I am, I have to admit, a bit curious as to whom they saw on Wednesday. But I’m afraid to ask.

W. Bruce Cameron (20 Posts)


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Cindy Rowe
Cindy Rowe (7 Posts)

Cindy Rowe is the owner/editor of Crazylou Creations blog. On the blog, you will find a little bit of crazy, and a whole lot of fun! As a FT working mother, she still finds time to create crafts, play around in the kitchen, plan parties and exercise. You'll find all of this and more on her blog!


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