Mrs. Complicated

I only wanted one simple thing. That’s all. Just one simple phone call and things got complicated. Why I didn’t just make the phone call myself, I do not know. Maybe is has to do with my phobias surrounding the phone or maybe I was just passing the buck.

“What are you doing over here?” My father asked from his chair in the den.

“I need mom to do something.” I replied.

“You are treading in dangerous waters, son.” He said as he laughed and I walked on by ignoring his warning and should have known better. Nothing concerning my mother is simple.

I walked down the long hall to my mother’s bedroom. I opened the door and walked to the bedside. My mother’s cat stared at me warily whilst lying atop her side. I call her possum as that is what she looks like; grayish white with a striped tail and big, round nocturnal eyes.

“Mom……” I said.

The cat looked ready to bolt any minute; her gaze watching my every move.

“mmmphhhh.” Was the mumbled reply after a few moments of standing next to the bed.

“Hey, are you with us?” I asked loudly.

Mom sat up abruptly as if alarmed sending the cat tumbling to her side. The cat was not amused and scuffled off the bed and under it.

I knew mom had an appointment to get her hair fixed at 3 PM and my appointment to get my hair cut followed hers. She had made the appointment with the hairdresser for us without asking me. I thought it would be simple since she knew Rhonda, the hairdresser, for her to call and cancel for me.

“I need you to cancel my hair cut appointment.” I said.

I really didn’t want a hair cut appointment with Rhoda anyway. She always gives me a funky haircut. She gives great little old lady hairdos like my mother prefers but sorely lacks in the men’s department. I prefer Jim, my barber, instead. He costs $5 bucks whereas Rhonda charges $13 bucks for an inferior haircut. Hey, and Jim trims my sideburns just right every time and gets them even.

“Why?” She asked.

“My dandruff is acting up and I am embarrassed about it. I need to wait a week until the shampoo does its thing.” I replied thinking that was a good excuse and that was partly why. I didn’t want to just come out and say I hated Rhonda’s haircuts.

“Okay, I will make you an appointment for next week.” She replied.

“Don’t worry about it. I will take care of the hair cut myself.” I said.

“You need a haircut so let Rhoda cut it next week. I will call her right now.” Mom said.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I thought to myself. Why did something so simple have to be so complicated?

“Mom, I just need you to cancel. Okay? Please? That is all I need.” I replied.

“Do you not like how Rhonda does my hair? I think she gives good haircuts.” Mom asked and stated.

I had to choke back a laugh after she asked this. It reminded me of the Carol Burnett Show sketch were Carol, her husband, and their child were sitting in a school counselor’s office. The counselor shows Carol a drawing by their child. There were two crude large stick people representing mother and father and a little dot representing the child. The counselor’s point was that the child was expressing through the drawing that he felt left out, small, and inferior. Carol looked at the drawing and said incredulously, “You mean my hair really looks that bad?”

“Just forget it and go back to sleep.” I said amused.

“Well, okay. You sure you don’t want me to call?” Mom asked.

“I am VERY sure.” I replied.

As I walked back past dad to head home, he asked, “What happened?”

“You don’t want to know.” I replied.

“I told you so!” He said as he laughed.

I walked back home to make the call I should have made in the first place.