My God, my parents just had the biggest goddamn fight I've seen and heard (mostly heard) in years, if not decades. And it all stems from a letter. And from me.
They just sold one of their properties here, and they told me last (Wednesday) night to write a letter to the insurance company to cancel the homeowner's insurance policy. And quickly, My Father and Mother showed they had very different ideas on how to write a cancellation notice. First, Mother wanted me to write out a letter which she will type at the library later today. Then, Father said that I could just write it out on a piece of paper because the plan is to fax it, not mail it. And after I wrote a very perfunctory and quick request to cancel this policy number which is for this property (they came back from some errand) Mother wanted me to write a return address down. And then she told me to write down the phone number. And then no, not the landline, but Father's cell #. (I asked her why she couldn't do it; she said that a letter written two different ways would arouse suspicion.)
So I did it and got up and left in incredulity. My Mother took the sheet I wrote and walked to My Father, who was finishing up washing the dishes, similarly getting incredulous that I wrote down not one but two phone numbers. At this point it was apparent that she wanted to be as meticulous as possible with this letter I wrote for them while he wanted to just get the damn thing sent. And he let her know about as soon as I entered my bedroom: "I told you I wanted a simple goddamn letter!" And so I heard a yell-fest between the two that rivals anything I heard when I was a kid, and they were arguing as soon as they came home late at night and continued as they went down the stairs and hit the shower.
This fight did not last as long as those childhood memories: Ten or fifteen minutes at the most, long compared to arguments between decent and sane couples but short for my folks. But they went at it. Through the Chinese I thought I could make out, My Father was on the attack, berating My Mother for continually ignoring his desire for a quick letter quickly sent. Mother may or may not have ridiculed him for thinking he could do a half-ass effort for such an important letter, but I think she just started to get defensive about Father haranguing her.
I was just going to let the knock-down-drag-out fight outside as I retreated to my safe space. But then I heard something slightly different. Father had already locked the door when they came back from that errand after dinner. But I heard Mother quickly unlatch all the locks and storm out, with a grunting Father shoving open the screen door after she exited.
Then I heard their minivan start up. I've heard this a couple times before; after a fight, Mother just takes off. She would be gone for hours at a time, but she would come back before we went to bed. That's what I thought she felt like she needed to do, but this time Father chased after her.
So now I had to see what the fuck was going on. Mother wanted to bolt for parts unknown, but this time Father wouldn't let her. She started the car; he may have talked her down to the point she turned it off. She continued yelling and started it up. He walked away from the driver's-side door, but instead walked behind the car. The minivan started creeping back before Mother realized she was about to run Father over, so she jerked it to a stop. Finally, as he circled back beside her, she turned off the car and went back inside.
I didn't see anybody driving or passing by. I have no idea how no one at least heard them; they were screaming so loudly (at least Mother) that if a cop car was rolling by, I know a cop would have stopped to ask what the fuck was going on. But as embarrassing as that was, I couldn't help but focus on the behavior of both of my parental units. Both of them were terrible. But I don't know who was worse: Mother for storming out of the house and yelling so loudly the neighbors could hear, or Father for manipulating Mother's feelings and then challenging her into staying, even by standing behind a car that could run him over. She shouldn't have bolted out the door, but he shouldn't have forced her to stay. Both of them suck.
And so I go back to one of the statements I tell myself whenever I feel the need to sum up my life: I have been ruined because of my parents. I have both My Mother's penchant for overreacting and My Father's need to be right. And all my yelling? Turns out I get it from both of them. I learned really well listening into downstairs when I was young.
She didn't leave the driveway, but she's sleeping in my sister's room. Just another day in the Unforgivable Wetness household.
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