Dinner Dates
Chapter 2
oOoOo
His phone chirped indicating an incoming message. He looked at it and smiled. It wasn't a happy smile per se, more a satisfied smile, a smile of acknowledgement. Actually, truth be told, it was more a dismal smile of resignation. He sighed.
"Mission accomplished. Papers served."
He showed Edna, sitting across the table from him.
"Hot diggity. Just wish I was there to witness her reaction. Bet ya it was a meltdown of epic proportions."
As if on cue, Frank received another text message, this one surprisingly from his neighbour, Jakub Petrovski.
"RU OK? Helen is screaming like a fishwife. Should we be concerned?"
Quickly texting Jakub back, he wrote, "Divorce papers just served. I guess she was not happy." And he signed off with a winking emoticon.
He didn't care if the neighbours knew about the divorce, but he thought he'd put it out there regardless. He knew it would annoy Helen no end, if she realised that the notorious Burg grapevine was poised for a meltdown. News would soon spread like a wildfire once Jakub explained to his nosy wife, Milena, the reason for Helen's fishwife performance. And best of all, Milena Petrovski loved to gossip. How ironic.
"Payback is a bitch, Helen Mazur Plum. Take that! Just perfect," Frank sighed to himself.
"Just perfect? Payback? Frank?"
He realised he must have muttered those words loud enough for her sharp ears to pick up. And seeing that Edna was bursting with curiosity, he showed her Jakub's text and his reply.
"What a pip!" she chuckled. "What will the neighbours say now?" she sing-songed. "Proud of you son. About time you got your head out of your ass."
She toasted her glass of white wine against his red wine glass, making a pleasant crystal chime. He took a large mouthful, enjoying the rich flavour that went so well with his lasagne. The candle light made Edna's eyes twinkle and she smiled, a knowing smile.
Edna Mazur had seen this coming for a long time. She had watched her daughter's decline into alcoholism and how she had pushed Frank to the absolute limit. She was tired of picking up the mess and cleaning up the pieces after her daughter, with the notion to keep up appearances for her dignity. Pfft. Dignity? She had none. The woman was delusional. She was disgusted with her daughters' behaviour and her appearance. Edna was really fed up with parenting her once again. She washed her hands off her responsibilities and let (Helen's) nature take its course. Frank had to open his eyes and see. See what she saw. See it with clarity and no more of that denial bullshit. It didn't take long.
That morning, when she had one of her small overnight bags packed by the front door, he realised his dilemma, two weeks before Valentine's Day.
"You're leaving?"
"Have already left."
"You're leaving me alone with her?"
"Your choice, Frank." She shrugged her shoulders disconsolately.
"I am sick and tired of picking up the pieces. I'm too old for that baloney. She is not my responsibility. Think about it. Is this what you signed up for? Really?"
"I know what you're saying, Edna. But … I can't leave her high and dry …"
"Interesting choice of words, Frank."
"I'm not telling you how to live your life, Frank. But, I will ask you one question. Is this how you envisaged spending your life in your Autumn years?"
He hung his head in shame and despondency. He was a man completely at the end of his tether. Helen's incessant whining and bullying ways wore him out, wore him down. To be honest, he was exhausted. He wasn't always the target. Previously, that dreadful, relentless, malicious gossiping about their daughter Stephanie and maligning her job and her love life, the put downs and that incessant whining of "Why me?" and "What will the neighbour's think?" drove him batshit crazy. He should have defended Stephanie. Conveniently, for his own sanity, he did what many men did. He shut it out, but, while ignoring her, he simultaneously enabled her, instead of calling her out on her shit.
She was relentless now that the girls had grown up. There was no let up, just a different direction or target. Come to think of it, he then realised another reality check. The girls, Valerie and Stephanie, rarely visited. They rang him occasionally, on his phone, never on the house phone. Sometimes Valerie would pop in while Helen was on her Giovincchini's pilgrimage and … Holy shit! She would leave a meal in the fridge, and some cake. And now? No more Stephanie. And, strangely enough, no more Valerie. He became aware that Valerie was actively keeping her daughters away from their lush of a grandmother. She was now an embarrassment and such a toxic influence. And, definitely not a good role model for their granddaughters. Ironic how that was one of her most favoured words in her relentless criticism of Stephanie … embarrassment.
All the partially filled and empty bottles which he found in the most remarkable of places throughout the house, were beyond belief. So many!
Disbelief.
Shock.
No longer in denial.
Reality had bitten him on the ass.
Some days were fine, he reflected further, with Edna's eyes watching his thought processes avidly. On those days, the house was clean and tidy, meals were cooked, and cookies and cake were freshly baked. The laundry and ironing were done. Helen was dressed neatly, her hair was done and she was always wearing her favourite pretty apron. That apron was like a barometer of her state of mind. Alas, those times had become more intermittent.
He had endured her erratic mood swings, the changeable and inconsistent state of the house, especially since Helen was so notoriously house proud. Meals were not always prepared and the fridge was often bare. There were many times when she had spent her entire household budget, on booze of course, before the fortnight was up. Having to order a pizza delivery or take-away Chinese more frequently lately, was a bit embarrassing but he didn't give a bloody brass razoo what the neighbours thought. It is what it is. Not that he liked this predicament, no way, not at all.
Frank had even considered if she was a dementia or Alzheimer's candidate and had made enquiries when he saw the doctor. With information pamphlets for dementia and Alzheimer's, he noticed that the doctor had also included alcohol addiction.
He had finally reached the point of no return whilst she lived blissfully oblivious in the land of denial and her wretched 'iced tea' or 'winter punch'. She was a lush. He tried in vain to have her committed and suggested a short-term program in a detox retreat. This was met with such hysteria and utter denial, he was positive all the neighbours heard her manic response. From then on, Frank slept in the spare room. The next morning, she greeted him, wearing that pretty apron, like nothing had changed and that fiery domestic interchange from the previous evening was forgotten, like it never happened. Sure enough, it was not long lived. Within two days, she was back to her alcohol addiction in full force, worse than previous times. For how long could he endure that?
It was blissfully quiet in the mornings. He escaped as soon as he was up, showered and dressed, while she slept off her binge drinking. Hangover aftermaths were not his scene and he wanted out of the house so fast. Breakfast at a diner became the new norm, an occasional coffee with one of his Nam buddies, or the peace of the Lodge between taking taxi fares.
Making up his mind, he made the appropriate enquiries and had the paperwork notarised before the end of the week. His mind was made up. Edna was right. When they tried to have her committed their attempts failed miserably. That was when he packed his bags and was ready to go.
Ironically, today was probably the first time in ages when the house looked neat and respectable, like days of old, when the girls were growing up, before she drank herself into a oblivion, before she became a hopeless addict. She didn't want his help, despite many efforts to reason with her. No going back now. No regrets.
He was shocked to find out that even her own mother had abandoned her daughter. She too had had enough of this disgraceful charade. Edna was tired of the lies and the deceit. That pride was going to be Helen Plum's undoing. What do they say? Pride goeth before destruction, a haughty spirit before the fall. Hubris, that damned foolish pride of hers was her own undoing. He shook his head.
So, here they were, having a solemn candle lit dinner on Valentine's Day in Rossini's, Frank and his mother-in-law, Edna, his partner in crime so to speak. Frank was reflecting on how recent events brought him to this moment: having the courage to finally really see what had become of their life and, especially, the courage to follow through with divorce papers. That they were served upon her on this day was pure coincidence.
Edna finished her creamy linguine with prawns, while he toyed with the last of his lasagne with his fork. The waiter refilled their glasses.
"To new beginnings, Frank. Moving forward and no regrets. We have done our best."
"Salute."
"Salute."
It was a solemn toast, but firm and sincere in their conscience.
While they had dessert and an espresso, Edna's eyes had been quietly scrutinising the clientele on this romantic day. The restaurant had created a very ambient atmosphere with candle lit tables with crisp white linens. Young lovers, young newlyweds, shy first timers perhaps on a first date, older couples, and then here she was with her son-in-law. Rather than Valentine's Day, they were celebrating the new direction their lives were taking. It was more like sealing the deal, closing a significant chapter of their lives. Neither felt in a truly celebratory mood. It was hard to let go but such dire circumstances required drastic changes, changes for the better. Anything would be an improvement from that previous existence.
Edna sniggered. Frank eyed her curiously.
"Don't look now, Frank. But, check out who is in the corner at the back there. Not yet. Slowly." She chuckled at her discovery.
oOoOo
TBC
So, who did do you think Edna spotted?