Old Flame

Those smoldering embers at the bottom of my heart are flaring up a little today.

I don't spend a lot of time talking about my past here, it's sort of not necessary at this point in my life. We all have scars.

But I left home at 17 and moved in with my grandparents.

Leaving at 17 was about five years too late, really.
But I didn't have the understanding and emotional strength it took to do it.

It was only about a month between the time I made the decision and the time I left, though.

My dad isn't healthy mentally.
It isn't his fault.
And I no longer blame him.

But I can't be around him for any length of time without becoming angry at his continual verbal and emotional abuse, primarily directed at my mother.
It wouldn't be possible to explain all of it at once here, but here's an example.

A few years ago when I still thought Fluffy was a rational human being and that we could talk about the issues, I bought a digital voice recorder. I had already seen proof that she was a liar and that she was willing to say things that hadn't occurred. I don't want to wander off into details because I really am trying not to digress here... at least this time. Ha.

So I spent 25 bucks on a Memorex digital voice recorder.

I met with Fluffy and she lied her ass off.
Which wasn't a surprise.
Shitbag.

No comment on whether I utilized the recorder or not, doesn't matter, I don't work there anymore.

But after that I had it in my purse. And kept accidentally hitting the button when I'd go out. I'd pull something out of my purse and the little light would be blinking. I'd have 20 minutes or a half hour of random rustling noises. Jingling keys. Slamming car door. Muffled conversations.

And then I'd reset it and toss it back in my purse and say to myself that I'd remember to take it out later and then not do it.

Stick with me here, I promise I'm still on topic.

So about three years ago, my parents booked a trip to Southern Cal via Amtrak. They were heading down to visit my mom's sister.

It took a little convincing for them to even go since 'they' were "preying on old people" down there. "Gangs hiding behind every goddamn bush," followed with how my dad was going to handle them. "Knock that sonofabitchdown and stomp on his windpipe."

Paranoia is just a side dish to the whole mean and hateful guy.
It makes me sad to say it.
I love my parents.
Both of them.
But it's very hard to like my dad sometimes.

The plan was for them to drive over here from Eastern Butthump, I'd drive them in their vehicle to the train station and then keep their car at my house for the week, then pick them up again when they got back.

My dad decided they'd need to be at the train station four hours early.
No amount of conversation would change his mind.
But I had a physical therapy appointment that day, so I wasn't going to be able to drive them to the train station until about 3 hours before their train was scheduled to leave.

He was worried about that, he was just sure that somehow they were going to be late getting on the train.

We had to stop at the store so my mom could get a new stylus for her iPhone. He was pissy about the 12 minutes we spent in there.

Then he hit the roof when my mom wanted to stop at Starbucks and fill her travel mug.

"WE DO NOT HAVE TIME, SALLY!!" he thundered at her. "You're going to make us late!!"

I  said nothing, but since I was driving, I pulled into the Starbucks that was situated next to the parking lot exit from Freddy's. Dad was still grumbling as I got out with Mom's coffee cup and went in, leaving the engine running and my parents in their air conditioned vehicle.

I timed it. It took a little less than four minutes to get Mom's caramel whatever-the-fuck it was and get back to the car. She was sitting silently in the passenger side, he was behind her in the back seat.

I got us on the freeway and he complained about how late we were until we were about halfway there.

I finally said, "Dad, do you want me to pull over so you can drive?"

He said, "No, but," and I cut him off.

"Then stop bitching and let me drive. You're distracting me and we aren't going to be late."

Then he went to sleep, or pretended to be asleep, not sure which.

When we got to the train station, they had almost two hours to kill before they could even board the train.

I'd had more than enough of his bullshit for the day, I was three weeks out from the ankle surgery, it was hot, I was tired and I wanted to go home and take a goddamn nap. So I  made sure they were comfortable and in the area where they would be able to board first (Mom was using a cane then, she uses a walker now) and told them goodbye and drove home.

When I got here, I got my phone out of my purse to set an alarm and the little voice recorder fell out, too.

I picked it up, unsurprised to see the little light blinking once again.

Decided to listen to it. It had been recording since my parents had arrived at my house that morning, apparently when I moved my purse off the table for Mom to put hers up there,  I pushed the button.

I listened to a bit of conversation, hit ffwd, listened to a bit more.

Then I found the spot where I'd gone into Starbucks.

As soon as I'd closed my car door, my dad had started a monologue.

It was about being late, my mom was 'stupid' and he 'hoped the coffee made her sick.'

"I hope it poisons you,"  he said in a low and angry voice, "and you die. It would serve you right. SERVE YOU RIGHT."

Mom said nothing.

He said a couple more things to her, both were verbal wishes that she'd be harmed by the coffee in some way. It was ugly and venomous and horrible and even though it was three years ago, I'm still disgusted by it.

I never said anything to either one of them.

But it made me sad for my mom.

When we all lived at home, my dad had more targets for his anger.
I won't even go into all that.
We'd be here for weeks.

But one by one, we left. And Mom was the last target standing.
So she's been getting it all for, hm, let me think here.
With the exception of occasional visits by either my brothers or me, it's been about 30 years of constant verbal abuse for Mom.

I know that she thinks it's her place to put up with it. She never argues with him anymore, but it's gotten to the point where she just ignores it. I'm sure in some part of her mind, she's praising her god that she's mostly deaf without her hearing aids. She rarely wears them, that way Dad can go on and on and she can occasionally nod or say, "Yes, Dear."

So awhile back I wrote about how the businessmen in their little town rip people off.

The refrigerator they got about 11 months ago was nearly 2 grand in their little town, would have been about 950 here in Portland.

They got a refrigerator with the freezer on the bottom and fridge on top, which strikes me as a good arrangement. Easier for Mom to get in and out of it, easier to find things, put stuff away... just easier all around.

But this thing hasn't worked right since they got it. They've had the appliance repair person up six? seven? times to fix it. It works for a few weeks, then they get up in the morning and it's melted down again. They've lost groceries. They've had to buy restaurant meals while waiting for it to be fixed. It's gone on and on.

I asked Mom via messenger (we chat almost every evening) why they don't demand the damn thing be replaced.
"For goodness sake, Mom, it's under warranty but hasn't worked right yet... stand up for yourself! The guy is ripping you off!"

And my mom said, "Well, I shouldn't have picked out that model. Your dad is right, it was stupid to get one with the freezer on the bottom. It makes the compressor work too hard. We've just gone around and around, it's so much stress!"

I said, "Are you kidding me? Dad is blaming YOU for the fridge not working?"

"Well, I should have gotten a different one."

I was pissed off. Still am, actually.
Pissed at her for putting up with a brand new appliance that doesn't work correctly, pissed at her for letting my dad blame HER for it (last time I checked she is retired and does not work for Whirlpool) and pissed at my dad for being an asshole.

The latest? "Some guy" at an appliance repair shop about 90 miles from them (no, we don't service your area, the company is incorrect) suggested they unplug it for 24 hours to allow it time to reset.

And my mom is no longer going to use the ice from the ice maker in the freezer, instead buying ice at the store and putting it in the big upright freezer they have in their laundry room.

"Dad thinks that I'm opening it too often, that's why it's not working."

"Are you kidding me? So USING the fridge is why it's not working properly?!?!"

"Well your dad is a worrier, I'm used to it."

"No, Mom, worrying isn't blaming your wife for a refrigerator that doesn't work. That's not worrying. And not using your refrigerator because of that? Good grief."

So I'm pissed at myself for being pissed at my mom for her not being pissed at my dad who's pissed at her for an appliance that MY AUNT paid for not working!

Makes me crabby every time I think about it.