[As I patiently wait for my mother's latest contribution to this on-going saga, I feel the need to relate this story, which happened in December of 2000. The next time she asks me when I tried to talk to her before, maybe I will let her read it]
“It’s such a shame you and your mother don’t talk to each other”
“I know, but it’s an ongoing thing, I’m afraid. Besides – when she visits, it’s hard to get her outside the front door, and with my grandparents in the same house, we can’t get a moment to ourselves!”
Sandra looked deep into his eyes, and could see how much this meant to him, and could tell he needed a helping hand.
“Tell you what,” she said, “When she does come over, would you want her to meet me? I’ll understand if you don’t…”
“Of COURSE I want her to meet you! It’s just not that simple…”
“Well how about this. What if the two of you come into town to meet me, then I can go home after an hour or so, and you two will have a chance to talk!”
He was overwhelmed by her offer.
“That’s a brilliant idea, babe. I will put it to her, but there’s one thing you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“She has accepted offers to go out several times before, only to be struck down with a ‘mysterious illness’ on the day.”
“Ah, now, how many times has that REALLY happened? Once? Twice?”
“Sandra, I can safely say she has done that at least once every time we have been together for the past ten years. It’s way more than twice, believe me.”
“Well, put it to her anyway, see what she says. That’s all you can do, isn’t it?”
“Okay, okay, I will. Thanks again, that’s a good idea.”
On his way home from the airport two weeks later, he mentioned in passing to his mother that his new girlfriend would like to meet her during the course of her stay.
“Sure! That sounds great! When will she be coming over?”
“Well, I was thinking maybe you and I could meet her in town some evening?”
The pause was so slight he wondered if he had imagined it.
“Sounds good! Just tell me when okay?”
That was on the Monday. He proceeded to make arrangements for the following Monday night, so everybody had enough notice. They were all to meet in The Bridge pub on Westmoreland Street at 8pm, and he informed his mother they should leave the house around 7:15pm.
Life went on as normal in the meantime. He worked by day, had his kids on the agreed nights, and paid the odd visit to his grandparent’s home to spend time with them and his visiting mother. He even brought the kids over one evening.
He constantly reminded her about the Monday evening rendez-vous, so much so that she was growing increasingly impatient with her replies.
And so Monday evening arrived, and after stopping at home to change after work, he drove over around 6:30pm. She was up in her room, which he took as a bad sign.
“Has she been up today?” he enquired of his grandmother.
“I haven’t seen her,” was the reply.
He paced up and down the kitchen for about ten minutes, and sent Sandra a text message : “not lookin good shes been locked in her room all day”
A minute later came the response : “y don’t u just ask her if shes going or not”
Yes, of course, he thought, why don’t I?
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he felt like a six-year-old asking his Mommy if he could have a cookie, THAT’S why.
“Maura?”
This pause was not so slight.
“What?”
“Will you be ready to go at a quarter past?”
“Yes, yes, it’s not even seven yet is it?”
“Okay, okay, just asking!”
At precisely 7:15pm, he heard the thud thud coming down the stairs, accompanied by several impatient gasps of annoyance as she tried to adjust the mammoth cloth bag she elected to bring with her around her shoulders.
“Well, let’s go! Are you ready?”
“Sure! No problem!” he replied positively, deciding against making the sarcastic comment about the size of the bag.
With that they said their goodbye to the elderly couple, and set off on the fifteen-minute walk to the bus-stop.
“It’s such a shame you and your mother don’t talk to each other”
“I know, but it’s an ongoing thing, I’m afraid. Besides – when she visits, it’s hard to get her outside the front door, and with my grandparents in the same house, we can’t get a moment to ourselves!”
Sandra looked deep into his eyes, and could see how much this meant to him, and could tell he needed a helping hand.
“Tell you what,” she said, “When she does come over, would you want her to meet me? I’ll understand if you don’t…”
“Of COURSE I want her to meet you! It’s just not that simple…”
“Well how about this. What if the two of you come into town to meet me, then I can go home after an hour or so, and you two will have a chance to talk!”
He was overwhelmed by her offer.
“That’s a brilliant idea, babe. I will put it to her, but there’s one thing you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“She has accepted offers to go out several times before, only to be struck down with a ‘mysterious illness’ on the day.”
“Ah, now, how many times has that REALLY happened? Once? Twice?”
“Sandra, I can safely say she has done that at least once every time we have been together for the past ten years. It’s way more than twice, believe me.”
“Well, put it to her anyway, see what she says. That’s all you can do, isn’t it?”
“Okay, okay, I will. Thanks again, that’s a good idea.”
On his way home from the airport two weeks later, he mentioned in passing to his mother that his new girlfriend would like to meet her during the course of her stay.
“Sure! That sounds great! When will she be coming over?”
“Well, I was thinking maybe you and I could meet her in town some evening?”
The pause was so slight he wondered if he had imagined it.
“Sounds good! Just tell me when okay?”
That was on the Monday. He proceeded to make arrangements for the following Monday night, so everybody had enough notice. They were all to meet in The Bridge pub on Westmoreland Street at 8pm, and he informed his mother they should leave the house around 7:15pm.
Life went on as normal in the meantime. He worked by day, had his kids on the agreed nights, and paid the odd visit to his grandparent’s home to spend time with them and his visiting mother. He even brought the kids over one evening.
He constantly reminded her about the Monday evening rendez-vous, so much so that she was growing increasingly impatient with her replies.
And so Monday evening arrived, and after stopping at home to change after work, he drove over around 6:30pm. She was up in her room, which he took as a bad sign.
“Has she been up today?” he enquired of his grandmother.
“I haven’t seen her,” was the reply.
He paced up and down the kitchen for about ten minutes, and sent Sandra a text message : “not lookin good shes been locked in her room all day”
A minute later came the response : “y don’t u just ask her if shes going or not”
Yes, of course, he thought, why don’t I?
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he felt like a six-year-old asking his Mommy if he could have a cookie, THAT’S why.
“Maura?”
This pause was not so slight.
“What?”
“Will you be ready to go at a quarter past?”
“Yes, yes, it’s not even seven yet is it?”
“Okay, okay, just asking!”
At precisely 7:15pm, he heard the thud thud coming down the stairs, accompanied by several impatient gasps of annoyance as she tried to adjust the mammoth cloth bag she elected to bring with her around her shoulders.
“Well, let’s go! Are you ready?”
“Sure! No problem!” he replied positively, deciding against making the sarcastic comment about the size of the bag.
With that they said their goodbye to the elderly couple, and set off on the fifteen-minute walk to the bus-stop.
The first few minutes were frought with silence as they both fumbled for a suitable topic for small talk. He decided on the funny story Sandra had told him that day about her co-worker in the hope that it could later become an ice-breaker.
He had strayed a couple of feet ahead of her as he related the story when he heard the brief scream and the dull thud behind him. When he turned, he saw his mother face-down on her bag on a grassy verge by the side of the road.
“Oh my God, are you ok?”
“Yes, I think so,”
“What happened?”
“I didn’t see the kerb! I think I’ve twisted my ankle.”
In his mind, court was now in session. The trial was long, protracted, comprehensive, even messy at times, even though in reality it only lasted a few seconds. The verdict : hung jury, just bring her home and proceed into town on your own to meet Sandra.
“Well there’s no way you can go anywhere now! Let’s just get you home, ok?”
He helped her to her feet, and then it crossed his mind that he could order a taxi, but he chose instead to see how she reacted to the situation.
“Okay, we can do this another night. You will go on instead won’t you?”
“Well I’ll have to; she will have gotten herself ready and left her flat by now!”
“Okay, well tell her I’m sorry, ok?”
He decided against suggesting he phone an ambulance, as she was actually able to make it home under her own steam, albeit with a limp.
“No need to walk with me, you go on ahead!”
“Ah no, sure it’s only around the corner! Besides, did you bring your key?”
“Good point!”
When they got through the front door, he started a text message for Sandra, then thought better of it.
“Let me take that, and you sit yourself down, ok?”
He took the bag from around her shoulders, and could not resist taking a peek to see what was inside.
It was her big thick Aran sweater.
Well it was a bit cold out, after all.
POINT OF INFORMATION
Maura was not to meet Sandra until her next visit to Ireland twelve months later. And yes, the meeting had to take place by virtue of my fiancee coming to the Lee house.
