Is the 'I Love You' Worth It?

Mommy Dearest

My family has arrived. About ten minutes before they showed, Tre decided it’d be a good time to show his family stuff. He didn’t specify what stuff he was going to show them. He just said stuff. That’s perfectly fine with me. I’d rather deal with my parents alone and get them settled in before they meet Tre. my mother is complaining about the service at the car rental place in Los Angeles as I lead them in the door.
“When I call in and say I want a four door luxury sedan, they better have it for me,” she says, practically puffing out her chest.
“That’s why I said you should have flown in to San Francisco. You wouldn’t have had to rent a car at all,” I say ushering them into the front room. Immediately, my mother stops bitching and clutches her chest.
“Is this my granddaughter?” she gasps. I resist rolling my eyes and pick the wobbly Ramona up out of her swing/chair thing, hoisting her to my shoulder. my mother grabs her out of my arms and continues to fuss over her. Then she stops, holding Ramona away from her and inspecting her outfit.
“What’s this?” she says, I’m assuming n reference to the Green Day onsie. “You didn’t even bother to dress her up to meet her grandparents?”
“Dress her up? She’s six days old,” I say. Okay, scoff. I scoffed it. “Besides, Tre’s parents didn’t care what she’s wearing.”
“Oh yes, the father,” my mother says, narrowing her eyes. “I see he’s not here.”
I could stab her with a letter opener right now.
“He’s showing his parents around town,” I say, watching as my father gets bored and wanders off up the stairs. He never cared enough to say much.
“What, they can’t be here when they’re future daughter-in-law’s parents come to see their granddaughter.”
“We didn’t - he just wanted to show them around. It’s not an insult to you,” I say taking Ramona back and sitting on one of the plastic lawn chairs. My mother eyes the chairs with disgust and seats herself on the couch, surveying the room. A brief period of silence follows while I try and think of something to say. My mother beats me to it.
“Now that the baby’s born, is he going to get a real job?”
I close my eyes to keep from chucking something at her.
“He has a real job, mom,” I say with a fake smile on my face. I hear the front door open and a weird mix of relief and anxiety flashes over me. Tre and his family walk into the room. I feel obligated to introduce them. Blah.
“Tre’s family, this is my mother. My father’s around here somewhere.”
My mother puts on one of her faces and greets them politely, but I can tell she’s nitpicking things about them about them and storing them away to report to them later.
After introductions, Tre’s family settles down and I’m forced to move to the couch next to my mother. Friendly chatter commences. It seems all is going fine until my mother drops the bomb.
“So, when’s the wedding going to be?”
The room goes silent. Even Ramona stares at me like,
‘Yeah, when’s it gonna be?’
I glance at Tre, who’s staring back at me with his ‘I don’t know what to do!’ face on. I take a shaky breath.
“Well, we haven’t really talked about it.”
Tre’s face relaxes and my mother huffs out her breath.
“I find this unacceptable,” she says. I can’t believe she’s doing this. I mean, okay, yeah, I totally can believe she’s doing this, but I thought maybe since I gave birth a couple of days ago, she’d go easy on me. I can feel my face burning with a mixture of embarrassment and rage. I really want that letter opener.
“Why is that unacceptable?” Tre’s mom steps in.
“Because if your sons had been responsible, he would have married her when she found out she was with child.”
“That’s not fair,” his mom says. Tre and his dad are slowly edging away into the kitchen. I wish I could sink down in the couch and never be seen again.
“Mom, stop!” I say handing off Ramona to Tre who bolts off into the kitchen with her and his dad close at his heels. “You are being unfair. Tre’s not the only one to blame. Frankly, I think there’s no one to blame. This isn’t a bad situation.”
She starts to interrupt, but I stop her.
“No, let me finish for once! Did you ever think that maybe I was the one who didn’t want to get married right away? Stop blaming everything on everyone. I only invited you to see the baby, not to come here and ridicule and critique and look down on everything I do.”
She stares at me with anger behind her eyes. MY father’s heard me yelling and pokes his head around the corner to see what I’ve done now.
“You know what Lisea? You were never a child I could be proud of.”
“I don’t care what you think of me. I never have. I don’t care, okay?”
“Well,” she says, gathering her poise and getting off the couch. “We don’t need to be here if we’re going to be insulted.”
“Fine!” I snap, turning my back on her. I hear her huff out her breath again and storm off out the front door.
Tre sticks his head out from behind the wall leading to the kitchen. I look at him and run to the window to see if she’s really leaving. Tre and his parents join me at the window. I can see my mother yammering in rage to my father as they get into the car and drive off. Tre laughs quietly and presses his middle finger against the glass.
“Tre!” his mom warns him in a hushed voice.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, not being able to hide the grin on his face.