One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

She knows. I can feel it. She’s called ten times in the last three days. A sixth sense.

I’ve been avoiding her. Not because I don’t want to talk to her, I do. I can’t wait to tell her about the new boy, his blond hair, his dimples. But I haven’t, not yet. I need to be sure. I don’t want her to get all excited only to be crushed again.

It took me a year to tell her I had broken up with Seth. Figured it was safe. I underestimated Mother Nature.

It was during one of her visits when I finally told her Seth and I were no longer together. We were out one night, at a West Village café. I told her everything. I told her how after we finally broke up, I drove home so heartbroken I couldn’t cry the entire way back, a four-hour ride. I told her how when I finally got home, something inside me just went off, how I grabbed a box, and in a frenzy that could only be described as psychotic, threw everything that reminded me of him in it. Pictures still in their frames, birthday cards, gifts, a book he’d recommended, dozens of love notes, everything, and shoved it in a dark closet.

Then as soon as I calmed down, tears. Like floodwater, uncontrollable, unstoppable, unmerciful.

I had to be at work that afternoon, but that sob, it would not stop. I called Joe.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t stop crying. I have to be at work in an hour, and I can’t stop crying.”
“Oh baby, you’re not going to work today,” he said, in his calm sweet voice. “What’s your boss’ number?”

I was tired of fighting. For the first time, I let go, hoping Joe would catch me mid-fall.

“Stay by the phone, I’ll call you right back,” he said right before the sound of the tone.

Five minutes, a quarter of an hour, a lifetime, then a ring.

“I called her. She’s on her way.”
“What?”
“Your boss, she’s on her way over. She said it’ll be about ten minutes. Can you hang in there?”

I hung up the phone and sat on the couch. Crying, arms holding my shoulders, my body moving slowly, forward then back, a crazy person. I remember thinking to myself, Wow, you’re finally losing it. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Out to lunch.

Kept telling myself to pull it together, stop rocking, but the constant movement was somehow soothing. And in that second, that insane moment, a foreign thought in my head, I want my mommy. A baby.

I love my mom but I’ve never needed her. I speak to her twice a month on the phone and that’s enough. I see her once a year, more than enough. But at breakpoint, she was the one who came to mind. Mammals whether we like it or not.

My boss arrived. Walked through the door, took one look at me and said, “Oh sweetheart. I know where you are, I’ve been there so many times.” And then, just like that, she hugged me. Not quite a mother’s embrace, still, it was comforting.

She sat with me for three hours, recounting her horror stories about love.
“I can’t tell you it’s going to be easy,” she said. “It won’t. But it will get better, I promise. The only thing I can tell you is you have to put one foot in front of the other. I know even that seems impossible right now, but trust me, one day you’ll be able to take a step without thinking about it.”

I looked at her. A lady. A moment. A bond.

I finish my story. My mother gets up. She runs out the restaurant, sobbing, not a small sob, a big one, primal. Her child, comforted by a stranger.

“Are you okay?” I asked. I should have never told her the story. I thought it was safe.

“You can’t imagine what that's like,” she said to me after she finally calmed down, “knowing one of your children is hurting and you can’t put your arms around him, give him your love, because you don't even know he's in pain.”

It took me months to finally tell her I broke up with John.

“How are you?” She asked, her voice filled with worry. “Do you want me to come over?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Are you sure?”

Then my dad got on the line, “Just say the word, I’m sending her.”

My dad. His son gets dumped by another man and he offers my mom and a plane ticket.

A smile. My parents. My unbelievable luck.

Comments

[Greg]

Damn, now you've got ME crying. Any chance your folks would consider adoption?

[Roy]

awwwwwww..you have such great parents!

[ray]

Your essay/blog is one the first things I turn to every day, and every day I am reminded of how truly amazing, exciting, scary and rewarding it is to merely live life. Thank you for sharing.

[Michelangelo]

I have a very supportive mother. It was not always so. For the first couple of years, she referred to my partner as "that man you live with". She came around slowly...but once she did she embraced him fully. It has been 30 years, she considers him family. They have developed a strong bond based on mutual respect and love.

[Kim]

There are times when I would like to be able to cry like that. Unfortunately I can't, I've tried every thing from watching movies to thinking of death. But movies are fantasy to me and death is just a process we go thru and not an end.
I never had the luxury of having understandable parents, I've always had to do for myself.
So anyone who ever said that liitle boy's shouldn't cry were wrong and anyone who said that men don't cry are really wrong. So cry, then someday maybe I will. And people won't think I'm cold hearted litle Biotch. HRH♦P.K.

[aussie gav]

I had a similar situation with my Mum. Broke up with my b'friend of 4 years and didnt cry much, but spoke to my Mum and couldnt stop bawling. She said to me later when I hung up she threw herself on her bed and cried for an hour because she wasnt able to hold me. She is a wonderful woman, sounds like you have got one too.

[ryan]

your lucky, if that happened to me my mom would probably say something like "serves you right for being gay *insert lecture here*".

[Kim]

Thanks for the comment! I'm feeling much better today, but I still look hideous. hope things are going well with you.

HRH♦P.K.