THE BOX

“Have you finished satisfying your morbid curiosity, yet?”

Thanks, Mom, nice to hear from you, too.

Was what I wanted to say.

But I’d been trying to control my snark a little more since I’d finished Granny’s notebooks.  I wasn’t sure if it counted that I still thought it, though.

“I’m not sure — ”

“I know you’ve been reading some of my mother’s old notebooks.”

There was only one person I knew that could have and would have let that juicy tidbit not accidentally slip from her always freshly glossed lips.

“You’ve been talking to Ashley.”

“Well, at least your cousin cares enough to let me know what’s going on.”

Yeah, especially when it’s what’s going on in everyone else’s lives.

Again I wasn’t sure if keeping it contained in my head and not spewing out from my lips counted in my favor or not.

“I finished her last notebook yesterday, as a matter of fact.”

I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible while silently berating myself for having mentioned the notebooks to my cousin in the first place.

“I still don’t know why you didn’t just throw all those boxes out.  You have precious little space as it is without her nonsense cluttering up your life.”

“Are you talking about my apartment or…?”

“I didn’t call so you could practice your comedy routine.”

“So why did you call?”

“I found another box.”

There were days when I was willing to play my mother’s game and there were days…like today.  I just kept my mouth shut and waited.

“Do you want it or not?”

“That would depend entirely on the contents of said box.”

“More nonsense, I’m sure.”

I bit my tongue.  I knew she was baiting me.  Was it worth it?  I decided not.

“I’ll take it.”

Silence.

“Well.  Fine, then.  You can pick it up tomorrow.”

“Okay, thank you.  Was there anything else?”

“I—whatever.  I’ll be out when you come.  Just use your key.”

Nevermind that she had no idea when I was coming.  No surprise, though.  And not entirely unwelcome, truth be told.  At least I wouldn’t have to expend the enormous amount of energy it took to keep swallowing my snark.

After I agreed to pick up the box, I started having upwards of seventh thoughts.

Am I really up to reading more about God and Jesus and the Bible?

I sighed for dramatic effect.

(It’s the little things you do when you live alone…that make you question your sanity at times…)

I’d thought quite a bit about the things Granny had written in her notebooks.

Okay, I’d thought quite A LOT about them.  And about her.  Such a mind that woman had.  A mind I really wish I had taken the time to know when she was alive.

That was why you decided to keep reading the notebooks in the first place.

It was.  My desire hadn’t changed.  If anything, it had grown stronger.

I sighed again, this time genuinely.

It meant a trip to my mother’s house but at least I had the comfort of knowing I could dart in, grab the box, and make my escape without any undue harassment.

What is that saying?  The best laid plans…

I purposely waited a few days in the hope that any residual irritation had worn off before I made the trip.  Which, you know, was a pipe dream but one I’d been clinging to for, well, pretty much my entire life.

The second my key turned the deadbolt on my mother’s front door, my heart sank and my ire rose.

“Don’t you ever knock?  Who raised you, anyway?”

It was not a rhetorical question.

I winced and finished entering her house, debating for a split second on turning tail and running away.

“Um, I do when necessary, and well, that would be you.”

She was sitting at the kitchen table playing solitaire.  She didn’t even deign to glance in my direction, which made her next statement rather ironic.

“Oh, so you’re saying I didn’t teach you courtesy?”

I did what I’d learned so well over the years to do — I composed my face and modulated my voice while screaming like a lunatic in my head.

“You told me you wouldn’t be home when I dropped by and I didn’t see your car in the carport, so I thought — “

“Ever heard of getting your car worked on?”

It was one of those days with her.  When no matter what I said, she would find a way to turn it into a biting, condescending remark intended to do maximum damage.

“Pass,” I whispered to myself.

“Pass?  What do you mean ‘pass’?”

I swear the woman had bionic ears.  When she wanted to, anyway.

“I just came to pick up the box of granny’s stuff.  Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

I knew the phrase was a mistake the second it left my lips and I braced myself for the obligatory retort.

Instead I got arctic silence and an inscrutable stare.  After I’d died a few deaths in the year I stood there trapped by her eyes, a curt, “In the den,” and she was back to her cards.

I actually gave myself a little shake as I was released from — whatever that was.

My legs felt like she’d somehow managed to remove every bone with the laser beams coming out of her face and I truly do not know how I made it to the den, much less picked up the box which was not insubstantial.

It was all I could do to keep moving towards the door and I mumbled something like, “Thanksseeyalater” and somehow made it to my car without melting into the puddle of pudding I felt like.  Once the box was safely ensconced in my vehicle, I did a quick return trip to the door after remembering I had forgotten to lock it in my haste to flee.

The drive back to my apartment was somewhat of a blur.  Safety tip — not a great idea to drive when your brain has been replaced by scrambled eggs.

I managed to lug the box into my apartment and flopped on the couch.

Man, Granny, this better be worth it.