Trust Me Dear
“Is she short?”
“What?”
“Your girlfriend, is she short?”
“No…. Why would that matter?”
“You shouldn’t be dating runts.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You shouldn’t. You deserve better than some little runt girl with a caved in chest.”
“She’s not a runt, ok?”
“Good”
“I still don’t see why this matters.”
“Trust me dear.”
There was a phrase that I heard too much. “Trust me dear.” Somehow all of my conversations with my mother ended that way. She’d say trust me dear and I would roll my eyes when I had turned away from her. Unfortunately this time I was standing in front of a mirror.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”
“Umm, no”
“Yes you did. I saw you roll them in the mirror.”
“I was looking at the ceiling.”
“Now you’re lying…. There you rolled them again.”
“I guess I can’t help it.”
“You should be nicer to me. I’m-“
“My mother. I know.”
“Sometimes I think you don’t remember.”
“Do we have to have this conversation again? Angie’s going to be here in 15 minutes.”
“She’s picking you up? Chivalry is dead.”
“Angie likes to drive.”
“No one likes to drive. She’s only doing it because you didn’t offer.” I knew exactly what she was going to say next. “Trust me dear.”
She managed to say it twice in less than ten minutes. There’s no way that “Trust me dear” automatically makes her correct. I was thoroughly aggravated. It was her turn to walk away. She went down the hall and into her bedroom. I went into the bathroom to shave. Mom had prevented me from doing this earlier so I had to rush.
I’ve found that there are two things you should never rush when shaving. You always cut yourself in the process.
“Damn it!” Mom heard me and voiced her concerns.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I just cut my chin shaving.”
“If you were nicer to me that wouldn’t have happen.”
“I don’t see the connection between you and my razor.”
“Karma dear. It’s ok I’m sure Angie will think the toilet paper on your face is cute.”
“Yeah right.”
I didn’t want to get in Angie’s car with a piece of toilet paper stuck to my face, so I got creative. I tried to dry the blood faster by using my mother’s blow dryer. All I succeed in doing was to blow the paper off of my face and give my hair a bouncy wind blown look. My mom would try to fix my hair later, probably in front of Angie. Moms are always ready and willing to embarrass their kids. I think they trade tricks to drive kids nuts like recipes. How else can you
explain the extraordinary numbers of moms that will spit on a napkin and clean off their kid’s face in public?
I finished getting ready and went downstairs to wait. I didn’t notice that mom had gone down earlier. She was sitting in the living room with the newspaper and a cup of coffee.
“I’m going in a few minutes.”
“All right… So are you going to touch her?”
“MOM!” That was not something that I wanted to hear from my mother.
“I don’t mean grope her. I mean hold her hand or put your arm around her.”
“Probably not.”
“Why not?”
“She’s just a friend mom.”
“Well that’s all she’s ever going to be if you don’t start.”
“Start what?”
“Treating her like some one you want to be with. Hold her hand, open doors and pull out her chair.”
“I know all that.”
“Sometimes girls like to be treated like girls. Trust me dear.”
“Why do you always say that?”
“Say what?”
“Trust me dear.’
“Because you should. No one ever told me things like this when I was your age.”
“You were lucky then.”
“I’m only trying to help.”
“Did you ever think that I didn’t want you to help?”
She didn’t respond. For a long time she just looked at me. Eventually she took a sip of her coffee and said.
“I’m your mother. I’m going to give you advice whether you want it or not.”
She picked up her newspaper and started to read. I sat down on the couch and searched for change in between the cushions while I waited for Angie. By the time she arrived, I had found two dollars in quarters and a pair of my dad’s glasses. I had just found the glasses when Angie knocked.
“She’s here”
“Thanks Mom.” I was already at the door when she said it.
“So let her in.” I did.
“Hi Angie.”
“Hello Mike”
“Ok Mom I’m going.”
She glanced up from her Newspaper. “Are you going to introduce me?”
“Oh right. Angie this is my mom.”
“Hello Mike’s mom.”
Mom got up from her chair and walked over to meet Angie. She adjusted my hair on the way by.
“It’s nice to meet you. Feel free to fix his hair when ever you think it needs it.”
Angie smiled. “I’ll do that. Are you ready to go Mike?”
“Yep”
We left my house and drove to the movie theatre. We were a little late so the only parking spaces were what seemed like miles away from the door. I tried to start a conversation.
“Maybe we should have parked back at my house. It would have been a shorter walk.”
“Yeah and I wouldn’t have had to drive as far.”
“I thought you liked driving.”
“I don’t mind it but it’s not my favorite thing in the world. I offered because it seemed like you didn’t want to.”
“I’ll drive next time.”
“Deal.”
I reached over and grabbed her hand. I hate it when my mom’s right.