Kallan walks down the stairs and into the room where I sit reading my book. She is all softness and contrition, her posture rounded, her arms outstretched in apology, her eyes huge and sorrowful as she meets my gaze, “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Mom. I love you. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.”
I flip a page without breaking eye contact, “What a sincere and heartfelt apology. I am all touched and overcome with emotion.”
Her eyes harden a bit, “You do not actually sound touched and overcome. I am offering you a love-filled apology here!”
“Is that what I smell? Bring the apology closer and let me sniff it.” When she doesn’t move, I lean forward and sniff at the air between us, “Hmmm . . . your apology is full of something, but it isn’t love.”
“What? This is the best apology I have to offer! This is top-of-the-line regret!”
I shake my head, “Nope. Your apology is all about wanting your phone back.”
Her reaction is swift and exaggerated and false, “You took my phone? Mom, I didn’t even know that you had taken my phone! This apology has nothing to do with my phone!”
“You know the rule – you scream at me, you lose your phone. You want me to believe that you spent the last hour sulking in your room and not once did you reach for your phone so that you might communicate with sympathetic others how heartless and unreasonable your mother is? You want me to believe you went an hour without realizing you did not have your phone?”
Kallan tightens her shoulders, draws them back, “Believe what you want. I was reading a book. I got caught up in the story and I didn’t think about my phone. I came down to apologize because it was the right thing to do. Because I shouldn’t have yelled. Because I love you.”
Maj, who is always on the edge of every conversation, sticks her head into the room, “What book?”
Kallan whirls angrily on her sister, “MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS, MAJ!”
Maj taps a thoughtful finger against her chin, “So I’m guessing there was no book. No story in which you were . . .,” and here she brings up her fingers to make air-quotes, “caught up.”
Kallan shrieks, “MAJ, STAY OUT OF THIS!”
Maj does not stay out of it, “I see that you are caught up in something, though.” Maj approaches her sister and reaches to clear what appear to be invisible cobwebs from around Kallan’s body, “Hmmm . . . what is this wovenness that tangles and catches at you, dear sister? What is it if not the fabric of a well-told story? Could it be . . . a web of . . . lies?”
Kallan turns to me, “Make her be normal! Make her be normal or make her be gone!”
I sigh, “Kallan, you were not reading. There was no book.”
Kallan crosses her arms in angry defense, “Fine, there was no book.”
I wave Maj away, “Maj, I do not need your help. Go and do your own life apart from this conversation.”
Maj pauses for a moment, considering, “Perhaps I will take this opportunity to text a few of my thoughts about school dress-code violations that have been perpetrated by a certain someone who shall remain nameless and also apparently shameless.”
Kallan wails as her sister leaves the room, “Who is she texting? What is she talking about? I dress like all my friends dress! WHO IS SHE TEXTING?”
Maj reassures her sister on her way up the stairs, “Never you mind, Kallan. The proper channels will be opened – Perhaps I can weave some of your lies into the additional fabric you need to appropriately clothe yourself.”
Kallan sinks into the couch beside me, “She is insane.”
I reach to smooth her hair, “Alright, so here’s where we stand. I accept your apology in the spirit in which it was extended.”
She looks at me suspiciously, “Does that mean I can have my phone back?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Dang it. When CAN I have it back?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow??? I need it tonight! I have my gymnastics class! I need a phone to go to gymnastics.”
“You so do not need a phone to tumble.”
“Mom, I so do. Everyone has a phone! Everyone has a phone in case of emergencies! What if I crack my head open? What if there is an emergency?”
“I assume that all of the rest of the everyones who have phones know how to call 911 on your behalf.”
“You want me to rely on other people to make a call for me? That is insane!”
“Hmmm . . . so maybe try not to crack your head open on this day that finds you phoneless.”
“Mom, what if I fall and hurt myself? For real, Mom . . . what if I fall and hurt myself?”
“Well, the last time you fell and hurt yourself, you did not call me, because, and this is a quote: It would have been too embarrassing to call and admit that I got hurt.” I shake my head, “You do see, Kallan, that a phone is not actually required to communicate stupid silent pride.”
“Hmmph.” She tries again, “Seriously, Mom. What if I need to call you?”
“Borrow someone’s phone and call me.”
“Mom, no one borrows a phone. No one does that. Do you want me to be humiliated?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“No . . . one . . . borrows . . . phones.”
“Listen, if having a phone is such a big deal, I have an amazing solution.”
“What’s that?”
“Stop yelling at me when things don’t go your way. Stop yelling at me when you are frustrated and angry, and you won’t lose your phone. It’s simple, really. I would also like to once again point out that I survived my childhood mostly intact without ever even holding a cell phone. So there is that to consi . . .”
She clenches her fists in anger and turns to interrupt me, “YOU LIVED IN THE OLDEN DAYS! YOU GREW UP WITHOUT A PHONE BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I CAN! YOU CAN’T JUST TAKE MY PHONE FOR NO GOOD REASON! PEOPLE CARRY PHONES! I NEED MY PHONE! GIVE ME BACK MY PHONE!”
“OK, yelling at me is certainly another way to go. So shall we say Wednesday?”
Kallan is startled, “Wait, Wednesday what?”
“Wednesday is when you now get your phone back.”
“YOU ARE A CRAZY PERSON! WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN TO ME WHEN I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING? I AM INNOCENT AND YOU ARE A CRAZY PERSON!”
I mime picking up a phone, “Yes, hello? Is this Thursday?”
Kallan is incredulous, “Seriously?” She takes a deep breath and tries again, “Mom, listen to me. I can’t be the girl without a phone. I just can’t.”
“But you are that girl, babe. Oops.”
“Everyone will know I don’t have a phone tonight. I’ll be humiliated.”
“Why would anyone even know? Why would the girls in your gymnastics class be trying to call or text you . . . during class?”
She sinks her head into her hands, “You don’t understand. I have to carry a phone. They will know if I am not carrying a phone.”
“Ooooh . . . I have a suggestion.”
Kallan sighs heavily, “What?”
“Fold up a sock so that it has the basic shape of a cell phone, and put it in your pocket.”
Kallan looks up, “You want me to pack a sock?”
“It’s a brilliant plan, if you ask me.”
Kallan looks at me, her eyebrows lifted, “You want me to pack a sock. In my shorts.”
“Wait, you wear those tiny booty-shorts to gymnastics, don’t you? No pockets there. OK, so you could either put the sock in your jacket pocket or you could tuck it into your underwear.”
“Seriously. You are suggesting I pack a sock in my underwear to go to gymnastics.”
“Only to keep from being humiliated.” I giggle, “Oh, please . . . pretty please . . . let me be the mother of the girl who packed a sock in her shorts.”
Kallan sighs, “So . . . about the phone . . . Thursday, then?”
“Yup. Thursday.”
Maj reappears, a few books in her arms, “Thursday is not so far away . . . Here, Kallan . . . I brought you some books to read during the downtime. You’ll hardly notice your phone is gone, so (and here she does the air-quote thing again) caught-up will you be in the stories on these pages.”
Kallan glares at her sister, “I am going to kill you.”
Maj shakes her head, “Nah, because I catch the first whiff of violence from you, I am going to call 911 and report you for what you are . . . an inappropriately dressed booty-shorts wearing homicidal maniac with a sock-bulge.” Maj reaches into her pocket and pulls out her own cell-phone, holds it out for Kallan to see, “These things are a lifesaver. You should so get one.”
Hee hee.
Top-of-the-line regret
Kallan walks down the stairs and into the room where I sit reading my book. She is all softness and contrition, her posture rounded, her arms outstretched in apology, her eyes huge and sorrowful as she meets my gaze, “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Mom. I love you. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.”
I flip a page without breaking eye contact, “What a sincere and heartfelt apology. I am all touched and overcome with emotion.”
Her eyes harden a bit, “You do not actually sound touched and overcome. I am offering you a love-filled apology here!”
“Is that what I smell? Bring the apology closer and let me sniff it.” When she doesn’t move, I lean forward and sniff at the air between us, “Hmmm . . . your apology is full of something, but it isn’t love.”
“What? This is the best apology I have to offer! This is top-of-the-line regret!”
I shake my head, “Nope. Your apology is all about wanting your phone back.”
Her reaction is swift and exaggerated and false, “You took my phone? Mom, I didn’t even know that you had taken my phone! This apology has nothing to do with my phone!”
“You know the rule – you scream at me, you lose your phone. You want me to believe that you spent the last hour sulking in your room and not once did you reach for your phone so that you might communicate with sympathetic others how heartless and unreasonable your mother is? You want me to believe you went an hour without realizing you did not have your phone?”
Kallan tightens her shoulders, draws them back, “Believe what you want. I was reading a book. I got caught up in the story and I didn’t think about my phone. I came down to apologize because it was the right thing to do. Because I shouldn’t have yelled. Because I love you.”
Maj, who is always on the edge of every conversation, sticks her head into the room, “What book?”
Kallan whirls angrily on her sister, “MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS, MAJ!”
Maj taps a thoughtful finger against her chin, “So I’m guessing there was no book. No story in which you were . . .,” and here she brings up her fingers to make air-quotes, “caught up.”
Kallan shrieks, “MAJ, STAY OUT OF THIS!”
Maj does not stay out of it, “I see that you are caught up in something, though.” Maj approaches her sister and reaches to clear what appear to be invisible cobwebs from around Kallan’s body, “Hmmm . . . what is this wovenness that tangles and catches at you, dear sister? What is it if not the fabric of a well-told story? Could it be . . . a web of . . . lies?”
Kallan turns to me, “Make her be normal! Make her be normal or make her be gone!”
I sigh, “Kallan, you were not reading. There was no book.”
Kallan crosses her arms in angry defense, “Fine, there was no book.”
I wave Maj away, “Maj, I do not need your help. Go and do your own life apart from this conversation.”
Maj pauses for a moment, considering, “Perhaps I will take this opportunity to text a few of my thoughts about school dress-code violations that have been perpetrated by a certain someone who shall remain nameless and also apparently shameless.”
Kallan wails as her sister leaves the room, “Who is she texting? What is she talking about? I dress like all my friends dress! WHO IS SHE TEXTING?”
Maj reassures her sister on her way up the stairs, “Never you mind, Kallan. The proper channels will be opened – Perhaps I can weave some of your lies into the additional fabric you need to appropriately clothe yourself.”
Kallan sinks into the couch beside me, “She is insane.”
I reach to smooth her hair, “Alright, so here’s where we stand. I accept your apology in the spirit in which it was extended.”
She looks at me suspiciously, “Does that mean I can have my phone back?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Dang it. When CAN I have it back?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow??? I need it tonight! I have my gymnastics class! I need a phone to go to gymnastics.”
“You so do not need a phone to tumble.”
“Mom, I so do. Everyone has a phone! Everyone has a phone in case of emergencies! What if I crack my head open? What if there is an emergency?”
“I assume that all of the rest of the everyones who have phones know how to call 911 on your behalf.”
“You want me to rely on other people to make a call for me? That is insane!”
“Hmmm . . . so maybe try not to crack your head open on this day that finds you phoneless.”
“Mom, what if I fall and hurt myself? For real, Mom . . . what if I fall and hurt myself?”
“Well, the last time you fell and hurt yourself, you did not call me, because, and this is a quote: It would have been too embarrassing to call and admit that I got hurt.” I shake my head, “You do see, Kallan, that a phone is not actually required to communicate stupid silent pride.”
“Hmmph.” She tries again, “Seriously, Mom. What if I need to call you?”
“Borrow someone’s phone and call me.”
“Mom, no one borrows a phone. No one does that. Do you want me to be humiliated?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“No . . . one . . . borrows . . . phones.”
“Listen, if having a phone is such a big deal, I have an amazing solution.”
“What’s that?”
“Stop yelling at me when things don’t go your way. Stop yelling at me when you are frustrated and angry, and you won’t lose your phone. It’s simple, really. I would also like to once again point out that I survived my childhood mostly intact without ever even holding a cell phone. So there is that to consi . . .”
She clenches her fists in anger and turns to interrupt me, “YOU LIVED IN THE OLDEN DAYS! YOU GREW UP WITHOUT A PHONE BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I CAN! YOU CAN’T JUST TAKE MY PHONE FOR NO GOOD REASON! PEOPLE CARRY PHONES! I NEED MY PHONE! GIVE ME BACK MY PHONE!”
“OK, yelling at me is certainly another way to go. So shall we say Wednesday?”
Kallan is startled, “Wait, Wednesday what?”
“Wednesday is when you now get your phone back.”
“YOU ARE A CRAZY PERSON! WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN TO ME WHEN I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING? I AM INNOCENT AND YOU ARE A CRAZY PERSON!”
I mime picking up a phone, “Yes, hello? Is this Thursday?”
Kallan is incredulous, “Seriously?” She takes a deep breath and tries again, “Mom, listen to me. I can’t be the girl without a phone. I just can’t.”
“But you are that girl, babe. Oops.”
“Everyone will know I don’t have a phone tonight. I’ll be humiliated.”
“Why would anyone even know? Why would the girls in your gymnastics class be trying to call or text you . . . during class?”
She sinks her head into her hands, “You don’t understand. I have to carry a phone. They will know if I am not carrying a phone.”
“Ooooh . . . I have a suggestion.”
Kallan sighs heavily, “What?”
“Fold up a sock so that it has the basic shape of a cell phone, and put it in your pocket.”
Kallan looks up, “You want me to pack a sock?”
“It’s a brilliant plan, if you ask me.”
Kallan looks at me, her eyebrows lifted, “You want me to pack a sock. In my shorts.”
“Wait, you wear those tiny booty-shorts to gymnastics, don’t you? No pockets there. OK, so you could either put the sock in your jacket pocket or you could tuck it into your underwear.”
“Seriously. You are suggesting I pack a sock in my underwear to go to gymnastics.”
“Only to keep from being humiliated.” I giggle, “Oh, please . . . pretty please . . . let me be the mother of the girl who packed a sock in her shorts.”
Kallan sighs, “So . . . about the phone . . . Thursday, then?”
“Yup. Thursday.”
Maj reappears, a few books in her arms, “Thursday is not so far away . . . Here, Kallan . . . I brought you some books to read during the downtime. You’ll hardly notice your phone is gone, so (and here she does the air-quote thing again) caught-up will you be in the stories on these pages.”
Kallan glares at her sister, “I am going to kill you.”
Maj shakes her head, “Nah, because I catch the first whiff of violence from you, I am going to call 911 and report you for what you are . . . an inappropriately dressed booty-shorts wearing homicidal maniac with a sock-bulge.” Maj reaches into her pocket and pulls out her own cell-phone, holds it out for Kallan to see, “These things are a lifesaver. You should so get one.”
Hee hee.