Javier came at 12:45
and we went to Berkeley
in the rain to see 9 Parts of Desire with
Mom. It had been almost a year since the day in March when she first met Javier, fresh from protesting with me against the war on Iraq, then in its third year, and this was a play about Iraqi women. But there was something strange about the end of the evening. She chose not to eat in Berkeley (or did we decide that?) because it was raining so hard and it would take extra time to get back to Pleasant Hill, but she didn't want to get home too early. She seemed really troubled.
. "Let's stop and call Kathy."
Was that before we had cell phones, or were all our batteries dead the way they used to be because we so rarely used them?
"By the time we stop and find a phone, we could have you home," I said.
But I could tell that it was to warn Kathy that she'd be coming home earlier than expected, and I wondered whether Kathy was having someone in and had complained that she never had the house to herself.
Candles were lit and something Kathy was making smelled really good. Mom was apologetic that she was home in time for dinner.
Javier and I returned to San Francisco, and we had a quick dinner of fresh spinach and couscous and sun-dried tomatoes while watching Ebert & Roeper. And we did other things. But I thought about Mom for a long time and wondered why she felt like an intruder that night.
No comments:
Post a Comment