Greater Expectations (4 page)

6

Motherly Love

Saturday 10th January

As a man, I like to think that I am completely independent and need nothing nor nobody. I am sure that every man does. Yet we are not always just men. We are husbands, brothers, uncles, fathers, and grandfathers. We endeavour to be equally independent in each of these roles. Sometimes interdependent but always independent. However, it’s only as a son, that we can never and are never completely independent. Certainly, I know that I will always need my mum
. Not my mother. My mum.

I have enough worldly wisdom to know the difference.

I heard tale once of a truck driver who was a friend of a friend. He had just returned from Europe and was clearing HM Customs at the Port of Dover when he was questioned about his passport. The Passport Control Officer was apparently quite young and looked somewhat inexperienced and had challenged the driver as his passport stated that his hometown was “Scotland” and that his home country was “Scotland”. Quite understandably, the young officer suspected the passport to be fraudulent and relayed this concern to the driver. Under normal circumstances, such authorities demand the utmost respect. As such the driver’s response was not at all what he expected.

“Are you a fucking idiot? You are obviously straight from the training centre. Get someone with real authority down here now to save us both from further embarrassment. You fucking knob.”

The officer, taking none to kindly to the response, demanded an immediate apology and went through the motions of cautioning the driver to mind his manners and to respect his authority. Again, he was met with a similar response although, this time, it was said with such anger and volume that it attracted the attention of the officer’s superior.

The superior, in response to his enquiry of what was going on, was shown the passport and told of the young officer’s suspicions. He agreed entirely with the younger officers suspicions and advised the driver to park up his vehicle and surrender himself into custody. He too was branded a
“fucking idiot”
and the driver refused to move until someone with real authority came to the booth to remedy the situation.

As tensions rose, the on duty head of the Passport Control Office was called. She duly appeared and was informed of the proceedings and
the young officer’s assertion–he had seemingly taken confidence from his immediate superior and replaced it with arrogance–that the passport was definitely fake. She promptly ordered both her underlings to return the passport to the driver and that they should both issue unreserved apologies for the embarrassment caused to him. She also asked the driver if he wished to report the incident. The two officers were completely perplexed although they begrudgingly apologised as instructed and the driver was allowed to leave the port.

After the driver had gone, the more senior of the two officers was fuming at being so openly undermined in front of both the driver and the young officer and demanded an explanation. His superior officer waited a moment in the vain hope that he would eventually understand. Seeing that he was so arrogantly convinced he was right, she savoured t
he moment a few seconds longer.

Then she patiently explained.

“There is only one instance on a passport when the ‘city of birth’ can be entered as the same as the ‘country of birth’. That is because giving the precise city, in accordance with the correct date of birth, allows for adopted children to trace their real parents. You should have known that. You are both arrogant
and
ignorant.” She paused for effect, then continued. “However, most of all, the driver was right on two counts. You did embarrass yourselves and him.”

As she turned to walk away, the reprimanded officer couldn’t help but try and save face. He was a mid level career officer who had obviously fulfilled his potential. She had never liked him as he was a bully. A bully whom she had covered for numerous times in order to save the dignity and integrity of Her Majesty’s Passport Control Office that she so passionately cared for and believed in so deeply. She was waiting for it as she walked away. He didn’t disappoint.

“What else was the driver right about?”

“Pardon?” She had heard him perfectly well but knew he wouldn’t let it go. Now, halfway across the room, everyone had stopped working and all eyes were upon them. It was her chance to put him in his place once and for all.

“
You
said ‘the driver was right on two counts’ and then stated that it was merely embarrassment to both us and him. “Embarrassment’, in itself, is only one count. What was the other count that you claim the driver was right about?” He sat back smugly, wrongly believing he was the toast of the office.

“Ah yes, the other count.” She made her way out of the office and just as she got to the door, looked back over her shoulder and said loudly enough for all to hear.
“You are a fucking idiot!”
She had a smile on her face as she heard the office erupt in laughter as the door closed behind her.

So your mum is the woman who raised you, not merely the woman who gave birth to you. These are not always one and the same person. It is understandable that there are some people who have difficulty making the distinction.

Fortunately for me, my mum was also there at my birth.

7

Pugilistic Tendencies

Saturday 10th January

My mum is like every other mum. She is unique. As with every other mum, she can most often be a pain in the ass but she has always been there with full-bloodied support, even in those rarest of occasions when I am wrong. As a man, I distinctly remember the last time I was wrong. It was a Tuesday in July 1991. Okay, that was a joke.

I would never admit to being wrong so recently.

It had been over a week since the separation and so I was long overdue a call to my parents. I should have called earlier but I just didn’t want to lie or be dismissive. I didn’t want to farcically say that everything was “fine”. Especially when there would be the full on inquisition later when such deviance was finally discovered. Now seemed like it was the right time and Mum answered on the first ring. I only noticed as it was unusually quick.

“Hello son, how are
you
?” Mums cannot hide when they know you need them. Dads can, quite easily. Well, that is my experience anyway. It was immediately obvious to me that Mum knew and it caught me completely off guard. Could it be that I was actually looking forward to telling her about it myself? Dissecting every last detail? No, that wasn’t it. I could never tell her about the email. How do you tell your mum about
that
? No matter how close the mother-son bond is, there are some things that are sacrosanct. The thought of that conversation quickly played out in my head. Now I was distinctly uncomfortable and feeling my face flushing red with embarrassment and I hadn’t yet said a word. It was most peculiar. I found myself wanting to hang up without so much as a “hello”.

Definitely odd.

“Son, are you there? Are you okay?” The panic of overplaying her hand was in her voice and just confirmed to me that she definitely knew.

I took a deep breath but I was completely deflated. “Yes Mum, I’m fine. You obviously know so there’s no point pretending otherwise although I am somewhat confused as to
how
you know?”

It transpired that Gem was functioning at a far different level than me and, somewhat obviously, not for the first time. She had invoked some damage control measures that included calling my parents in a state of distress and telling them that I had walked out on her and she had no idea why. Could
they
talk to me? Could
they
reach me? She had begged them to call her if they find out anything. She was worried and all she wanted to know was that I was okay. She really wanted to make the marriage work and now I had gone and left her without any explanation. What could she do? She was prepared to do
anything
. Maybe counselling would help?

I was in a state of shock as I took this all in.
Fucking counselling?
I was utterly disgusted that she had stooped so low yet reluctantly acknowledged to myself that it was a stroke of genius, as she knew I would
never
tell them about the email. Yet, I was disgusted nonetheless. Involving my parents? That was a new low and I would never have done such a thing. Both of my parents are the types of people that worry when they have nothing to worry about. This just gave them a focus for that worry and all the stress that would incur.

“We only need to know that you are okay and if it is really over? Anything other than that is marital business and so none of ours and we have told Gemma that. I’m sorry but it was as polite as I could be under the circumstances son. We know it simply has to have been some fault or failing on her part and I’m certain you will tell us if ever we need to know. Otherwise, just know we are here for
you
, and worried about
you
.”

Curiosity got the better of me and I had to ask. “Mum, what makes you so sure that it’s her fault?”

Her answer was one only a mum can give.

“Well it stands to reason. I know
you, as you are
my
son. I gave birth to you. I have always been here for you and I have known you all of your life. You may be living away from us but you are never far from me. That’s a mum’s instinct and it may well be explained and summarily dismissed by some scientific logic or another but it’s all very real to me.” It was all true and I couldn’t explain it either. Mum also recognised that she had taken us into a conversation cul-de-sac and so quickly pressed on with a change of tack that required some input from me. She was worried. “Besides, why else would she phone us if she wasn’t the guilty party? You would have called first to ensure that we were fully prepared for such a conversation.” We both knew what she was saying was wrong but, like every good mum, she was giving me the option to save face for not calling.

That’s what mums do. Even when they know that their child is completely in the wrong, they allow them to save face. This is equally applicable in relationships. Men are stubborn and full of pride. As such, we would rather lose a perfectly good relationship than concede that we were actually in the wrong and I know because it has happened to me.

I was once in a long-term relationship with a great girl, Rebecca. We quickly hit it off and were soon inseparable. One Saturday afternoon, she had received a text message when we were together. She had started to laugh when reading it and told me that she had been contacted by an ex trying his luck. I immediately got jealous and defensive and so over reacted. On reflection, it was an over reaction in a way that was quite shameful really. Rather than taking a drive to calm down, I wanted to know everything that had been “going on”. She had tried to reassure me that there was nothing in it and he was just trying it on. I called her a liar and told her it was over. Done.

It was the last thing I wanted.

It’s true what they say, pride before the fall. She accepted what I had said and let me go. I never heard from her again. Obviously, we had even more in common than I thought. If Rebecca had given me the option of saving face then I am sure we would still be together. All I had needed was a few days to realise how stupid and futile I had been. If she were then to have sent me a text asking if I wanted to stop being a fuck up and apologise, I would have grabbed it with both hands. She didn’t and I am still saddened by the memory. Embarrassed too, actually, when I think about it as I was too stubborn to send the text myself. There is no doubt that I
was
being a complete fuck up. She should have known that. As they say, life goes on.

Her loss as they say, although it certainly didn’t and still doesn’t feel that way.

I don’t know whether it was the festering resentment from the memory of my relationship with Rebecca, or if it was my mum’s reassuring support, or it could have been my anger at the very fact that Gemma had involved my parents. Maybe a mixture of them all. Anyway, whatever the reason, I unloaded. I told my mum every single detail. Why should I be embarrassed for
her
? For
her
email? By
her
actions? It wasn’t me that Mum would consider perverted.

Well, as her son, please God let her think it’s perverted.

And disgusting.

Yes, Mum should definitely think it disgusting.

As I told her, I left her in no doubt that I thought it disgusting and perverse. Thankfully, she took my cue and wholeheartedly agreed. I am not entirely sure if I believed her or if she believed me but we both said what the other wanted to hear. That was good enough for me and I shall never contemplate this particular conversation ever again.

There was an awkward silence when I had finished. I felt drained. Again. My tender and loving mum, such a gentle soul, obviously sensed my emotional frailty. Yet something within her clicked. Something I had never witnessed before. Never even heard tale from her before. She got angry. Angry in that most natural of ways that only a mum can when protecting her child.

“Listen to me son. Don’t you
EVER
let
ANYONE
draw you down.
NEVER
. You keep your head up and roll with the punches.” I immediately recognised the boxing metaphor and understood the implication but I had never in my life seen nor heard my mum display even the slightest interest in the sport.

“Remember who
YOU
are.
YOU
are
MY
son and as long as I draw breath, I am here for
YOU
.
NEVER
forget that.

I love you. We love you. Your family loves you.
NEVER
forget that either. Unconditional love son. Unconditional.

Come home son. Give yourself a break and spend some time with your family. Those that love you. You need time to heal. Time to evaluate where you go from here.” Her offer was said almost as a challenge. Yet not so much to me as a challenge for herself to fix her boy.

I was in a state of shock. I hadn’t expected this tirade of support. I managed to pull myself together enough as to tell her of my plans for my mini break and how I needed some “me” time. She seemed to understand and accept my decision although
“you really should just come home where we can look after you and we would give you all the space you need.”
Then she let it go. She had made her point and she knew me better than to push it. However, I don’t think that she would have been so understanding if she knew Richie had invited himself along. She said her goodbyes and then I heard the line go dead.

It seems I wasn’t
to be allowed to speak to Dad…