Please Tell Me

by Mike Omer

Sometimes, when you’re scared, the only thing that helps is a hug.

As always, she wanted Laura to know that in the playroom, she was in complete control. That feeling of control and power was crucial for her healing process.

This was a big part of what Robin’s playroom was for. Adults could talk about difficult and painful events, processing them through conversation. But young kids weren’t as verbal.

We’re trying a new thing. It’s called sacred-Tuesday-for-Mommy-or-we-get-divorced.”

Tranquility and Mom could not coexist.

“Not everything I want to discuss is about you or about your broken marriage, Robin.”

Some parents are hell.

With the phone already unlocked in her hand, her fingers developed a mind of their own. Because the Facebook icon had that tantalizing notification mark on the corner. Tap.

I think most of us know this life smh.

But she was in Facebook now, and her finger knew what that meant. Scrolling.

It always confused her when people stampeded their way to social media to share their feelings.

And now she found yet again that she was the odd duck, for sharing her thoughts by the ancient art of speaking, talking to her friends about it. Instead of posting it on social media for all her 856 friends to see, including the guy who had installed her new sink and a bunch of people from college with whom she hadn’t talked for years.

Real.

She glanced at the time, and it was 2:52. What the hell? Why was she even on her phone?

Been there lol.

This was another thing the pandemic had killed, along with millions of people. It had killed spontaneity.

Two options. Leaving the power to choose in Kathy’s hands but removing the choice paralysis that came with too many options.

I, too, experience choice paralysis when I’m overwhelmed with options.

She did her best to avoid any screens two hours before bed. Her brain would interpret the glare from the screen as something akin to daylight, which would make it all the more difficult to sleep.

This was the constant argument she and Pete had been engaged in for the past two weeks. Pete said that the only reason that Kathy refused to leave Claire’s side was because Claire let her. He wanted to send Kathy to school. “Let the teachers handle her if she acts up,” he’d said. As if Kathy’s panic was just an annoying tantrum.

Bruh. Throw Pete away.

Kids shouldn’t serve as glue to keep their parents together.

‼️

As a therapist, she knew very well how deceptive memories could be.

Her cart had three working wheels and one that was a free spirit who wanted to escape and tour the world.

Mom would instantly dislike him, partly because he was a cop, partly because he didn’t dress immaculately, and partly, if Robin had to be honest, because he was African American, and her mother had a subtle racist streak.

No surprise there.

She was already sobbing. “Do you hate me that much? After all I’ve done for you? I gave my life for both of you. And now both my daughters won’t visit me, even though we live in the same town.”

🙄🙄🙄

“I wish your father was alive. Then I wouldn’t feel so lonely. And you and your sister would come to see him. You always loved him more, even though I was the one who raised you both.”

Narcissist with all caps.

A teenage boy was lying on a bed asleep, a small TV on his chest. Suddenly a gloved hand emerged from the mattress, grabbing him, pulling him into the bed.

An all time favorite lol.

“Evan knows the owner, so he organized this for us. It was his idea that we come here this evening.”

I bet it was Evan's idea.

She was still figuring out who she was. Maybe, in time, she could learn to like this man, the one that another Claire had chosen to marry. But she doubted she could ever love him.

“Family’s sometimes like that. Whatever there is between us and them . . . they’re still family, right?”

Ehhhh…

“This generation of kids were the ones hurt the most by the pandemic. They’ll be carrying the remnants of it for the rest of their lives.”