Installment Fifteen

It has taken me a few days to post again. And it has not been because I've been out looking for work. Rather, I have been prostrate with hysteria (do I need quantum physics to explain that?)

My mood went nuclear after hearing the words I was dreading come out of my son's mouth:

"I've set my departure date for Beijing, Mom."

To his credit, Brian told me in person. He came up from Toronto, where he's been temporarily couch surfing while looking for work.

"That's nice, sweetheart," was all I could muster. I can only ascribe my muted response as simply a "if-I-don't-truly-acknowledge-what-he-said-it-will-all-go-away" method of avoiding unpleasant thoughts.

"Did you hear me Mom? I'm leaving next week. Dad bought me my ticket."

"I heard you Brian. What can I say? It's a done deal. You never asked for my advice and seem determined to go. I can only say bon voyage and hope for the best."

This was not what he expected to hear. Frankly, it wasn't what I expected to say. I could have ranted, cried, or vowed never to speak to him again. Any number of horrible alternative scenarios had been possible.

But this was my baby boy! The one who had hated moving so much he had vowed never ever to leave Canada again, never to travel again period for Christ’s sake!

"Can I just ask you this Brian? You really seem determined to stay put. What changed your mind?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, Mom, but you helped me make up my mind."

OMG. Now I have failed as a wife and a mother.

"Brian, I know I haven't been myself lately..."

"You misunderstand me, Mom. It's not your circumstances that helped me decide, although I'm hoping that once I'm with Dad I can help him understand what a mess he's left you in..."

"...please don’t do that sweetheart...”

"What I mean is that you are the one who helped me understand that because of my global upbringing, I really have problems sitting still. I thought I wanted to never move again, but I was wrong. I must be hard-wired that way or something...Don't cry Mom, please."

It was true. I was blubbering.

"Brian honey, the tears are temporary. Like these damn boxes!!" I shouted, throwing my arms around the room full of paper cartons.

Our conversation was interrupted by the apartment buzzer from downstairs.

"Are you expecting anyone Mom?"

Three guesses who was at the front door of my building. Bloody AFG!

"Alan," I spoke into the intercom. "This isn't the greatest time. My son is here..."

"Your son Joelly? I would love to meet him."

"Who is that Mom?"

"An old friend from high school, dear, who found me on Facebook."

"Can I come up Joelly?" the intercom piped up.

Seeing my distress and feeling my hysteria (could brains explode?), Brian stepped into the breach.

"I'll go downstairs and get rid of him Mom."

Thank God for sons. When they aren't making you cry, driving you crazy, or giving you sleepless nights, they are the greatest most precious gift in the world.

And they are particularly handy if you are being stalked.