Mari

“Mari, honey stop glaring at your mom.”

I keep staring at the evil that is my mother despite Char’s admonishments and try as hard as humanly possible not to set the red weeds that is her hair aflame with a look alone.

Here’s the thing, I am not a happy camper. Instead of living in what my friends keep referring to as the honeymoon phase I have to deal with my husband falling into bed every night, exhausted and spent.

We hardly spend any real time together and what time he does have is taken up by this red hurricane! Never, ever wanted to murder my own mother-

Okay, that’s not true! I’ve planned the scenarios out so many times I’m almost positive I could kill her bloodlessly and leave no evidence! At this point I’m sold on Lizzie’s rock cakes-no cop who looks at those things would believe they couldn’t kill.

And the good old stairs. Just one push. One. Push. And I can justify it because she’s been tippling in the laundry box stash again and no one would question a black out. Man, I was so mad at her earlier when she was yelling at me at the top of the stairs I was this close…

“Mari! For God sakes! It’s mandatory and besides, he likes those things,” Ma says, shaking her head and throwing Char a look.

Like I care that Char has been infected by the pure evil that is Ro Byrd! I don’t. They can both roast in hell-or dance as the case may be-at this point and I told them so. My problem? I have no job, I have to spend at least the next four weeks with these two old bats! Designing stuff. For a hotel that Gray is depending on.

Christ, I see the seventies coming on with ma in charge and it wouldn’t be the semi acceptable trends of that decade. Ma likes olive. Brown. Mustard. Brimstone.

Her colour pallet is restricted to torture just like her personality. And Char’s encouraging it! If I didn’t love her that homicide scenario I keep thinking about would a double. Two dead old birds and an alibi would make my freaking month at this point.

“I don’t hardly survive the family’s yearly get together and I’ve been inoculated against extra-terrestrial!” I yell. “He already met Sweet Pete and his kennel, ma! What more do you want? You want me shamed by divorce ma? Is that what you want because I gotta tell ya, if these grandbabies you are all after don’t have a dad, you will be raising them. I’ll move to Guatemala and live off the fleas in my hobo hair!”

Ma huffs and sucks at her teeth while Char just smiles.

“We’re all going! It’ll be fun. I can enjoy some sparring-”

“Char, my family doesn’t spar. They don’t understand sparring! We all just survive each other until the next year rolls around. And plus half the time they just find whatever you all say funny. And then keep doing whatever it is they do,” I whine, feeling sorry for myself.

The thing about my family-

“And Lizzie loves Gray Mari.” Ma says, starting up a conversation with Char about the colour scheme, as if she understands anything other than the diarrhoea standard in our house.

Wait!

“Lizzie! Lizzie and the Egan’s are coming?” I wail, feeling my entire life just stop.

I can move. Yeah, you can move Mari. To Poland. Ice land. Antarctica. Somewhere cold. Somewhere the evil can’t survive!

“Maaaaa.”

Ma just sniffs but I see the twinkle in her eye and feel my entire existence boil down to torture. I’m twenty five years old, surely there should come one day when my life isn’t about fighting off the need to self-medicate.

“Lizzie is family, Mari. The Egan’s and the George’s are family. Therefore when we have the yearly gathering we invite family.”

“Gathering! You call that a gathering. That much wrong in one place is called a coven and will for sure open the portal to hell,” I yell, just as Char pulls up to the hotel site and turns off the car.

The crone is laughing at me, that belly shaking kind of amusement that makes my lips suck in with the need to yell. And then I notice ma’s lips and I for sure see myself sporting orange with a big beefy lesbian eating half my food while guards ignore my suffering.

It’ll be a vacation, a spa getaway, I think, fighting the need to pull my hair out.

Just then my door opens and I’m swept up into strong arms and that scent that makes my world feel right.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“They’re not right, Gray. Not human. I think their generation is mutated from radiation poisoning.” I mumble, ignoring his laughter. “It’s not funny. They’re talking about family gatherings.”

“Aw Mari, it won’t be that bad, maybe Mitch’ll go in his skins this time-”

“Not funny! Are you trying to tempt fate?” I yell, shoving away with a huff. “He’d do it.”

“I know. That’s what makes it so damn hilarious, Mari.”

Maybe divorce shame won’t be so bad, I think, narrowing my eyes at Gray with a scowl. Maybe I could seriously just disappear one day and go live somewhere where crazy doesn’t exist.

“Calm down. Now don’t look at me that way, Mari, I’m just kidding,” Gray groans while backing away.

“You’d better hope those babies are spectacular, Grayson George, or there will be hell to pay.”

********************************************************************

“Help me.” I whisper into the phone just as Char and ma start cooing over fabric samples I broke my back getting up here.

If my ovaries survived that I’m pretty sure they can survive Armageddon.

“Mari?” Ing asks, clearly confused and a little alarmed.

I’m hiding behind a workbench, terrified for my life and sanity as they continue to speak in tongues, a language no true human can understand.

“Help me Ing. Please. I think I’m starting to get infected! Ma showed me a brown fabric swatch and I think I liked it.” I hiss cry, swallowing the horror back with an effort.

They’re crazy, nuts, more than wrong I think as simultaneously they both lift their heads and look around. Ma sniffs, as if smelling the air and Char narrows her eyes. Like demon dogs searching for prey.

“Mari!”

“Oh God, did you hear that? They’re looking for me Ingram. And they’ll find me.” I whisper, ducking down lower.

It’s been three hours, threeeee! Hours. Of non-stop fabric, laughing and what I can only describe as mania. Char is a decorating genius, I won’t lie, but together with mother evil, I’ve been nothing but a work horse and guinea pig. They’re driving me nuts and the worst part is that about twenty minutes ago I started seeing where they were going with their colour scheme.

I think they’ve turned me. Soon, all too soon I’m going to be frothing at the mouth and eating innocents for dinner. Can’t. Let. The. Madness. Take. Root.

“Mari, chill out, boo. What’s up?”

She sounds amused, calm and oh so unconcerned about my continued survival! Any minute now they’ll catch my scent and probably start eating me. Alive. A human sacrifice to whatever the heck those two are.

I can’t believe Char has turned out to be exactly like my ma. Worse! If you count the fact that they both laughed their asses off when I tripped and almost killed myself on the stairs.

I showed ass, maybe some pube regrowth when I sprawled. And they laughed. Having your mother in law lecture you about keeping the area attractive was horrifying.

Worse was when ma started rhapsodizing about papa’s favorite design. Apparently old Mitch likes a nice fluffy heart on his morning meat taco. Ewww. I refuse to believe she even has pubes what with her not actually owning bits. Think Barbie thoughts Mari, it’s the only way to keep your mind intact.

“Gray and Blay asked ma and Char to help out with some designing for the hotel before they lose the entire project and, and ma said yes which means I have to tag along. They’re not right together those two,” I whimper, peeking over the workbench with a cringe.

“Oh come on. It can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah? They spent almost an hour over tea discussing my ovaries! My ovaries. Ma kept saying they’re dry if I’m not knocked up by a virile hunk like Gray and Char asked me about my flow. It was gross. It was horrible and then ma commented about my sheets not being all…funky with sex liquids! And they made fun of me, Ing. My ma, a woman whose vagina coughs dust! Made fun of me.”

I should know Ing by now so it chaps my ass when she starts laughing and I am actually surprised.

“You think this is funny?”

She chokes and snorts a little and I have visions of blood baths and a long trial.

“Yeah. Remember when Ro two told Chris Gotti that my discharge wasn’t that green anymore, and you laughed?”

“But, Ing! It was hilarious. And anyway I warned you not to let your ma catch you with a boy. You know how diabolical they are Ing,” I whine, stifling a chortle at the remembered look on her face when people started calling her Hulk snatch.

What! I had every right to laugh at the fact that her ma told everyone that her vagina was oozing green goo. That shit was just funny.

“Bitch! That was not my fault. He took one look at you after Ro got hold of him and started crying when you tried to go near him. His ma told the neighbourhood he soaked his balls in windowlene for an entire day. And then she had to take him to the emergency room when they swelled up.”

Who wouldn’t have laughed? Anyway, it served Ing right for playing sausage tacos with the boy I had a crush on. His ma says his nuts still aren’t right and Aunt Roberta just says she saved the world from anything that was produced by those nuts. And Ingram’s angry uterus.

Christ. Our mothers really are evil.

“Mari, it can’t be that bad.”

“It is! I had to go into the bathroom with ma earlier because you know she can’t go in a strange place. It was bad Ing. Brimstone. Corpses and the souls of innocents. My eyes still won’t focus right after marinating in that stink.” I whine.

I can still smell it and that’s saying something because I don’t think my nose will ever work right again. And God help me, I will never make cabbage again. That vegetable is henceforth dead to me. Just like my sinuses and eyesight.

“Mari, just chillax. It’s hard for you because you refuse to try to have fun.”

“With them?” I ask, afraid for my life.

“Yeah with them. Come on. They’re both funny. They enjoy giving people shit like you do and…hang on.” She mutes the phone and when she comes back on I hear two bitches yipping.

“Don’t listen to her Mari! Once they suck you in you can’t ever leave. It’s like a cult Mari. Mama tried to pull me in too but I fear for my baby so I ran.”

I feel a bubble of laughter sprout when Ginny comes over the phone, her voice hushed and conspiratorial, almost as if she’s too afraid to speak about Lizzie in the event she just appears in a cloud of smoke and fire.

“They showed me colour samples for couches Ginny. They were cream Gin, cream. And I said I liked them.” I whine.

“Pfft! Stop complaining! At least your mom hasn’t taken an ad out in the classifieds,” Ing yells, her voice shrill. “Russell found it, freaking Russel, and you know how that man enjoys tormenting me, Mari.”

“Huh?”

I’m totally lost and have to wait what feels like an eternity while Ingram and Ginny tussle over the call, their shrieks and language so vile I hold a hand over the speaker and throw peeks over the workbench, just in case the sniffer dogs have caught my trail.

“Hey!”

Rox finally gets them to calm down and I find out the reason Ingram’s not as interested in my dilemma right now. Usually she’d be on this, tickled pink at the opportunity to either give me hell or torment mama with her remarks, that’s just the way Ing is, but not today…

“She advertised! For a husband Mari. I’ve had twenty seven calls so far, from one guy asking me if I’m into ‘play’ and another wanting to know if I’m still fertile. Me. Mari. Fertile. To have little snot factories,” she wails, making me bite my lip to stave off a laugh.

“Ing-”

“I had to sit through family dinner last night while she yelled at me about dry ovaries and the evolutionary need to procreate. It’s so bad she had my brothers offering to introduce me to some of their friends. You’ve met them, Mari.” she whimpers. “They think polyester is high end, Mari!”

I shouldn’t laugh. Or tease, but this opportunity is so fortuitous I can’t help myself. I’ll have to give some real thought to consideration and kindness later. I’ve never had that particular trait so research may be in order.

“She knows big words Ing? Procreate? My ma thinks procreate is an advertisement for anti pro-choice movements.”

“Shut up! She put my home, office and cell number on that classified ad Mari. My boss recognised it and asked me if I need a donation of the biological variety,” she yells.

Ginny starts laughing so hard I hear her choke and Rox is probably trying to be silent but the air wheezes are loud enough to hit the phone and join in with my own unadulterated glee.

“Mr. Flemming?”

“He greases his hair with lard! Stop laughing it’s not funny. And It’s true. Yesterday he sauntered by my desk and twitched his fat ass at me. I’d have lost it if not for the fact that he wasn’t looking where he was going and walked into his office door.”

Ew to the gross, I think, picturing the middle aged Flemming sauntering. The man looks like his mom, the hippo copulated with a mammoth. Imagining Ing spitting out those babies is so good I can’t help the nasty enjoyment I feel.

“I’m sorry, but my problems are a lot worse than yours right now Ingram. I actually have a husband already but at the rate these people are going I’ll be living at Oakbay making a meal of the white foam in my mouth! I can’t…the family reunion is in two weeks, Ingram. And she’s invited the George’s and the Egan’s and, and Joe is coming too, Ing. Ma, she says it’s always good to have a back up,” I whine.

And it may just be a good idea to have a second on the line because after that rat bastard husband of mine abandoned me to ma and his crazy mother this morning, well, his good looks can only carry him so far.

The silence on the other end is eerie and I feel my blood turn cold.

“Well, my week is looking up. Tell me, Mari, has he met Cloris and her brood yet?”

I can still hear their cackling laughter as I end the call on a hissed screech, my eye ticking furiously.

“Oh there you are Mari!” ma barks from behind me, making me scream my head off. “What’s wrong with you girl? Never mind! I think that corn we ate last night did me wrong Mari. Come along girl, I need to warm the porcelain again.”

I swear I see one of her devil’s eyes twinkle as I rise with a whimper and follow her into what I have aptly named ‘the bowels of hell’.