At that moment the situation snapped into focus and I was withdrawn from the tube into epiphany: this is my family dynamic. Mom, the emotional cripple making it so difficult to help her or ignore her, though she will deny both. Dave, either unaware or unconcerned, but neither of them clearly. Jon and Ali, consciously or unconsciously, totally oblivious like emotional zombies.
And then there’s me, observing, panicking, assessing and reassessing, being pulled apart by my desire to comfort, my desire to reprimand, and my desire to detach. And so after waiting to see if Dave would respond to his wife’s silent screams and take his place next to her as comforter and supporter, I knew he would not. With disgust for everyone, for Jon and Ali for not noticing, for Mom for her inexplicable moods, for Dave for making me do his job, and for myself for doing it…again, I went to her. I went to her like I always go to her and I offered my shoulder again knowing it would be refused, but never being allowed to abandon her to herself or to them. And so I sat quietly next to her listening to the barrage of silence and the comforting rhythm of tube despising myself, despising them. Tying myself once again to that sinking ship while the rest of them studied the horizon and read magazines in lifeboats floating above us.
Clarity on the Tube
By: Tyler Betheny (View Profile)
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Comments
"Terribly depressed and saturated in self-pity," what a perfect description of my own mother! I can only imagine Europe with my family. I loved your description of the angst of growing up in the dysfunction you are so familiar with (as am I), and the bewilderment of attempting to explain it to anyone who appears remotely "normal." Keep writing, Tyler, you are a gem!
Why, oh why do trips to Europe always end in this kind of family minefield??? Those I've taken alone and especially with my family ALWAYS include some kind of disaster. I remember arriving at the flat in Paris where we were supposed to stay for a week, only to find that it had NO elevator, and no kind of air conditioning. It was HOT, and we lugged all of our bags upto what seemed like the millionth floor, only to discover that my brother and I were to share bunkbeds in a microscopic room filled with creepy dolls. Our lovely view from the window was a MALE STRIP CLUB showing the CALIFORNIA DREAM MEN. How coincidental, they must have been on our flight. After whining for about an hour, my family was convinced that a hotel was necessary. When we get to the Intercontinental, we realize that we've made it to the WRONG Intercontinental. There were tears, sweat, and bloodshed. We all survived and are probably stronger because of it.
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