The Gummer has some dramatic chappy abrasion under her nose:
"Is that a cold sore? Do you have herpes in your nose? Man, I've done a lot of weird shit, but I've never had a dick in my nose. Weird. Did Dad learn that in Korea? So is that money from the stock market or were you guys really just selling nasal fetish porn?"
Half an hour later:
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
I'm squinting at her. My analytical face and my disgusted face look very similar. (Hey, The Gummer and I both squint our left eye now. Cool)
"I'm imagining you with a dick in your nose. Do people even do that? It's just weird. How DID you get herpes there? Don't you know 'Not in her hair, not in her eye'? My friend was on Leno and said that during a cooking segment."
She giggles.
"He's very funny, and he's a really nice guy."
There's a smile under her dicknose. She approves. (Of course she does. She made That Nasty Comment I Can't Unhear when we saw that comedian at that casino in Tunica. I'm saving that story for later. Suffice it to say, my mother does not mind a blowjob joke.)
Then she was impressed that I could change her clothes so easily while she was sitting in a wheelchair:
"Well duh. If you two had spent more time having sex in cars like normal people, you'd know what you were doing."
Woven into all of these jokes...like some absurd construction paper basket... is one of the most cathartic conversations we've ever had.
My friend is adopting a baby. This friend is awesome. Heart as big as Texas. I have no doubt she'll be a great mom, and I don't think she doubts it either. However, she's still afraid that the baby won't be into the plan, that the little girl will grow up and veto the transaction, that the roots just won't take. That's not how it works.
"Mom". I've said her name a billion times. "Mom."
I have no doubt.
"That's what we were really fighting about. I kept saying that I didn't think you liked me, but you were afraid I didn't like you."
She didn't say anything. She just smiled. More of our shells crumbled like my poorly-planned, joint compound-as-stucco-after-I-sawed-that-wall-in-half, bathroom remodeling project. For $200 a day, someone else could pick up those pieces. Dicknose and I just wanted to sit there and watch the tokens add up. The house didn't take everything. The house didn't win tonight.
Her eyes were red. I could have told her the Leno bit again, but she didn't need to keep laughing. Sometimes people cry when they win.
