Talk At You Later

I used to have a boss some years ago that would end his interactions with me with the phrase "talk at you later". He was one of my least favorite bosses and for lack of a better phrase, a complete jackass. He was hugely overbearing, annoying to deal with, and thought only his design ideas were what I should be making. I would crook my head with a puzzled look whenever I heard him utter the phrase and fortunately he was usually leaving the store or ending our phone conversation when he said it. He was the first person, and until now, has been the only person I have ever heard say that phrase. I thought he was just ignorant or that he had his phrases confused. I thought for sure he meant "talk WITH you later", but now I am realizing, his phrase was more correct.

Lately I have been noticing a pattern in my relationship with my mother and whether it has always been there or not, I can't tell. She and I have a phone call everyday, and lately, I have noticed it has been more of a 'talk at you' call. One of us calls the other and I end up listening to her talk at me about whatever is on her mind, whatever happened in her day, or whatever she wants to talk at me about. Rarely she asks about me or my day, but rarely it does happen. A ‘talk at you’ call is one of the most boring, long and uninteresting calls you will ever have with another person. I have become quite good at playing online games, answering emails and watching television shows all while on the other end of a ‘talk at you’ call. I can have an entire thirty minute conversation with her and only utter about 20 words usually consisting of “Yeah.”, “No, that doesn’t sound good.”, “Oh really?”, “I guess I better let you go then” and “Good night”.

Today was one of those days when I really could have used a 'talk with you' call rather than a 'talk at you' call. I recently found a slightly painful lump in my breast during a self-exam, and had my gynecologist check it out for me. She too found the lump and agreed with me that it might be something that needs to be removed with surgery. Like every other girl I know, I just wanted to pick up the phone and call my ‘mommy’ and cry about my news with her. Then I remembered who my mom is and thought better of it. If I had called her, the conversation would have been more of a ‘talk at you call’ where she would remind me that it’s my fault I have a lump in my breast because…pick an excuse. When it comes to me, the compassion well has dried up, it’s empty and I am out of luck.

We did have our usual 30 minute phone conversation tonight, she did all of the talking at me, and she has no idea I have a lump in my breast. She did not ask about my day and I was never given the chance to tell her anything about it. Maybe our relationship is better this way. I don’t suppose I can ever miss what I never had before; a loving relationship with my mother.