Love Finds Its Pocket Read online

  She remembered one such occasion in particular, when later in the same evening of occurrence, she broached with Toni the topic of her propensity to unintelligibly ramble on whenever she got nervous, finding it odd that Toni was barely cognizant of having engaged in such mindless dribble for what amounted to nearly ten minutes of conversational vacuity. Her recollection had been that she’d had a wonderful time, being more calm than usual. Kat stared at her, not knowing whether to burst Toni’s delusional bubble or let it go in hopes that she would eventually wake-up and realize how uncomfortable she really was in social gatherings where she felt inferior to the other participants.

  Kat’s observations were not dissimilar from witnessing a train wreck in which one held no hope of preventing its occurrence, knew it would be an upsetting experience but was powerless to look away. On that particular evening however, with her parents practically giddy over their victory at having slain the Italian dragoness, the luxury of observation simply could not be afforded. Subjecting her parents to an admission of lesbianism was complicated enough; she certainly didn’t want them thinking she had completely lost her mind and was also marrying a fool.

  “Toni has moved up in the company and is now the senior director of project management. There’s only one level of management between Toni and the CEO so she’s gained considerable visibility.

  “She’s done quite well with her career trajectory. She makes a comfortable six-figure income.” Kat interjected in hopes of snuffing their snide comments and sneers out of existence.

  “Well, I work a boat-load of OT to make as much as I do,” Toni clarified.

  “You are an hourly wage earner?” Kat’s mother practically spit out her question.

  “What is your official title... Toni.” Kat’s father added her name either as an objectionable formation of sounds reluctant to exit his mouth or perhaps that he had momentarily forgotten it, inconsequential as she was to his existence.

  By that time, Toni had retreated back into the safety of her shell, wishing she were anywhere but there. The superpower of teleportation would have been a handy talent to possess as she would have employed it with immediate effect. Toni struggled with how to provide a succinct answer to his question. In her field, functional titles were more telling than were their official counterparts. Her primary interest was how much the company agreed to pay her and the amount of annual bonus she would be receiving as those were the benchmarks that spoke to her value to the company. One couldn’t spend a title she reasoned, but as she discovered, most people were content to have bestowed upon them some ridiculous title coupled with a three-percent increase; her preference was to receive the more tangible, spendable, investible accolades.

  Toni could feel tears welling up in her eyes and kicked herself for being unable to control her emotions. Providing a lengthy explanation of the hierarchical structure of information technology positions and responsibilities would have required more patience and time than they either had or were willing to give her. Neither one was even remotely interested in enduring the tedious retelling of Toni’s working world, which made Toni lower her head and try to conceive of a plan on how to quickly extricate herself from the torture session. She considered Kat’s parents to be horrible monsters and wanted only to leave and never again agree to be in their presence. If they hadn’t accepted her yet, having been acquainted with her for years, they never would.

  Toni wasn’t inclined to hate anyone but she decided to make an exception in this case. Well-bred or not, she saw them as classless jerks for so mercilessly pummeling her for no better reason than to make certain she clearly felt their contempt for her. She pictured them sharpening their talons prior to the dinner party then practicing their parrying maneuvers to make certain that when one began to tire, the other would pick up the rapier and carry on as if they spoke with one mind, one voice.

  Toni’s head began to sway, her equilibrium losing its already tenuous grip. Neither crying nor passing out were acceptable options. She wasn’t particularly prideful but refused to allow herself to become some anecdote that they’d share with their friends about how their daughter must feel so smugly content in her retribution against them by having chosen such an inferior and unworthy mate and then have the temerity to subject them to her without conscience.

  Toni looked over at Kat, who was waiting patiently for her to respond. Toni hadn’t before realized that Kat was not the fully formed, individuated being she had been purporting all along to be – she too yearned for her parents’ love and validation but there was nothing Toni could do to mend their familial rift. She never stood a chance at being accepted into their fold, having lost years before the evening began.

  If they truly loved their daughter, they would have been more accommodating to the woman being presented to them as the love of her life. Rather, they sought to undermine Kat’s judgment and negate her thoughts, feelings - anything to demonstrate how they found her discernment in selecting a life-partner, lacking. Allowing the evening to continue would only have bought the Warrington’s more time to construct a new slate of contemptible slights to thrust into Toni’s already gaping wounds and since her tolerance was already saturated, she conceded the fight, white flag raised high. They would simply have to look elsewhere to satisfy their need for sadistic amusement. She stood up and held out her hand for Kat to take it.

  “I love you too much not to interject and end this madness. Please take my hand. Let’s go home and I promise I will dedicate my life to loving you. I will love you until the end of time and make you feel loved every day of your life. You don’t need this nonsense – I don’t need this nonsense. My family and I will become your family.” Toni paused for a moment, made eye contact with the Warringtons, in succession, then landing on Kat whose smile, just moments before had lit the room, morphed into semi-shock as Toni added, “Never again, my love. I can’t. I won’t.” And that was the last time Toni accepted a dinner invitation that included Kat’s parents.

  Dr. Evans to the Rescue

  “Class distinctions”, Kat muttered almost inaudibly. “I never thought there was much merit to it – not between us anyway, especially when you factor-in her catholic school education, which should have leveled the playing field somewhat but here I am, intrinsically understanding proper decorum whereas the love of my life, so wonderful in every other way, completely falls to pieces, embarrassingly so, whenever subjected to a situation in which her value may be under scrutiny; fairly assessed or not, I would think that a person who’s comfortable in his or her own skin would be able to let any manner of bullshit roll right off of them and not turn into some rambling fool at the slightest provocation.

  “I guess there’s always some fly squirming around in the relationship ointment. No one’s perfect, right?”

  Kat made this admission to her therapist, a luxury she afforded herself as she needed to express potentially unpleasant sentiments about Toni to someone, refusing to do so with friends or relatives and most certainly not with the intended subject. Discussing certain topics with Toni had proven so explosively disastrous in the past that she was disinclined to revisit that minefield. That she also received valuable, rational feedback from her therapist was a motivation that helped to keep her grounded.

  “If you’re willing to be patient, and not outwardly judge her yourself, because you have to assume that she can feel your disappointment in her, then perhaps over time she’ll progress past her perceived limitations and break the cycle that she’s most likely accepted without question since she’s been cognizant.

  “Now, let’s get back to how you felt and how you decided to handle your parents’ ridicule during that evening.” Dr. Evans sat back with a wry smile that belied her professional demeanor. She found Kat to be entertaining, excruciatingly funny and witty and made it a point never to schedule an appointment directly after hers, as their sessions tended to extend into the subsequent hour.

  “Toni partially redeemed herself by explaining that her livel
ihood was chosen in part because she’s most comfortable working in the background, providing the foundational mechanics for a business’ operational requirements. She certainly does possess a far more fluid eloquence in that arena over any other.

  “It’s true; over the last ten working years of her professional life, she’s only interacted with other humans, I mean other than her project-mates, when she has had no choice but to discuss systems design or programmatic solution options to user groups. She holds all interim ‘discussions’ with the user community via e-mail or an instant-messaging office communicator protocol or she just lets her manager do all the talking. She says it’s more efficient that way, but I think she’s simply not comfortable being in the presence of people and running the risk of not knowing how to handle a potentially explosive confrontation.

  “She said that she’s lived a sheltered life, which I thought not possible when one is born and bred in New York City but there it is. Had she told me that she’d been raised in the nether reaches of habitable space I wouldn’t have questioned its veracity - except of course for her distinctive Brooklyn accent and vernacular usage that places her squarely within the New York landscape.

  “Her parents scrimped and saved to send their kids to Catholic school so they wouldn’t be subjected to the potential dangers that the public school system threatened in abundance so that probably also worked toward her becoming so cloistered.” Kat stopped speaking and ran a hand through her luxurious mane, gazing absently into space, lost in her thoughts.

  “Interesting how you still haven’t addressed my question, Katherine. Why don’t we discuss that evening in more detail so that you can get to the root of what’s really bothering you.” Dr. Evans sat back in her chair and asked if Kat wouldn’t mind being recorded.

  “If that will help you to help me, then by all means,” Kat said as she held out her hand, palm up.

  “I’ve always purported to be so independent, that I don’t require the love, acceptance or approval of my parents but if that’s the case, then why does my behavior speak to a different conclusion?

  “Yet there we were, in the same room at the same time, and I just sat there and allowed them to brow-beat my lover without intervening.” Kat was becoming visibly exasperated.

  “And now I’m trying to shift the blame for their bad behavior onto her; once removed makes that bitter pill easier to swallow, right doctor?” Kat put her head down, slinking away with embarrassment.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere, Katherine. You’re close to discovering your truth so why don’t you just free-associate and if I hear you veering off course, I’ll suggest corrective measures; otherwise, the answers you seek may well find expression in your recounting and interpretation of that fateful day. That was a pivotal moment in your life so it deserves the time and energy to be deconstructed.” Dr. Evans smiled in anticipation of being regaled by Kat’s superb storytelling skills.

  Kat Recounts the Tour of the Classic Eight

  “Toni’s jaw was affixed to the open position for the entire duration of the apartment tour. Her eyes glowered at me when we peeked into my au pair’s bedroom. ‘The bedroom I shared with Marcella in the Brooklyn duplex was smaller than that’. I don’t know why she felt the need to hold against me that which was provided to me at birth. I thought she was more rational than to be jealous over a monetary disparity, especially when we’d already discussed and agreed with the wisdom of being judged on one’s own merits above all else.

  “I mean, if we were to juxtapose the love, attention and affection that she received from her family – still receives to this day, confident in the knowledge that she was the center of her parents’ universe and that every little stubbed toe or hurt feeling would be met with a hug and a biscotti and as much discussion about it that she wanted, against the hard-heartedness of my folks who were seemingly impervious to my desperate attempts to get them to demonstrate some compassion - not even when they saw the gruesome condition of my body and face after being in a car accident while away at college, did they show anything other than annoyance at having to disrupt their schedule to tend to me, then she’s actually much richer than I could possibly ever hope to be, but no. It’s about the stupid money and how the accumulation of wealth has somehow lent itself to implying a perverse brand of superiority; net fucking worth.” Kat paused for a sip of water. “What’s the big deal, anyway?”

  “And is that your take on it, Katherine? That you’re somehow being made to feel guilty over having been borne to a privileged status?”

  “Well yes. And no. Oh, I’m not entirely certain, am I! Perhaps it’s simply society telling people that masters of industry bring more value to the table but it’s not as if her family isn’t self-supporting – no public assistance and her brothers actually started their own construction company, but I don’t know. Maybe it’s more about leaders versus followers.

  “My parents never harbored any expectations that their desires would be satisfied by the beneficence of another; they simply put into motion plans to achieve their goals, never allowing themselves to be stymied by anyone or anything. Having come from a bit of privilege themselves certainly gave them a leg up, but I think they would have excelled regardless. All obstacles were either obliterated or negotiated until they were whittled to a nub.

  “My parents make definitive statements based on sound rationale and forge a confident path in whatever endeavor they choose whereas Toni’s folks demure and defer to a higher authority. Has religion maybe played a significant part in having created their ‘humble’ inclinations? Do all Catholics typically feel as though they’re engaging in the sin of pride if they take the reins and demand to lead the parade? Could it be a cultural thing where not having fully acclimated to the American imperative of creating ones own path, makes them think it’s arrogant to rise above their ancestrally familial station? Could it be a restrictive gender issue? I don’t really think it’s the latter because her father supported both of his daughters while they went to college and she said that he made them take a series of self-defense classes when they were tykes so they could learn how to unequivocally, physically ‘just say no’. Is it an intelligence issue where having attained an advanced education would make one less inclined to take direction from someone clearly inferior to him or her or perhaps a multi-generational sense of low-self esteem from which there is no possibility of extrication?”

  “Breathe, Katherine.

  “You’ve placed too many possibilities on the table so perhaps you should pull back, slow down and consider your options with a better, tighter focus. This seemingly unattainable ‘truth’ that is at the root of your angst isn’t about Toni and whatever failings she may or may not have.

  “Wait - hear me out,” Dr. Evans said with hand held up high in anticipation of Kat’s burgeoning protestations.

  “So much of the fears, criticisms and concerns that we express about others is merely reflective of our own unresolved construct.

  “What I’m saying is, it’s so much easier to project our own conflicts as belonging to someone else and then work through them at arms-length rather than embrace our own noise, deconstruct it, face the potential ugliness of the discovery, and come out of the process a fully formed human being.

  “I hope your goal is to dig down as deeply as possible so that you can get to the root of what’s preventing you from fully individuating from your parents – to finally wrest-away from them control over your personhood. It’s time, don’t you agree?

  “If you don’t tend to it now, your distorted self-view will slowly become your only reality to such a fatal extent that you may never discover who you really are. How can you offer interactions with anyone else as a three-dimensional, self-aware human when you still have heaped upon your psyche, layer upon layer of familial detritus?”

  “I thought I was over that nonsense but apparently, I was only ignoring it by keeping a safe distance away from my folks. I can’t claim true enlightenment if I’m manipulatin
g the scenario, right?

  “So here I am, placing blame on Toni when I should be looking at myself.

  “Oh, when does it ever end!” Kat emphatically stated, but with a smile, as felt yet another layer of parental sludge slide off of her.

  “This is good, Katherine – you’re quite right.

  “Most of our interactions are with facsimiles – two-dimensional cardboard cutouts that are only partially representational of the person within. Fear drives all unresolved issues deeply within where the superego can safely protect the ego’s fragility and an impulsive id’s insistent desire for expression from being torn apart by an unloving and uncompassionate world.

  “Before people know it, their personas have become de facto stand-ins for their true selves and their conversations become cyclical repetitions that never develop into anything even remotely resembling clarity, let alone catharsis.

  “So, what happens? People drink or take mind-numbing drugs to cope with their inner emptiness, never acknowledging their despondency yet feeling its destructive effects just the same.

  “For all but the most astute, no one bothers to question the bizarrely shallow nature of personality types, most likely for fear that their own constructs would be held up for scrutiny if they were to start questioning the validity of those around them.” Dr. Evans paused to take a much needed sip of water.

  “The greatest gift we can give to another is that of our true selves. Good or bad, at least if it’s an accurate representation of who we really are, an honest, accurate rendering of our individual constructs, then our dialogue can commence on a solid footing. Overly politicized, passive-aggressive communications would melt away, sinister duplicity would no longer have merit or ever be tolerated in the next evolutionarily cycle in which higher thought processes effortlessly take center stage as people would actually start utilizing their potential to work toward societal betterment rather than placing one’s fragile ego at the center of the impetus for every action that motivates them.