Your Mom Your Dad

I go to my parent’s home in the suburbs every Friday afternoon. A few months ago, I decided, and they allowed me to rent a room downtown near my office. So now it is Friday, and I am on my weekly mission. Entering the gate of the housing complex gives me a special feeling that I miss during the week.

Walking to the house, I feel the mild afternoon breeze stroke my face. First, I walk along the large main street lined with large houses displaying a beautiful, well-maintained front garden. At the second crossroad, I take a right turn leading to a narrow street and smaller houses. 

I know the street so well, sometimes I think that I can tread the path to my parent’s house with my eyes closed.

“Mom….! Dad….! I’m home,” I cry as I enter the 

house.

Nobody shows up to greet me, but I hear Dad’s welcoming hum from the backyard, where he is busy feeding his Koi fish. Taking care of the fish has become Dad’s new hobby since retiring five years ago.

I don’t see Mom. She must be cooling herself in her air-conditioned room, reading a book or something.

I sip a glass of cold water to quench my thirst. Then I got straight to my room to change my dress to something casual and more comfortable. I can feel that my back is wet with sweat.

I unbuttoned my shirt when suddenly the door opened, and Mom walked in. I feel disturbed. I don’t like to be disturbed, especially when I need a few moments of privacy.

“Mom…?? You should have knocked before you open the door,” I say without hiding my annoyance.

She doesn’t seem to care about my objection. With a demanding voice, she says, “Pita, come to my room.”

“What for Mom?”

“Just come to my room.”

She waves her right hand, signaling  me to follow her immediately. Her facial expression shows that something is bothering her, and she needs to talk about it.

I fold my unbuttoned shirt like a kimono and hold it tight with my arms, then follow Mom to her room.

“Something wrong?”

“Ssstt…lower your voice and close the door.”

She acts strangely, but I obey her dutifully. I patiently wait for what she will tell me. She holds out a man’s golf T-shirt and a pair of golf shoes. They both look new.

“Your Dad just bought these,” explains Mom. “He will wear them tomorrow for his golf game.”

“So….?” I don’t understand why Mom is annoyed.

“I think your Dan plans to seduce a young girl.”

“Oooh, Mom….what makes you think like that?”

“Your Dad never cares what he wears, and now he suddenly wants to look dandy.”

“I don’t think Dad wants to look dandy. He just wants to have a new T-shirt.”

“You don’t get the point, Pita,” Mom sights. “Remember your Uncle Tom, your Dad’s brother.”

Mom stresses the blood relation between Uncle Tom and Dad, which means Dad may have the same bad genes as my uncle.

No one notice when Uncle Tom puts more attention on his appearance. He had his shoes polished every day. He wanted his suits ironed properly, no wrinkly left. He liked to spray himself with cologne, something he had never done before. Then one day, we found out that he had a young girlfriend, only half his age and two years younger than his oldest daughter.

Mom sits dejected on the bed. With almost a cry in her voice, she says, “ I’m old now. I’m not attractive anymore. I have wrinkles on my face. There are man young girls who would like to chase after an old man like your Dad. Those girls don’t care what a man looks like, old, bad or fat. As long as he has a thick pocket of money, he is okay.”

“Mom, you just making something out of nothing,” I try to calm her down.

“I don’t care about your Dad’s money, but I cannot accept somebody sucking up his money and leaving you penniless.”

Mom is silent for a while, then she says, “You must accompany your Dad tomorrow.”

At that point, I know that there is no way I can turn down her wish.

Over dinner, I tell Dad that I would like to come with him to his golf game tomorrow. He agrees right away. He tells me to be ready at five-thirty in the morning, or he will leave without me.

Waking up in the early morning is not a problem for me. By five-thirty in the morning, I am ready.

“Wow….new shirt…..new shoes!” I pretend that I haven’t seen them before.

“These were on sale,” Dad replies.

I take a glance at Mom, and I see her frowning face.

“You should wash it first,” Mom says, still frowning.

“It’s clean,” Dad says.

“You just can’t wait to show it off.”

“What are you talking about?” Dad grumbles. Then without saying goodbye, he walks out towards the car.

I kiss Mom and give her a guarantee that I will watch Dad closely every single minute.

Dad starts the conversation as soon as we are in the car.

“Your Mon is getting odd.”

“What do you mean by odd?” I ask without looking at him, paying attention to the road as I drive.

“Yesterday afternoon, when I arrived in town, your Mom asked me to take him to the beauty salon for a facial treatment.”

“That’s not odd.”

“But she just had her hair dyed two days ago. You don’t know Pita. Your Mom visits the beauty salon almost every week.”

“Well…maybe she just needs a little external help to fight her aging process, “I try to defend Mom.

“That shows that your Mom has low self-esteem. It’s a natural process to have gray hair and wrinkles when people get old.”

I just shrug my shoulder. I don’t know what to say. As I grow up, I watch my parent get older in age, and sometimes I notice they behave childishly.

There are some times when Mom complains to me, “Your Dad does this….your Dad does that.”

But other times, Dad turns to me, “ You Mom does this….you Mom does that.”

I can’t remember when they started developing the habit of using “your Mom” or “your Dad” phrases when they talk to me. The reference seems to distance themselves but still involve me.

@@@

As Dad’s golf game finishes, I am aware that I haven’t seen any of your girls as Mom, though. There is only a group of Dad’s friends who are of the same age and appearance as Dad, old with thin gray hair on their heads and bulging bellies under their shirts.

The next day, Mom demanded to be taken to a mall, not a nearby mall, but a big mall downtown. She has run out of her favorite beauty cream that our nearby mall doesn’t sell that specific brand of beauty product.

We split up when we arrive at the mall. Mom and I go to the beauty counters, and Dad goes anywhere but the beauty counters by himself. We will meet again in two hours at the front gate.

The beauty counters are shiny, as they always should be, and a perfume fragrance can be smelled lightly in the air. 

Various shapes and sizes of beautiful bottles and tubes are organized neatly inside a thick glass cabinet. With the help of spotlights, they appear sparkling like jewels.

Mom strokes a sample of anti-aging day cream and rubs it on her hand. Then she smells it and smiles. She does the same for a night cream and agrees to buy them.

The sales girl praises Mom for her delicate skin and also kindly reminds Mom about wrinkles around her eyes. With her professional skill, she persuades Mom to buy a tube of anti-wrinkle eye cream. 

It is in  a tube smaller than my little finger but twice the price of the other creams combined.

The sales girl tells Mom that if she buys another thing to raise the purchase value up to Rp 700.000, she will receive a free gift. This smart little beauty pouch contains lipstick, mascara, a small compact powder and a small perfume bottle.

Mom stares at me as if she is asking for approval. But I know that she doesn’t need any approval from me.

She picks out a small bottle of perfume which cost her Rp. 200.000. The free gift itself costs Rp. 300.000, so she feels that she has saved Rp. 100.000.

We are only ten meters away from the cosmetic counter when 

perfume sales girls block our way. She holds a bottle of perfume in her right hand and some scented paper cards in her left hand.

 I politely refuse her offer to spray my writ with her perfume, but Mom does the opposite. She lets the sales girls spray the perfume on her wrist and takes one scented paper. 

With all politeness aside, I quickly drag Mom away. I think she has spent enough money today.

“Why you didn’t take the sample card,” asks Mom

“What for?”

“I can put it in my handbag. It makes my handbag smell good.”

Mom opens her handbag and puts the card in, where she already has other cards. Some of the fragrance has faded away, while some are still slightly preserved.

“Next time, if they offer you one, just take it. Give it to me if you don’t like it. Okay…? Mom try to extract a promise from me.

“Okay.”

“And don’t walk too fast,” Mom warns me.

I have to admit that dragging her in quick steps is on purpose. She can easily be tempted by all the glamorous sparkling display windows.

“Okay, I will slow down. But just look, don’t buy.”

A second later, I realized I had just said exactly the same way Mom said it years ago when I was a kid whining and trying to spend more time in a  toy store.

We continue our journey along the spotless marble aisles.Browsing shop by shop through their decorated display windows. Letting our eyes have the ultimate enjoyment of luxury things when our pockets cannot afford them. 

As we pass a beauty salon, Mom decides to have a manicure and pedicure. I then continue my journey in the mall by alone with no purpose but to kill time. There are another thirty minutes before I meet Dad.

“Where’s your Mom? Dad asks when he sees me approaching him without her.

“Guess what, Dad….?” I give him a big naughty smile. “She has a manicure and pedicure.”

“See….! I told you so!.” Dad is slightly agitated.

“That’s okay, Dad.” I try to calm him down. “Let’s go to a café and have a drink.

”

“It will be very expensive. We can get ten cups of coffee at home for the same price of a cup of coffee there.”

Dad has become more concerned about money ever since he retired. Excluding his annual golf membership, of course.

“Don’t worry Dad, I will treat you. Besides, my legs are killing me.”

We go to a cafe around the corner and order two cups of cappuccino.

“How about a piece of cheesecake?” I offer when I see Dad doesn’t plan on ordering anything else.

“At those prices?”

“Still on my treat Dad. You don’t get this special offer every day.”

“Okay.” Dad finally agrees, simply because he doesn’t have the heart to ruin my generous mood.

The cappuccino mugs attract my attention as they are served on my table. A line says, “Beware, Midlife Crisis in Progress.”

This is it! It has taken quite a while for me to find a good description of how Mom and Da are behaving these days. Now it is laid out in front of me. Clear and concise!

I look at Dad, he is also aware of it. I can take it as a joke, but I am afraid Dad may get insulted.

“I think I should buy one like this for me,” Dad says slowly but surely.

I feel so glad to hear that, “I will ask if they sell the mug.”

I am about to stand up when Dad says, ‘Don’t bother, I will buy it myself. And maybe also one for your Mom. What do you think?”

“That’s a nice idea, Dad.”

I stared at Dad’s back when he walked toward the cashier. I know that they still care for each other even though they have their little quarrels every day. 

I know they still love each other even though they have stopped kissing in front of me, which in one way, is good for me. Pretending not to see them kissing is history now.

Mom and Dan are just getting older. I just realized they need me to get through their midlife crisis, and I would like them to know that I will always be there for them.

The End

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