in-your-face. I blamed her for all of my negative personality traits. Plus, she was a really crappy mother. She made those Tiger Mothers look like kittens.
"Your hair is ridiculous."
No hi, how are you, I miss you. Nope. We started with the insults.
I dealt with her the only way I knew how. "Why, thank you Pearl. Your hair looks lovely as well. It's always nice to get a compliment from your mother."
It frustrated her, as it always did when I ignored her attempts to get a rise out of me. You basically had to ignore ninety-nine percent of what my mother said or else you'd get so mad you'd come up with increasingly creative and inappropriate ways to make her be quiet. Do not ask me how I knew this.
"Are you padding your bra?"
"Oh my Buddha, Pearl. No, I'm not." I folded my arms across my chest. That lets you know how long it had been since she last saw me. And I enjoyed sneaking in an "oh my Buddha" reference. She found it offensive. Hence, my use of it.
"How are your grades?"
"My grades are fine. It's only the second day of school."
Ella crept in my room behind me and I could see her from my camera. Which meant my mother could see her too. "Forgot my laptop, sorry," she whispered as she hurried out.
"Ella's still there, I see." Pearl never liked Ella. It reminded me of how sunlight repelled darkness. The two couldn't coexist.
"She lives here."
Unlike you
, I refrained from adding.
I wondered what way the conversation would go now. Odds were she would either yell at me about not honoring my Japanese heritage or interrogate me about applying to Wellesley.
To my surprise she asked, "Is anything new happening at school?"
I felt a pang of regret that we didn't have anything approaching a relationship because even if I never admitted it to anyone else, I would have loved having a mother I could talk to about Jake Kingston. I wanted advice. I wanted to know that I was normal. I wanted to know that things would get better, that I wouldn't always feel so helpless and hopeless where he was concerned. I wanted to talk about how Jake made me feel earlier today.
But I couldn't.
I had to tell her something. "Um, I decided to run for senior class president."
"You're running for senior class president?" Only she said it the same way someone else might say, "You're going to eat dog food?"
"Yep."
"Be sure to emphasize that you are Japanese-American."
And there we had it. We took a slight detour to get there, but we had arrived.
"I'm just American, Pearl." Her eyes narrowed and I knew it was time to move in for the kill. "I mean, I don't know what good it does me to be one-quarter Japanese. I didn't get any of the good traits. I suck at math. I'm uncoordinated so there's no way I could ever be a ninja, and I think Harajuku fashion is weird. On the flip side though, I am a very bad driver." To be honest, I was proud of my heritage. But I would never let Pearl know that. It's why I refused to tell her about my anime/manga obsession. She'd take too much satisfaction in my loving something Japanese, and then lecture me about wasting my time on such a meaningless art form. Because the sculptures she made out of actual trash were so much more meaningful and important.
So instead I gave backhanded stereotyping insults, hoping it would tick her off enough that she wouldn't speak to me for another six months.
"Mother," she corrected. She wanted me to call her "Mother" as a sign of respect, so I basically called her Pearl every chance I got. I guess I'd called her Pearl one too many times.
I knew what she was doing and why, but I chose to play dumb. "Mother? Is Grandma there with you?"
"No, I'm reminding you to call me Mother."
"Sure thing, Pearl." I knew this made me sound like a total brat, but you had to know her.
She glared at me and then said, "We will resume this discussion when you stop being so deliberately obtuse." She disconnected from our video chat.
I let out a squawk of indignation. Had my own mother just called me
"Your hair is ridiculous."
No hi, how are you, I miss you. Nope. We started with the insults.
I dealt with her the only way I knew how. "Why, thank you Pearl. Your hair looks lovely as well. It's always nice to get a compliment from your mother."
It frustrated her, as it always did when I ignored her attempts to get a rise out of me. You basically had to ignore ninety-nine percent of what my mother said or else you'd get so mad you'd come up with increasingly creative and inappropriate ways to make her be quiet. Do not ask me how I knew this.
"Are you padding your bra?"
"Oh my Buddha, Pearl. No, I'm not." I folded my arms across my chest. That lets you know how long it had been since she last saw me. And I enjoyed sneaking in an "oh my Buddha" reference. She found it offensive. Hence, my use of it.
"How are your grades?"
"My grades are fine. It's only the second day of school."
Ella crept in my room behind me and I could see her from my camera. Which meant my mother could see her too. "Forgot my laptop, sorry," she whispered as she hurried out.
"Ella's still there, I see." Pearl never liked Ella. It reminded me of how sunlight repelled darkness. The two couldn't coexist.
"She lives here."
Unlike you
, I refrained from adding.
I wondered what way the conversation would go now. Odds were she would either yell at me about not honoring my Japanese heritage or interrogate me about applying to Wellesley.
To my surprise she asked, "Is anything new happening at school?"
I felt a pang of regret that we didn't have anything approaching a relationship because even if I never admitted it to anyone else, I would have loved having a mother I could talk to about Jake Kingston. I wanted advice. I wanted to know that I was normal. I wanted to know that things would get better, that I wouldn't always feel so helpless and hopeless where he was concerned. I wanted to talk about how Jake made me feel earlier today.
But I couldn't.
I had to tell her something. "Um, I decided to run for senior class president."
"You're running for senior class president?" Only she said it the same way someone else might say, "You're going to eat dog food?"
"Yep."
"Be sure to emphasize that you are Japanese-American."
And there we had it. We took a slight detour to get there, but we had arrived.
"I'm just American, Pearl." Her eyes narrowed and I knew it was time to move in for the kill. "I mean, I don't know what good it does me to be one-quarter Japanese. I didn't get any of the good traits. I suck at math. I'm uncoordinated so there's no way I could ever be a ninja, and I think Harajuku fashion is weird. On the flip side though, I am a very bad driver." To be honest, I was proud of my heritage. But I would never let Pearl know that. It's why I refused to tell her about my anime/manga obsession. She'd take too much satisfaction in my loving something Japanese, and then lecture me about wasting my time on such a meaningless art form. Because the sculptures she made out of actual trash were so much more meaningful and important.
So instead I gave backhanded stereotyping insults, hoping it would tick her off enough that she wouldn't speak to me for another six months.
"Mother," she corrected. She wanted me to call her "Mother" as a sign of respect, so I basically called her Pearl every chance I got. I guess I'd called her Pearl one too many times.
I knew what she was doing and why, but I chose to play dumb. "Mother? Is Grandma there with you?"
"No, I'm reminding you to call me Mother."
"Sure thing, Pearl." I knew this made me sound like a total brat, but you had to know her.
She glared at me and then said, "We will resume this discussion when you stop being so deliberately obtuse." She disconnected from our video chat.
I let out a squawk of indignation. Had my own mother just called me
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