Even so, R.J. was able to make out the words
her son was saying to her over the din.
“Ma, you can go now. I’m gonna be okay.”
The mushrooms were just soft enough for her to addthe eggs. She grabbed a plate, and by the time she’d pulled the popped toast out of the toaster and buttered it, it was time
to flip the omelette in half and slide it onto a plate. My God, it looked great. Michael would be…
“Michael,” she said, carrying the tray into the living room. Coffee. She should have put some coffee on the tray. That would
have been good. Or at least some orange juice.
“Michael?”
He must have gone into her bedroom. Maybe he’d gone through there to use the bathroom, or… “Michael?” No answer. He couldn’t
possibly think she would follow him into her bedroom and then… Maybe this
was
a seduction. Maybe Dinah was right. Maybe Michael just came over to try to get her into bed. It sounded from where she was
standing as if drawers were being opened and dosed. Maybe she should walk right in there and…
“Michael!”
Michael stood wild-eyed and red-faced in the middle of her room.
“Where is it?” he demanded. He looked silly. Like some impersonator on television doing a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde routine.
“Where is what?” R.J. asked. She was afraid. What in the hell did he want?
“The ring,” he said. “The ring my mother gave you. I want the ring back.” If he hadn’t been so serious, the contorted enraged
face would have made her laugh.
“Michael, the ring your mother gave me doesn’t exist anymore. Remember? We called it the chandelier and I had it all changed
around?” Laugh, she prayed, but he didn’t.
“Give me the ring right now or I’ll find it myself. That ring is a family heirloom, and you’re not going to be in my family,”
he said through clenched teeth, “so give it to me.”
He walked toward the armoire where she kept her jewelry box.
“Michael, stop this,” she said.
“Give me the ring!” he screamed.
“Get out of this house, you crazy son-of-a-bitch! If you weren’t so crazy you would have gone into your office where I sent
the ring by messenger three weeks ago, with a lovely note that said I’m sorry it didn’t work out. Well, I’m not sorry. I’m
thrilled. I thank God every day for saving mefrom the brink of disaster by making you too nuts to get married. Because I was so stupid and wanting to get married so much
that I would have married you. A mama’s boy who is so hung up on his mother that he’ll never get married until she dies.”
“Shut up,” he said menacingly. “Shut up.” Now she was really afraid, because she could see she had really touched a nerve
with that one. “I’m not hung up on my mother,” he said. “I’m not. And she’s never going to die, do you hear me?” he screamed,
jumping up and down, his fists clenched. “Never, never, never.”
With each word he bent his knees and took off from the ground with both feet and landed hard again and again and again. R.J.
looked on in shocked silence, and suddenly, when the absurdity of what he had just said registered and at the same time it
occurred to her how much he reminded her of what she was sure Rumpelstiltskin must have looked like when the princess guessed
his name, she couldn’t control the huge laugh that rolled up out of her chest and into his face. It was a combination of relief
that she finally saw him as foolish instead of romantic, and the absurdity of what he’d just said, and the way he’d said it…
She’s never going to die. Rumpelstiltskin. Agghhh. Like a child at a solemn event she tried to hold it in, but that made her
laugh even harder. Oh, God, she could tell by Michael’s flared nostrils that the laughter made his rage even hotter. His face
curled into a sneer.
“You’re a mean bitch,” he said with a little stamp, and then he stormed out of the bedroom, through the living room, and out
the front
her son was saying to her over the din.
“Ma, you can go now. I’m gonna be okay.”
The mushrooms were just soft enough for her to addthe eggs. She grabbed a plate, and by the time she’d pulled the popped toast out of the toaster and buttered it, it was time
to flip the omelette in half and slide it onto a plate. My God, it looked great. Michael would be…
“Michael,” she said, carrying the tray into the living room. Coffee. She should have put some coffee on the tray. That would
have been good. Or at least some orange juice.
“Michael?”
He must have gone into her bedroom. Maybe he’d gone through there to use the bathroom, or… “Michael?” No answer. He couldn’t
possibly think she would follow him into her bedroom and then… Maybe this
was
a seduction. Maybe Dinah was right. Maybe Michael just came over to try to get her into bed. It sounded from where she was
standing as if drawers were being opened and dosed. Maybe she should walk right in there and…
“Michael!”
Michael stood wild-eyed and red-faced in the middle of her room.
“Where is it?” he demanded. He looked silly. Like some impersonator on television doing a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde routine.
“Where is what?” R.J. asked. She was afraid. What in the hell did he want?
“The ring,” he said. “The ring my mother gave you. I want the ring back.” If he hadn’t been so serious, the contorted enraged
face would have made her laugh.
“Michael, the ring your mother gave me doesn’t exist anymore. Remember? We called it the chandelier and I had it all changed
around?” Laugh, she prayed, but he didn’t.
“Give me the ring right now or I’ll find it myself. That ring is a family heirloom, and you’re not going to be in my family,”
he said through clenched teeth, “so give it to me.”
He walked toward the armoire where she kept her jewelry box.
“Michael, stop this,” she said.
“Give me the ring!” he screamed.
“Get out of this house, you crazy son-of-a-bitch! If you weren’t so crazy you would have gone into your office where I sent
the ring by messenger three weeks ago, with a lovely note that said I’m sorry it didn’t work out. Well, I’m not sorry. I’m
thrilled. I thank God every day for saving mefrom the brink of disaster by making you too nuts to get married. Because I was so stupid and wanting to get married so much
that I would have married you. A mama’s boy who is so hung up on his mother that he’ll never get married until she dies.”
“Shut up,” he said menacingly. “Shut up.” Now she was really afraid, because she could see she had really touched a nerve
with that one. “I’m not hung up on my mother,” he said. “I’m not. And she’s never going to die, do you hear me?” he screamed,
jumping up and down, his fists clenched. “Never, never, never.”
With each word he bent his knees and took off from the ground with both feet and landed hard again and again and again. R.J.
looked on in shocked silence, and suddenly, when the absurdity of what he had just said registered and at the same time it
occurred to her how much he reminded her of what she was sure Rumpelstiltskin must have looked like when the princess guessed
his name, she couldn’t control the huge laugh that rolled up out of her chest and into his face. It was a combination of relief
that she finally saw him as foolish instead of romantic, and the absurdity of what he’d just said, and the way he’d said it…
She’s never going to die. Rumpelstiltskin. Agghhh. Like a child at a solemn event she tried to hold it in, but that made her
laugh even harder. Oh, God, she could tell by Michael’s flared nostrils that the laughter made his rage even hotter. His face
curled into a sneer.
“You’re a mean bitch,” he said with a little stamp, and then he stormed out of the bedroom, through the living room, and out
the front
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