Altogether unusual

Mothers...again

'Accept who you are. Unless you're a serial killer.'

Ellen

"Clarisse, pizza dear?" My mother's voice calling from the kitchen warms me all over. I am finally here, at my parents' house in Australia, more or less two months after my epiphany. I actually cannot believe it's been almost three years since I last saw them. We used skype and sent a lot of pictures of course, but after a lifetime of being with them day and night, it seems surreal I managed to go so much without them. I know it has been more difficult for them though. I had many things to figure out for myself, I had to know I can do it on my own, and the fact that my parents understood that means more to me than anything else they could have done.

"Yes, mom, bring it on! Let's get fat tonight." There is food everywhere. My mother thinks I am too skinny, so she's been shoving food into my stomach for the entire week I've been here.

"Fat? We need to put something soft on those bones of yours. I wish I were with you on the road, to cook for you, make sure you drink water and get plenty of sun." She's looking at me like I'm going to die of starvation.

"Mom, come on, it's not that bad. I'm fine, really. I just lost 6 pounds or so."

"You're just so grown up."

"You mean to say I look old?" I mock with no success.

"No, you are not old. That would mean I am oldER. I'm not going to accept that. I just miss you with your baby fat."

"Sweet baby Jesus, is that a thing? Missing my baby fat?" Poor mother, she really missed me above and beyond the call of duty.

"Clarisse, you know what I mean. It's like you are not my baby anymore. You are my daughter... who doesn't need my help, doesn't ask for advice, or at least money."

"Mom, seriously! You know I have never asked for advice. And I had to return the money you helped me with. It's bad enough I needed them in the first place." I try dismissing the subject by grabbing a piece of pizza.

"I just don't understand why is it so bad to get help from your parents. It's not like we are strangers now. Your father and I worked our entire lives to be able to offer you a good one."

"She's right about that." I hear my father say. "We'll have to talk about this at length. Not now, but soon."

"Dad..."

"...we'll talk about it, Clarisse, or else we're going to retire like the old people we are, and start chasing you wherever you go."

"Yes sir!" I comply with a small smile. I am not really sure he is not joking.

Tonight we are watching three major Fun Fam Dabney favourites: The last of the Mohicans, The Shawshank Redemption and American History X.

Not only I am happy to be here and spend our classical time together, but these movies have very little dead scenes and the discussion I know I have to have with them can be delayed a little bit longer. I know it's coming, but I dread it. There are a lot of things I haven't told them about my break up, about Eve and about my life on the road.

"Tomorrow we are going to the beach, you and me together." My mother said on our way up to sleep.

As usually, when my mother and I go to the beach, her spot is in the sun, building her tan, while mine is under an umbrella, sporting a maxi dress and the largest straw hat I could find. This time, after an hour of comfortable silence simply watching the ocean, she urged me to give up the dress and show some skin, not in the sun, mind you, because she knows very well how I become all red, but at least to give my bathing suit a chance. The simple black bikini is one of the many gifts my mother bought for me. She knows I am not into wearing something very revealing, so she chose a sort of a vintage model in black which actually looks quite nice. I feel very much like a girl, which is not a normal occurrence to me.