Monkey Business

jamie’s mom knows best

Tuesday, April 20, 10:00 a.m.

White noise blares through my alarm clock.

Happy birthday, Dara.

I slam my hand against the alarm. Head. Hurts. Room. Smells. I open one eye and throw off my covers. I’m fully clothed yet nicely tucked into my bed. It smells like ass in here. Oy. That must be because of the garbage pail of puke beside my bed.

What happened last night anyway? The last thing I remember clearly is drinking too much sake. But somehow I must have found my way back here. And set my alarm. Or maybe Kimmy did it for me. Who knew she had the mother gene? I’m not getting up today. I shall mourn Dara’s birthday in bed. Nothing matters, anyway. My head is broken and my heart is broken. Why bother getting up?

I turn the alarm off. No thanks.

The phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Jamie?”

“Mom, hi.”

“You weren’t still sleeping, were you?”

“Sleeping? What’s that?”

“Are you getting enough sleep over there? Have you tried those earplugs I sent?”

“Yes, Mom. Thanks, Mom.”

Pause. “I’m calling to thank you for the flowers.”

Flowers? Oh, right, flowers. I forgot I ordered the flowers. Wait a second. She never calls to thank me. “You are?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Jamie.”

“Well, Mom, I’ve been sending them for twenty years and you’ve never called to thank me before. Not that I need a thank you. I’m just wondering why this morning I get a phone call.”

“You’re right,” she says, and I hear her eating on the other end. “I’m seeing things differently, since my mother died. I wanted to tell the people I appreciate how much I appreciate them before it’s too late.”

“Well, then I appreciate you telling me that you appreciate me.”

“I appreciate you, I appreciate you. I always have, since the day you were born. Even though I didn’t want to have you.”

“Um…thanks?”

She laughs. Laughter on Dara’s birthday? “That didn’t come out right.”

I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. “So why did you decide to have me?”

“Your father thought it would be good for me. And he was right.” She pauses, and I think I hear her sniffle. “Honey, just know that pain becomes manageable. I know you’re hurting, but it’ll pass. You have to take solace in the good things in your life. Like your exciting new job.”

Wait a second. “How do you know I’ve been depressed?”

“Shush. A mother knows everything.”

“Amanda spilled the beans,” I say.

“I’m all-knowing. So you’re going to try to keep your chin up, Jamie? For me?”

“Nothing like Jewish-mother guilt to kick-start me from bed.”

“Do I hear you smiling?”

I smile. “Yes, Mom.”

“And one more thing. How about getting your niece into one of those movies you’re producing? Don’t you think she could be the new Shirley Temple?”

I agree. In this world, anything’s possible.

I hang up the phone and jump out of bed. I need to study. I have exams to ace.