The Discard Phase

 

(My boys are very angry with their mother.)

On Saturday, I had to work. So I took the bus to my office and spent the entire day crossing t’s and dotting i’s. I arrived at 10 a.m., and I didn’t get home until 6 p.m. Normally, I don’t toil like a coolie on the weekends. But every once in a while, it has to be done.

Rice-Boy Larry was in his room doing a book report.

I said, “Do you want to order sweet-and-sour pork for dinner?”

He shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Then why don’t you go ahead and make the call to the restaurant?”

Korea is huge on food delivery. Consequently, the peninsula is teeming with mopeds which bring vittles to everybody’s door. The drivers get paid per order, so they tool around the streets and highways like a bunch of maniacs.

“I can’t right now. I’m in the middle of something.”

“Well, how long is it going to take?”

“About an hour.”

I nodded. “OK. Fair enough. I’ll just watch some TV while you finish your assignment.”

I sat on the sofa and enjoyed an episode of Wentworth. It’s a drama set in a woman’s prison in Australia. I’m a huge fan of the series.

Anyway, halfway through the show, I started thinking about the downside of ordering take-out. I would be stuck cleaning up the mess after we finished the meal. And who the hell needs that stress, right? Life’s tough enough without adding another chore to my list.

So I knocked on Rice-Boy’s door.

He said, “What is it?”

“No need to get all impatient.”

He sighed heavily. “Well, I’m trying to get this shit done.”

“I understand. But there’s been a change of plans. We’re gonna go to the chicken house, instead.”

“OK. The chicken house. Got it.”

To make a long story short, we ordered fried bird and a pitcher of beer. Of course, my boy isn’t old enough to drink. Therefore, he had a can of Coke to wash down his food.

We struck up a conversation as we stuffed our faces with poultry.

He said, “Mom sent me a message.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me that I could speak to her if I was feeling sad.”

“How did you respond?”

“I thanked her for her concern. Then she sent me another message asking when I was going to call her? But I pretended that I never got it. I have no interest in communicating with that woman.”

I frowned and patted him on the hand. “Don’t be too harsh. She is your mother after all.”

“Nothing productive would result.”

“Well, I’m not going to force you into anything. Do as you wish.”

The last stage of a narcissistic cycle is the discard phase. That’s when the narcissist runs away from her responsibilities. She’s done this on several occasions to both of my children. Needless to say, my kids are very bitter and angry. She’s treated them like trash throughout the years, and now they want nothing to do with her. But I’m a freak with a soft heart. I can’t help feeling sorry for her. She’s obviously suffering from some type of brain damage.

We got home at 8 p.m., and I switched on Fox News. Derek Chauvin got stabbed with a knife in prison. He’s the cop who was accused of murdering Saint George Floyd. I’ve set up a poll on my message board asking whether or not Derek got a fair trial. Why not click on the link and give your opinion. It’s not like it would kill you.

(Did you like this post? Then read my novel for free. Click here.) 

(Give my message board a try.)