Fiona De Brabanter

“Darling, do you think I’m cold?” Dorothy looks at me expectantly.

“You, cold? Come on babe, we’re sizzling hot!” I wink back at her.

“Not that way, I mean just in general with people.” Dorothy insists. “Do you think I’m cold?”

“Oh no, are you letting those stupid comments of your mother get to you again?” I get annoyed each time the subject steers towards that subject. “Are you providing a warm and welcome home to your children?”

“Yes I am.” Dorothy nods. “And it’s not like I had that example.”

“Right.” I continue. “And you’re putting healthy food on the table for them every day and providing clean clothes?”

“Why of course, you know that!” Dorothy exclaims.

“Then why are you second guessing yourself?” I ask her.

“Oh come on darling, you know it takes more than food on the table and a roof above their heads to make me a warm person.” Dorothy answers. “I’m looking for something deeper.”

“Dorothy, we’ve already had this discussion.” I point out. “You’re the most warm and loving person I know. You’re there for people who want to talk, you surround your children with care and love, you’re spontaneous and fun to be with. We always have a laugh together.”

Dorothy nods back and me and beams.

“Not like your mother…” I go on. “She’s so stuck up. Has to rehearse each phrase before she spits it out. Congratulates herself on the latest venom she concocted. Besides, you know that when you’re mother says you’re ‘cold’, she’s only getting at two things. One that you’re not reacting to her taunts. And two, that she just wants to have a nice little dig at you.”

Dorothy is still not giving me a convinced look.

“Has anyone else, apart from that pathetic woman, ever told you that you’re cold?” I throw back at her. “I mean ever ever ever?”

“Nope, nobody ever made that remark at all.” Dorothy acknowledges.

“Aha, you see!” I cry victory. “You’re too empathic to be considered ‘cold’.”

“Funny you should say.” Dorothy muses. “You know when I said that to my mother during her last visit, she asked me what ’empathic’ means.”

“You’re kidding me.” I look at her incredulously.

“No seriously, she didn’t know what the word empathic means.” Dorothy insists.

“Well of course she wouldn’t.” I’m annoyed. “The woman has no empathy. And since she thinks the world revolves only around her, she wouldn’t know what empathy is. Wouldn’t interest her. Doesn’t exist. Or at least she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to feel other people’s emotions.”

“But she knows how to play other people’s emotions alright.” Dorothy remarks.

“That’s called manipulation, darling.” I observe. “And you can park that right up the alley with her cold calculated deceit.”

“You know she bites little children in the morning.” Dorothy starts.

“We’re not supposed to talk about that.” I cut her short.

There’s an awkward moment of silence so I decide to point out the obvious.

“Darling, you do know your mother loves you, don’t you?” I coax her softly.

“Huh?” Dorothy gives me a crazy eye.

“She does. She loves you in her own sick way.” I go on. “And you in turn have to stop talking so negatively about her.”

“But it does me good to get it out.” Dorothy defends.

“No it doesn’t.” I tell her. “It was okay for once, to complain about her. But you’re really just wallowing in self-pity and that’s not the right way to go about bettering your life.”

“It’s not?” Dorothy looks at me imploringly.

“No it’s not.” I tell her firmly. “If you want to improve your situation, you’re going to have to demonstrate some kindness and charity. Towards your mother.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dorothy snorts. “After all she’s done?”

“It might just be time to make peace now.” I advise her wisely. “She loves you, in her own way.”

“How can you be so sure?” Dorothy wants to know.

“Look darling, I’m sure, knowing your mother, that she reads my blog. You keep cacking on her. That’s not nice. How would you feel?” I put it to her softly. When I get no reply I am eager to go on. “You see darling, thàt is empathy.”

More silence.

“Can we do something crazy? Would you go to the U2 concert with me?” Dorothy has an art in changing the subject suddenly when it suits her most.

“Yeah sure! Where and what time?” I go along with her because the idea does indeed sound appealing.

“Heysel. I still need to check the time.” Dorothy is quick to answer. “How much are you ready to pay max?”

“Oh I think I will go by your good judgement.” I say good heartedly.

“Would 150 or 200 euro still be considered reasonable?” Dorothy questions. “But again, do we want to be reasonable?”

“That’s okay.” I nod. “Yeah, let’s totally exaggerate for once. Show them who’s boss.”

“Sure?” Dorothy is excited now. “Thank god you exist! You’re the only person on earth I can call upon to do crazy things. So I can go for it and look for tickets max 200 euro per person?”

“Yeah we rock.” I am happy to confirm.

“And you can be there lets say for 17h30?” Dorothy is going into control freak modus.

“I will do my best.” Is all I can really answer to that.

And that was it. Dorothy set about happily to search the internet for last minute tickets to a concert of her favourite childhood band. I love being part of dreams come true.


What about you? Do you have a dream you are yet to realise? Let me know in the comments below.

* Disclaimer : Any resemblance between the fictional characters in this story and any persons, living or dead, is a miracle by chance more than by choice.



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