“Try Belgium, US and UK,” the Mentalist tells me the next day.
“Oh but Belgium too? Ok,” I agree as I update the settings to my Facebook ad. “You know I blogged about my missing papers and stuff? She sent me a message that day that she still has her marriage book and that my name is in it. Funny. She is popping in in a minute to wish my Lilly a happy birthday. How are you? Having fun on Halloween?”
“Is it Halloween?” the Mentalist asks as a true recluse. “Try not to react to anything. It will throw her off balance.”
“Yes,” I agree.
A little later my mother has arrived at my home. As she is playing nicely with my littles I pick up the phone to make a quick conspiratorial call with the Mentalist. “Guess what, she wants to change the date again,” I half whisper down the phone as I am standing in my own kitchen. “Remember she cancelled last minute last time, then set a new date, and now she wants to change again. Because she has made another appointment. I just smiled and said we will see. Because there is no way I am moving the effing date again. Going for a cigarette now.”
“Enjoy,” the Mentalist smiles back at me down the phone.
“She is still here,” I hiss at him having made my way through the living room to the outdoor covered terrace where I like to enjoy a naughty smoke. “So it is a game then to meet up for drinks? I can have champagne anytime I want. And not particularly interested in talking to her. So if she wants to move it again, fiiiine.”
“Yes just relax,” the Mentalist susses me to calmness. “It’s just a negotiation. Agree to a date that works for you too.”
“Effing eff eff eff,” I curse under my breath. And them more calmly: “Okay.”
“Tea time?” the Mentalist suggests a cup of tea as the answer and solution to everything.
“Yessss,” I cheer as I peer over my shoulder into my living room. “She is gone.”
“Did you give her tea and biscuit?” the Mentalist wants to know if I kept up my good manners despite my ill feelings.
“Just before she left I smiled and asked whether I should delete the appointment of the 19th then, she said yes and so I did right in front of her,” I am happy to tell him I can put on a good show when I want to. “All with an effing smile.”
“Good,” the Mentalist agrees.
“Yes she had tea and cake, and she left with a bag of clothes too small for Lilly,” I tell him she wasn’t done without and didn’t leave empty handed.
“Cool,” the Mentalist encourages me. “No fighting? You did well.”
“Hate the old hag,” I admit reluctantly.
“I know,” the Mentalist comforts me knowing it isn’t entirely true.
“She also wanted to know if I was ill because I had lost weight,” I inform him of the snide comments she made.
“Backhanded compliment,” the Mentalist laughs out loud.
“Really?” I ask him in disbelief.
“Yes at least she noticed so you must look great,” the Mentalist points out the obvious.
“Haha fantastic,” I now feel free to join in the laughter too. Oh my, she is a card, my mother, don’t you agree?
What do you think of when you hear the word psychopath? You’re probably imagining serial killers or the bad guy from a movie, a book or a TV series. But what if there are also light psychopaths? They don’t commit murder and they actually present themselves as very ordinary people, but they have a destructive effect on their environment. Maybe you are wondering about your interfering neighbour, or your dictatorial team lead, or the ex-partner who knows how to get under your skin?
In love & light,