John Wegner
Illusions of Intimacy
My phone swooshes, letting me know I have a new text. I don’t like any of the standard notification sounds, but I’m too cheap to pay for anything less annoying. In a perfect world, I’d hear the sound of a shooting arrow and Concorde from Monty Python and the Holy Grail say “Message for you sir,” but most of the people I work with think I’m socially awkward already. No need to prove them right.
I assume the latest swoosh is from my wife about supper. She wants something healthy the kids will eat without complaining. I want Thai noodles or Korean Fried Chicken. We’ll probably settle on Rosa’s Taco Tuesday so we can trick the kids into eating a little lettuce and Spanish Rice with carrots and peas. Raising kids, I’m convinced, is about managing disappointments and reducing tantrums. Trying to make everyone happy is a rookie mistake.
I look away from my work computer, tap my phone, and see a message from my mother instead.
Food will be the least of my problems today.
Mom Wed Apr 16 11:08 AM
We missed you at Easter.
At least your sister called.
I’m not saying she was
pleasant but we heard her
voice. Not sure why you
don’t visit more often, Ray.
Pack your bags, I thought, mom wants to take you on a guilt trip.
We’d taken the kids camping Easter weekend, something I told my mother more than once. Her memory is increasingly selective and her world view set to outrage.
I get back to work and try to ignore her text. Not every journey people invite you on is worth taking.
The past is too much with me, though, and I pick up my phone.
Ray Wed Apr 16 11:15 AM
Do you remember Easter the
year before Kevin died? You
Unpacked your grandmother’s
china plates. Cooked a turkey,
mashed potatoes, green beans.
We didn’t go visit your parents
because you weren’t talking to
them that year. Kevin wore a
bunny suit with one ear that
wouldn’t stand up. I was 7
and too old for Winnie the
Pooh shirts but young enough
to still believe in a magic bunny.
After dinner we played
basketball in the driveway
and Kevin crawled into your
lilies. He was 1 and toddling
around. You took a picture of
him covered in dirt. Dad was
holding him. I have that
photo now. We look like
a normal family.
I stop typing. The cursor blinks. I delete my response and get lost in my spreadsheets.
“We’re not exactly churchly people,” I tell my wife that night after she reads the text from my mother. “Caring about Jesus twice a year isn’t going to balance the ledger. We were more in tune with God hiking in Big Bend Easter Sunday than they’ve ever been.”
Kendra tells me to ignore the text and not respond.
Once my parents learned how to text and created a Facebook account, my mom never stopped typing.
“Your mom believes in illusions of intimacy. The more she texts the more you’ll think she cares so the performance matters more than the content,” Kendra tells me. “Maybe you should block them and save yourself the aggravation.”
Kendra’s parents died when she was in her 20s, and she’s an only child. Familial advice from her is like listening to a priest talk to you about sex.
My phone chimes early the next morning, and I wonder again why I don’t silence it. Life was simpler before answering machines and voicemail. Back then we could ignore a ringing phone and pretend we weren’t home. Sometimes I want to stop the world and get off the merry-go-round.
Mom Thur Apr 17 7:23 AM
I guess you didn’t get my
messages yesterday. Call
your dad. He’s lonely.
Mom Thur Apr 17 8:24 AM
Have you talked to Darla?
I can’t get a hold of her.
Mom Thur Apr 17 9:14 AM
Are you at work? In a meeting?
Too busy to text? I guess you
don’t love us anymore.
Some mothers might add a smiley face to make sure you know they’re joking.
I’m at my desk trying to focus on work, but I spend most of my time mulling over a response while the numbers in front of me go in and out of focus.
Ray Thur April 17 11:32 AM
Do you remember the
Easter after Kevin died?
Dad had “food poisoning”
and was sick all day.
Darla got in trouble for
talking too loud. You had
a black eye. We stayed home
again. Aunt Joyce accused
you of stealing from grandma.
You hung up on grandpa
the night before. Yelled
at the phone. Got red-
Faced. Scary. Mean.
That morning Darla and
I went into the living room
looking for Easter eggs.
Our baskets were on the
ground. Plastic grass
everywhere. No eggs, no
chocolate but plenty of
empty bottles on the table.
You tried to convince us the
Easter Bunny left a note and
was coming tomorrow. Dad
asked when the rabbit
stew would be ready and
laughed when I started
crying. We didn’t play
basketball. Your lilies
died in an early freeze
that year.
I sip my coffee and delete the text. Start typing again.
Ray Thur Apr 17 11:34 AM
The Easter after Kevin died,
Darla was 11. Y’all wouldn’t
let her go to church with her
friend Sheila. Holidays are
for families you told her
even though nobody in
your family was getting
along. Easter grass was
scattered all over the floor.
At lunch, dad threw the
gravy boat against the
wall before knocking his
plate off the table. A week
later, Darla sliced her foot
on a piece of porcelain you
missed. She bled through
her sock at school and
the nurse called home.
Y’all grounded her for
a week for telling them
what happened.
I meet Kendra for lunch at a deli near the office and show her the unsent text.
“You should just call them or go to therapy. You can’t keep fighting these demons typing and deleting texts.”
I erase my text. Sometimes the best battles are ones we never fight.
Saturday morning, I get up early. After our second child was born, we bought five acres outside of town. We wanted privacy and a place to drink coffee where we could watch the sun come up.
Weather permitting, I sit on the deck and enjoy the quiet solitude before the necessary noise of family life begins. Like most of us, I rationalize carrying my phone like an extra appendage. Sometimes Kendra texts me from bed to remind me of soccer games or suggest we have a big country breakfast. She could tell me the same things in person but the best technology helps us confuse efficiency with laziness. The demarcation between being connected and tethered are increasingly blurry these days.
The text this morning is, unfortunately, not from Kendra. Next time we’ll have to buy land where we have no cell reception.
Mom Sat Apr 19 3:34 AM
were not geting any younger
you know is there some
reason you arent answering
your mothers texts
REMEMBER WHERE
YOU CAME FROM WERE
YOUR FAMILY WEATHER
YOU LIKE IT OR NOT
My dad doesn’t have a cell phone. He says he prefers the landline, but mostly he wants an excuse to avoid talking to people. Every once in a while, though, he’ll take my mom’s phone and text.
A podcast I listen to had an episode on the Infinite Monkey Theory not long ago. Basically, the idea is that a thousand chimps hitting typewriter keys could, given enough time, write a Shakespearean play. My dad’s texting calls that statistical theory into question. I doubt a thousand people could randomly generate anything he writes, much less a bunch of monkeys.
Before retiring, he spent 32 years working for Dow Chemical checking flanges, pumps, and other equipment that kept him outside and out of the office. Guys he started with got promoted or found better work after a few years. I think he needed the solitude of working alone more than a cushier job or forming lasting relationships. He wasn’t one to attend company picnics or stop at the bar for a cold one after work. When he retired, there was no party.
For about a year after he retired, he volunteered for Habitat for Humanity. At his best, he’s a decent carpenter and electrician. At his worst, he says something he thinks is funny that the rest of us don’t.
These days he spends his time watching the news or piddling around in the garage “sorting buckets of old nails and keeping away from mom,” Darla says.
He’s certainly not spending his free time working on his writing skills or paying attention to the all caps button.
I reread the text and sip my coffee. There are deer on the fence line, eating berries off the eastern red cedars. A couple of rabbits scurry around by the deck. The sun peeks above the tree line.
Everyone else is still asleep. I try to keep his message from disturbing the quiet, but the past rolls in like thunder through the hills. I start typing.
Ray Sat Apr 19 7:28 AM
I remember standing on a
driveway with a push
broom in my hands
watching you and mom
fight. You told us we had
4 yards to mow that
day. It was March or
early April and you’d
decided to start a yard
business on the side.
Darla was dragging
a black hefty bag
filled with leaves.
You said something
loud enough that
Mr. Johnson stood on his
driveway staring at us.
Kevin was 2 and playing in
the bed of the truck. No one
was watching him when he
climbed on top of the tailgate.
I delete my message and forward his text to Darla.
Ray Sat Apr 19 7:45 AM
What the hell am I supposed
to do with this? Have you
seen them lately?His text
makes as much sense as
Game Theory after
smoking a doobie.
(Sophomore year but don’t
tell the kids I didn’t
Just Say No.)
Darla Sat Apr 19 8:02 AM
I had lunch with her the other
day. She started complaining
about “the illegals and
libtards in the media.” I
reminded her I was an
immigration lawyer and
married to a man named
Jose. I haven’t talked to
dad in months.
Kendra walks over with a cup of coffee and sees my phone.
“Tell Darla I said hello.”
I put my phone face down. Out of sight but not out of mind.
I feel sympathy for my mom. She was the oldest of nine children by a wide margin and spent most of her teenage years raising her siblings.
Her father was an alcoholic. He was emotionally distant but always within swinging distance. His words carried farther and could hit harder, she told us at his funeral.
“Sounds familiar,” Darla whispered to me.
Still, she was a good mother-in-law to Kendra and a better grandmother than mother. To both their credits, they never missed the kids’ birthdays. The kids think PawPaw’s a grump but harmless, but there’s a fine line between grouchy and asshole. At least he hasn’t crossed it with them yet.
I realize a few days later that I never answered his text. Or hers. Life’s difficult enough without courting problems so I think about mending a fence or two and text Darla.
Ray Thur May 1 6:45 PM
Mother’s Day? I haven’t
said anything to the parents
yet, but Kendra thinks it
might be nice to go over.
You up for it?
Darla Thur May 1 8:30 PM
Can we insist they leave
the TV off? Jose definitely
won’t go but I can come by
with the kids in the early
afternoon. Churches’ Fried
Chicken? It’ll be work
enough showing up. No
way I’m also cooking.
I put the phone down and make a drink Kendra watches me from the sofa. Puts her magazine down.
“Liquid courage? It’s a text, Ray. Just press the buttons and ask. Your mom will be happy we’re all coming over.”
I take the last sip of my bourbon, lift the glass, and rattle the ice at Kendra. When we were dating, my dad did something similar and she told him “your legs aren’t broken and I’m not your servant.” I’ve loved her since.
She laughs and walks out of the room while I pour another finger into the glass.
“My mom would have at least handed me the bottle,” I joke as she turns the corner.
“Do you really want me to be like your mom?” I hear her say as the bedroom door closes.
I’ve put off texting as long as possible and start typing before I can find a reason not to.
Ray Thur May 1 8:41 PM
Darla and I would like to
bring some chicken over
on Mother’s Day. Will you
guys be around?
Mom Thur May 1 8:42 PM
Where else would we be?
Is everyone coming? Need
to know so dad puts on
some Pants. :)
Ray Thur May 8:42 PM
Ha. Please be clothed.
Everyone but Jose. He’ll
be out of town. Looking
forward to it.
Mom Thur May 1 8:45 PM
home to mexico hope he
keeps his green card handy
and doesnt try to smuggle
any relatives over your
mom says to be nice but im
jokeing NOONE CAN TAKE
A JOKE any more
I forward the messages to Darla.
Ray Thur May 1 8:51 PM
We’re set for Mother’s
Day. For better or worse.
Darla Fri May 2 6:37 AM
They’re like paint and
turpentine. If one of them
does something nice, the
other thins it out.
There is no fine china, but mom has plates out on various placemats Darla and I made in school. The kids enjoy seeing our primitive, pre-digital media artwork. Mom shows the younger ones how to make a turkey with their hands.
Darla brings the fried chicken, and Kendra and I pick up sides and a pie from HEB.
“Seeing her grandchildren will be gift enough,” I tell Kendra when she asks about a present. She brings her flowers anyway.
After we’re home, I’m watching the Rangers blow another lead to the Blue Jays wondering what Darla’s thinking about the day.
Ray Sun May 11 7:07 PM
That went surprisingly
well. Felt Like we were
a normal family and
everything.
Darla Sun May 11 7:09 PM
Yeah. They aren’t
half bad sometimes.
Helped that the kids took
dad outside and kept him
off any screens. I haven’t
seen him dribble a
basketball in years. Jose
doesn’t believe me when I
tell him dad was all-state.
Ray Sun May 11 7:10 PM
The shorter the visit, the
better. Maybe things are
getting better. He seemed
almost sober?
Darla Sun May 11 7:15 PM
Maybe. I’m betting
not but I want to bask in the
normalcy and not over
think it.
On Father’s Day, Kendra and Darla surprise Jose and I with a weekend trip to cabins outside of Concan. Our shared deck is about 20 feet from the Frio River. During the day we float and play with the kids. In the evenings we sit on the deck, enjoy a beer or two, and watch the kids play.
We try to call dad but the service is bad.
The next morning, Darla and I remember that we’d been here as teenagers. There was an algae covered flume about half a mile away. We’d spent most of the day sliding into the river, and dad grilled some fish he’d caught that morning.
We don’t tell Kendra and Jose that we got kicked out the next day when dad got in a fight with the couple staying nearby. Their music was too loud. Or the wrong kind. We couldn’t remember the details, just the embarrassment.
Kendra and Jose have learned not to ask questions when we talk about the past, and Darla and I have vowed to keep things light when we travel. The devil is in the details and sometimes it’s best to leave him there and paint the scene in broad strokes.
“We need to live where we’re standing, especially if we’re paying this much for a room,” Darla said a few years ago when our families met down on the River Walk in San Antonio.
Kendra and Jose, I know, appreciate the effort.
“All families are psychotic,” Jose said once when we started talking about our parents, but “allí esu el detalle, here’s the rub, your parents are totalamente loco. Don’t tell your dad I spoke Spanish to you, though. He might think I corrompido a su hija.”
On our way home, somewhere close to Kerrville, my phone blows up with missed messages. The kids are asleep in the backseat. Kendra reads some of the texts out loud.
Mom Sun June 15 12:01 PM
I can’t believe you haven’t
called. He does care you
know.
Mom Sun June 15 3:33 PM
He’s napping but at least
one of his kids should call.
Mom Sun June 15 5:02 PM
Its bad enough you don’t
show up or call but not
even a text.
There are a variety of other texts in similar fashion.
We get home, sunburned and tired. The kids are tucked in, and Kendra is asleep on the couch. I’m trying to relax with a beer and a ball game on tv. Nothing wears you out more than a weekend away.
Even after a 6–pack and another Ranger’s loss, I can’t get mom’s texts out of my head.
Ray Sun June 15 9:45 PM
I guess you got all those
texts too. Who knew he’d
care?
Darla Sun June 15 9:46 PM
We were celebrating Father’s
Day. You and Jose are fathers
who deserve celebrating. Is
he?
I want to live more of my life on vacation and less in my head. Without thinking, I start typing to mom.
Ray Sun June 15 11:01 PM
Do you remember the Father’s
Day when Kevin was one. We
went to a Rangers game. They
had Nolan Ryan Bobbleheads.
Kevin bit the head off. We
laughed. You called him your
little Ozzy Osbourne. I missed
the joke at the time and you
explained why y’all were
laughing. A couple years
after Kevin died, we thought
going to a game might help.
Dad’s sad, you told us. We
saved money, made him
a card and bought tickets.
You let us pretend like we
paid for everything. The card
had “Popcorn money.” Dad
bought beer instead. Drove
home. You let him.
I think about calling Darla, but there’s no reason to ruin her mood, also. I delete my text and go to bed.
The next morning, I text from the parking garage before going into the office.
Ray Mon June 16 8:02 AM
Happy Father’s Day. Sorry
We missed talking. We were
all in Concan. The trip
was last minute. Do you
remember that place with
the flume? Our cabin was
near there. Hope y’all did
something fun.
Mom Mon June 16 8:45 AM
Dad said to tell you thank
you. Maybe next year he
can see y’all. Was that the
year Darla got the fish
hook caught in her ear?
Mom Mon June 16 8:48 AM
i didnt say thanks to
anything you and darla
made you point do
whatever i hope the
grand kids had fun the
fishing was good at
that spot
No one answers when I call.
“I was going to invite them downtown for lunch. I guess I feel a little bad,” I tell Kendra on the phone. “Maybe Darla would meet us for a late Father’s Day?”
They keep not answering their phone or responding to my texts.
Parties and summer sports keep us busy enough to miss the passing of time.
Mom texts an aggressively patriotic meme that doesn’t mean what she thinks on July 4th. No mention of the 5 or 6 texts I sent in mid-June.
“I guess they’re ready to grace you with their presence again,” Kendra says when I show her the text.
We’re able to engage in enough small talk to keep the peace for a while. Things go back to normal.
Mom Wed Aug 6 3:05 PM
Dad fell again. Some
stranger called 911.
We’re at the emergency
room. The paramedics
smelled his breath and
told him to go to the
emergency room or
they’d call the police.
He would have been
fine at home. I don’t
know why anyone trusts
doctors anyway. Them
and the insurance companies
want us to stay sick so they
can make more money.
“At least she didn’t ask you to come down there,” Kendra says when I tell her. She pauses. “I wonder if Darla’s there?”
Ray Thur Aug 7 7:15 AM
Have you gotten an
update?
Darla Thur Aug 7 7:45 AM
I guess I should have
told you. I blocked her
last week. Mom posted a
Facebook meme showing
a lawyer with a noose on
his neck and a guy in a
MAGA hat holding the
other end. Dad liked a
post by someone calling
Mexicans “chili-chompers.”
I can’t handle the toxicity
anymore and there’s no
way I’m letting our children
anywhere near them. He’s
half in the bag by noon and
mom’s too old to babysit the
kids by herself. God knows
what she says to them.They
fight all the time now. There’s
too many years of this to
ignore anymore.
Her text comes while I’m driving. Siri skips the “chili.” AI is more polite than my parents.
When I get to my desk, I turn on my computer, check today’s tasks and meeting schedule, but those compartmentalized and repressed memories won’t stay in their designated space today.
I respond to Darla.
Ray Thur Aug 7 8:33 AM
Sometimes I worry the seeds
of his anger have taken root.
I hear his voice in my head
when I yell at the kids or
when Kendra does some
little thing I shouldn’t be
upset about. The struggle
is real. I’d consider
therapy but introspection
is overrated.
Darla Thur Aug 7 8:34 AM
Hold tight little brother.
We don’t have to be
them. The sins of the
father can stay with him.
Sometimes the best we can
do is not be them.
How, I wonder, do we not become who we are raised to be?
I focus on my computer, hoping to lose myself in datasets.
Mom Fri Aug 8 8:47 PM
They’re keeping dad one
more night. The doctor said
the stranger who called saved
his life. Let Darla know if you
want.
Ray Fri Aug 8 9:13 PM
I wish that stranger had been
there when Kevin fell out of
the truck.
I hit send without thinking and hand my phone to Kendra.
She reads the text.
She taps the screen a couple times and holds my hand while I wonder why I’m not more upset.
Mom
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John Wegner has published creative works, including Love is Not a Dirty Word & Other Stories (Lamar UP,) and scholarship discussing Cormac McCarthy, Nathaniel Hawthorne, & other writers who write sentences he wishes he could. Blissfully devoid of all social media platforms, he teaches all online so he and his wife can travel across the US as often as possible.
