Carlota and Sigmund agreed to disagree. She was surprised how civilized they could be when they wanted. Divorce had ameliorated their relations; they were no longer uncooperative extensions of themselves. What a difference from the early days of their marriage when, if he was unresponsive and put up the old masks, she'd fly into a rage only exhaustion, total physical and emotional fatigue, could stop.

 

Once, they had gotten into it over something she couldn't even recall, maybe an unbalanced checkbook, who knows. She had grabbed his favorite tie and a pair of scissors and Sigmund had grabbed a piece of her mother's Waterford crystal. They had circled the living room, crouching like grapplers, holding up the objects of ransom, threatening  to destroy the other's property. Without words, they negotiated a cease and desist, simultaneously and slowly releasing their object-victims to the safety of coffee table neutrality.

 

Another time she remembered was years ago, twelve now, when she was pregnant with Genesis and they had been scuffling awkwardly on the floor for some minutes, not doing any real damage, pulling hair mostly. Somebody rang the doorbell and they had stopped. They had answered the door and acted as if nothing had happened.

 

Lately she had been feeling bad. Fat, particularly. She had gained about thirty pounds since her mother died a year ago and she found herself comparing herself to other women all the time.  At the office, at church, wherever groups of women were gathered, there she would spend an inordinate amount of time staring at their thighs or waists and wondering if she looked better or worse than they. She didn't pass a mirror or window pane without checking herself out. At night she would look at her naked body under the covers and grab the rolls as she turned on her side. Exercise with Jane didn't help like ten years ago when she could do a little and notice the difference.

 

Two nights ago she had a dream that she and Genesis were walking along in a crowded supermarket. Genesis had the patch and glasses she had worn on her right eye for the estrabismus she had when she was a little kid. Carlota held her by the hand and kept swatting her on the head for no real reason, just her own frustration. She couldn't stop herself and Genesis looked so hurt, vulnerable and little. Carlota woke up sobbing. She remembered all the times she wasn't a good mom and she ached inside. She groaned out loud, asking God to please help her learn to forgive herself for a past she couldn't change.

 

This morning Sigmund was coming over after breakfast to take Genesis fishing. She was glad to help her prepare the tackle and pack her sandwiches and fruit. She stuck in some extra cookies and chips, and a bag of Hershey kisses.

 

After they left, she wrote down the dream, realizing the Genesis of her dream was her self, the vulnerable part she abused. She felt less guilty and was surprised she had known what to pray for so instinctively. She pulled out the exercise tape and went to work, crying during the leg lifts and letting the tears just flow.