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(Continued from NEEDLE EXCHANGE PT. 4)
It often seems that my married with children ‘existence’ has degenerated from one ghastly film reenactment to another. If it isn’t my husband George and I living the boozy, abusive antics of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, than it’s Ethan and I who are now living our own Los Feliz-based version of Mildred Pierce, where Ethan is the mature and devoted mother played by Joan Crawford, and I’m the spoiled little rich-bitch daughter, Vida.
The day I took Ethan to our family physician after bathing in Dr. Yi’s fountain of bought-and-paid-for youth, I instantly watched Ethan go from playing headstrong and fearless Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce, to playing weepy, wheelchair-bound victim Joan Crawford in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane. In our Baby Jane scenario, I naturally assumed the role of creepy Jane, originally played by Bette Davis, as it was I who had to wrestle Ethan to the ground to get him to take his shot. From the cries and shrieks that emanated from the claustrophobic examination room, I’m certain the poor schnooks in the reception area concluded that not only were we punching and kicking Ethan but were performing some kind terrifying exorcism. As the inoculation was administered, the pain registered on Ethan’s taught face, and he shot me a plaintive, heartbreaking look. Fresh tears cascaded down my own cheeks. Of course I wasn’t sure I was crying because of the pain I’d caused my son, or whether my freshly ‘plumped’ and ‘rejuvenated’ eyes were somehow leaking the expensive elixir administered by new BFF, Dr. Yi.
I’ll let my shrink figure that one out.
As we left our family doctor’s valley office and walked to our car, I took my son into my arms and held him tightly as he wrapped his arms and legs around me and pinned his damp, tear stained face against my puffy, freakishly youthful one. He tried to be brave, but I could tell that he was still crying softly. I whispered in his ear that he was the bravest soldier I had ever known, and was incredibly proud that he had not deserted his post despite enemy fire, medical atrocities, and torture. As his small body finally relaxed and melted into mine, I told my comrade-in-arms that I loved him more than anyone or anything. As the sun set in bourgeoisie Sherman Oaks, my heart swelled for I suddenly realized that Ethan and I weren’t reenacting a scene from BORN ON THE FOURTH OF JULY, SAVING PRIVATE RYAN, or BAND OF BROTHERS. He and I had become brothers-in-arms, who despite debilitating injuries clung to each other behind enemy lines.
“sweety darling” your life sounds like a chapter out of Edina and Saffy’s day!
If only it were that interesting! “Names sweetie, Names!”
“La Croix sweetie, La Croix”