Chapter 12: Operation Keep PT Down: My Mother Comes to Town and Someone Plays an Awful Prank on Her (Who Does That to a Mother?)

My mother came to town to help me find a new place of my own. She asked me, “Ssal, you helped your father take care of me when I needed it. You never asked for anything since you left home as a teenager. Please, I’m asking you, won’t you please accept my help?”

So I accepted. One of the biggest mistakes of my life was thinking that I could do it alone. The irony was that soon, I needed a lot of help, and it simply was not forthcoming.

My mother came to town on a weekend a few days before her birthday. Her first priority was finding me a place. I got an Extended Stay and asked her if she was willing to meet Steve on her birthday dinner. She had never met any of my friends for a long time, so she said, yes.

Steve helped me move into the Extended Stay; I hadn’t many possessions, most had been shipped home to Texas several, several months ago. He left, so I could have mother-daughter time with her. Steve also wanted father-son time with Alan, as he was sending Alan home to Kentucky. Steve had gotten a rush of inspiration and wanted to clear his house so that he could get back on track. Alan was getting into trouble at school, wasn’t doing anything at home beyond playing video games. He had wanted to fight his father when he found out that he was being sent home but had got his butt kicked the last time he attacked Steve, which was on the day of Steve’s motorbike accident.

What kind of a family was this, All My Children?

I picked my mother up at LAX, she walked to baggage claim with the resolution of a mother with a mission. I was finally on my way again. My blood pressure was at its best in my entire life: 96/55. I was stable.

I brought my mother back to the hotel, we unpacked her and rested. Immediately, my mother started looking for an apartment for me on the Internet. I asked her if she wanted to visit with any distant family or friends in the area and she said, “No, I’m here to find you a new place to stay.” So we drove around different neighborhoods looking for vacancy signs. We took down almost two dozen phone numbers and addresses.

Next morning was work and my mother helped me get ready. Just like old times. She unpacked a plastic bag that contained my black sandals that I had kept at Steve’s in the bedroom. While I was dressing, my mother called out by the closet.

“What—honey,” her voice rose, “Ssal!”

I rushed over. My mother’s hands were bright red with a light dusting of white powder. She started scratching them, rubbing them together. “It hurts!” she cried.

“Wash them, don’t scratch them, it’ll only make it worse,” I directed my mother to the bathroom sink. I do not know why I told her that. It seemed as if there was some chemical on my mother’s hand. I could not fathom what, as I had worn those shoes just last week. What the heck could make my mother’s skin burn so quickly?

The water washed the irritation away. We looked inside the bag.

“Don’t touch it, Mom,” I knew some allergic substance was in the bag and I wanted to know what. More importantly, why. Steve’s house of characters was building into a game of Clue, and I was not amused that my mother was the victim of some harmful prank.

I Googled “Itching powder” and found that the white powder on my mother’s hands was among the most caustic of itching powder. I was pissed and texted Steve.

Steve’s text: Really?

My text: Really. Who would’ve put itching powder in the shoes I wear to work?

Steve: Not sure.

We met briefly after I finished my depo and before I returned to the hotel to take my mom out to dinner.

“That wasn’t funny. Who would come into your place and put itching powder in my shoes? The bag was tied. It wasn’t an accident.” I demanded.

Steve shook his head, “Maybe it was Macy. He’s kind of funny that way. he’s real intense, you know?”

“You mean he’s got a crush on you?”

“I dunno, yeah, I think so. He has girlfriends you know but I kind of get the idea that he likes me, too.” Steve admitted. I shook my head.

“So he’s jealous of me, you’re saying?” it was time for a talk with Macy.

“I don’t know. Yeah, could be.”

“Could it be your son? You said Alan doesn’t like any of the women in your life.” It had to be asked.

“Yeah, but he likes you. You’re the first one he likes. I know he’s angry at me for so many things but it’s such a childish thing, I mean my son isn’t indirect like that. Macy, maybe.”

And yet, neither of us was certain that it was either of the two. The just didn’t seem to be that sneaky.

I returned to the hotel. My mother had called all the places whose numbers we had collected the previous day. Damn, my mother could move when she wanted to. I followed up on several promising apartment complexes and left messages. I never reached a live person for some reason. We went to dinner afterward.

I never received any replies to any of my messages. My mother continued searching for apartments online. We called many more, maybe received one or two replies from apartments that were in sketchy parts of town. After the third day, my mother asked, “Why is it so hard to find an apartment in LA?”

“I don’t have good credit history or a lengthy employment history, Mom,”

“Yeah, but virtually no one is returning my initial phone call, plus I’m giving them my credit information.” Yeah, I felt sad and pathetic. That’s why my Mom asked my permission to allow her to help me.

My mother did have a point. I don’t remember it being that hard to even get a response. I hadn’t even gotten to the credit check or application phase. However, my mind was on other things, such as talking to Macy. I was my mother’s birthday the next day, and I would be picking Steve up for dinner with my mother. Perfect time to speak with Macy.

I was talking with Steve on the phone, planning where we were going to take my mother for dinner.

“Isn’t it weird that you sent home your son today but Macy is still living with you? I’d be pissed off if I were your son,” I said.

“Yeah, I have no idea when he’s leaving. Trying to figure something to get him out of my place. I need to be alone for peace.”

“Completely alone?” I asked.

“Well, yeah, you’re always welcome,” Steve laughed.

“Remember to shower, please” I reminded.

“Dude, I’ve been so busy running around all day,” he protested.

“Exactly my point.” Is asking someone to shower before they meet my mother for her birthday dinner really asking too much?

When my mother and I arrived at Steve’s for dinner, a car pulled up. We were parked on the northwest corner facing west as usual. The car was driving south, parked right in front of Roger’s place. It was Macy and his father. Steve came out to meet him and I waited by my car. Steve talked to Macy’s father, they hugged, and Macy and his father started taking Macy’s things from Steve’s place in the back out to their car. What a coincidence. Same day that Alan went home to Kentucky.

“What’s going on?” my mother was impatient.

“Steve’s son’s friend who had been temporarily staying with Steve is leaving. It was sudden. Let’s just wait a few more minutes, Mom.”

Steve walked over.  He smelled of something fierce and cheap. I sniffed. And started laughing before I could accuse him of wearing some cheap cologne.

“Wha--” I was choking on my laughs, “Wha-what the--” this was too expected, “What are you wearing, you idiot?” Steve was laughing at me laughing so hard.

“I-I--it’s Axe,” he could barely get through his laughs we were bent over laughing so hard.

“Tha-tha--” I was gasping, “That commercial??” I couldn’t believe it. You know, the one where there’s this hunk who’s walking around and all of a sudden an angel falls from the skies. She a gorgeous model with wings, and lands like the terminator in Terminator Part 1, on one knee, the other bent, and both hands on the ground with a resounding “WHUMP” as if a boulder landed from the heavens.  

And then the angel gets up slowly and oohs and awes over the hunk. And then another angel falls from the skies with a “Whump!” and slowly walks over to the hunk as if on a mission from God, joining the other one in caressing this guy’s hair and sniffing his skin as if he were a marvel--all because he’s wearing Axe for men. Then the voice over booms “Angels will fall…”

“You’re wearing Axe? Are you an idiot? I knew you would do something this stupid but Axe? Really?” I couldn’t stop laughing because I was trying to stifle my laughs and my mother was growing impatient in the car.

“Ssal, it’s getting late. I’m hungry.” my mother called from the car.

“You gotta’ take your own car. You’re going to smother us, how much did you put on?”

“I—I don’t know, I don’t usually wear perfume,” Steve was laughing so loudly that my mother felt ignored.

“Go-go wash it off first. Didn’t you shower?”

“Yeah, but I—you got me concerned--”

“Just go, go!” I shooed him off, “I’ll meet you at Ichiban.” Ugh, leave it to Steve to make things worse than they had to be. At least that’s what people thought. So many bad luck coincidences happened to Steve that people figured that it must be his fault. Just due to proximity.