“That Bastard Had His Back To The Ocean. Who Does That?”

I was accused of a cruel act because I faced the wrong way. I left the water’s edge, went to a grassy area on a hill above a beach, and sat at a park table. I began to write, looking at the green hills instead of the blue water.

Apparently, I’d broken some kind of law. And my daughter-in-law was judge and jury.

In my defence, I wasn’t aware such a law existed. I pleaded ignorance. I did. I didn’t know there were rules. I was sorry. Honest, I apologised to the ocean as soon as I found out. I wanted to fix everything so the ocean and I could return to living in harmony.

I must admit, I’m way too cavalier towards oceans these days. I paid homage to an ocean every day when I lived on Last Laugh. Today, I live near an ocean. The big blue has been a regular part of my life for almost three decades. I don’t feel I need to face it to know it’s there anymore, and that’s careless.

Good grief.

Who was this vicious super beast conjuring up frivolous laws on the fly? Does the ocean have feelings? Did I really hurt them by sitting the wrong way?

No! I’m not playing that stupid game!

It’s a great child story in the hands of an adult nutcase, isn’t it?

And nothing she said had anything to do with the ocean anyway.

It was about her. I didn’t validate her, but I didn’t do that. My walking up the hill was committing an evil act. Facing the wrong way sealed it. She seethed over that demonic event for months when, one day, a bizarre outburst revealed what’d been going on inside that blackened mind of hers.

“That bastard had his back to the ocean. Who does that?” was all she had. Poor thing. She must’ve relived that moment every day, measuring and conjuring up the right words to use when it came time to say something about it.

Other things were blurted out. Something about Margo and I driving to an unapproved beach (her unapproved beach) and others too ridiculous to repeat. All pointed to a deep sense of insecurity. When the Queen loses control of her subjects, Her Majesty loses her fricken mind.

The weather was perfect that day. The kids were laughing and having fun. Everyone was having a great time. At least, I thought everyone was. She saw me turn away, and that triggered the fury. Her day was completely ruined. The wheels of indignation turned from that moment forward.

Frankly, I’m too old to worry about the fragile egos of insecure people anymore, daughter-in-laws included. I stopped dancing for neurotics years ago. Nothing is gained by doing it. Good energy is wasted on them (and they don’t give any of it back!).

I feel bad for her husband, my partner’s boy. He has to live with that drama every day. But that’s his problem to endure. She was his choice, and he must live with that. My choice is not to live with his problems. I haven’t the time nor the emotional room for them. Neither does his mother.

Other parents must go through this type of crap, too, right?

Who else has watched their kid marry a control freak and then see them set themselves up for a life full of emotional depravity and psychological abuse in the name of love?

-Michael Forman (Author of Dark Fiction)

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