Apocalypse of Jude

“Did you tell Old Mrs Equitone that I was coming?”

Mae nods, fingers rubbing round the wine glass stem.

“It’s really important that I read your tarot tonight. Very weird things are going on in my cards.”

Her mother’s voice is hushed, her hands on the table flattening out the cloth in an urgent manner. Mae sighs, wishing she didn’t have to be reminded of all that must soon happen.

“Mother, we’ve decided that we would talk about that later. Right now I just want to have a great dinner and hear you complaining how you can’t possibly celebrate Christmas with no snow, and telling me how I should give up smoking.”

She pulls out a cigarette.

“I did the honour of ensuring a smoking table while I was waiting for you in the lobby for twenty minutes.”

“I can’t believe they still allow that here. You’ve got to get out of this backward place, as beautiful as it is.”

Mae grins conspiratorially.

“Come on Mom. Light up with me for old time’s sake.”

Fiddling with a large agate ring on her finger, the woman pulls an aghast face.

“I don’t know where you get your impertinence from. Oh, I forgot. From that long lost father of yours.”

“Mom!” Mae slaps her free hand down softly on the edge of the table.

“This is me. Just let it go will you and let’s talk.”

Her mother breathes deeply, and let’s her shoulder’s relax.

“Okay. You’re right. Anyway, so how is your father? Making lots of money and raising horrid kids? No doubt they’re singing sweetly in church choirs. How old are they now?”

“Pre-pubescent bordering on zit explosions.”

“Ah, now there’s a touch of acridity that comes from me.”

Mae folds her arms, mouth half agape, and just shakes her head.

“Do you often do that?”

The surprise on the woman’s face is genuine.

“Do what?”

“Spend your time dissecting my various anatomical and psychological parts and dividing them between you and Dad.”

The woman puts her hand open against her breast.

“How can you say that. It makes it sound like you were split with the estate when we were divorced.”

Mae exhales. “Excuse me, I think I was.”

The clairvoyant woman breathes deep again.

“Okay, I think we’ve just hit another topic of conversation that is off limits. No talk of the divorce and you, okay. You’ve made your ground rules. I’ve made mine now. Got it?”

Mae’s face is scarlet but she backs down, letting the angry blood pacify.

“So tell me what your father’s been doing?”

“Building up his family dynasty by building hotels like the one you’re staying in for one thing.”

Her mother slows her breath sharply as if the architectural design is somehow contaminated.

“I’m not going to be able to sleep.”

“You’ll have a hard time finding anything that doesn’t have his finger in it somewhere. Maybe a bread and breakfast.”

“Oh now, how quaint. No, here will be fine. On the sea front. It’s really beautiful. And look at that moon hanging over it.”

A tall waiter, impeccably dressed, slides alongside their table and effortlessly places plates before them rolling their names with a smooth tongue.

“May I offer to pour your wine now?”

“Do you speak French as well as you introduce our food?”

He smiles politely. “No ma’am. Shall I?”

His hand is offering the wine bottle from out of hand.

“Of course.”

He moves with dexterity pouring from both their right sides.

“That’s hardly full if you don’t mind me saying.”

Mae looks abashed at the brashness of her mother. His reply is first austere.

“Etiquette requires that I only fill the glass so far.”

And then with a subtle humour. “It also allows one to get one’s nose deep into the glass and enjoy the bouquet without getting one’s nose wet. I trust you’ll enjoy the entrée.”

He moves off with the same glide with which he appeared. Both of them burst out laughing.

“Mom, you’re so impertinent. You see. It does come from you.”

“Yes, yes, you were talking about your father and his business.”

Mae hangs her head for a moment, the humour going out of her. She looks up, angry.

“He has a new heir apparent. My father apparently still has a son-in-law even though his daughter no longer has a husband.”

The surprise allows no words to pass from her mother’s mouth.

“And I haven’t begun to tell you half of what’s been unfolding.”

Wasteland Mix: Fragment 22