She plopped down into the faux leather chair directly across from me at the chain bookstore. No sooner than she’d settled in with the baggy full of pretzels and a giant Sonic drink did her cell phone begin to ring. Me, I would have taken this conversation outside. She, however, ignored my presence, oblivious to my significance or disregarding it. It was as if I was invisible. She was at the center of this Universe.
“He cheated on a test?” she asked in her best Roseann Barr loud nasily voice. “Boots, I have to tell you every kid in America has cheated on a test.”
Whaa-whaa-whaa on the other end.
“Hush! Everybody does it at some point.”
“Punishment? Two weeks for an 11 year old is too much. Tell Phil to get out his belt and put it to his behind. He’ll remember that.”
“Did he get kicked out of school? Boots, this a troubled kid. Somebody is going to have to sit on him. Boots, my faith is in you. You are my daughter.”
“He’s acting out for some reason, and it may be because his daddy left. How would you have felt if your daddy had left and moved in with another woman?”
At that point I had had enough of Boots and her momma’s conversation about the “troubled kid.” I went over to Momma, grabbed up the cell phone and threw it across the store to the self-help aisle.
P.S. You didn’t think I really did that, did you? That’s what Scotty said I ought to have done. Instead, I was the quiet observer—the one who goes home to blog.