Guilty

“Don’t you feel bad?”

Yes. Of course I do. About anything and everything. I don’t work hard enough. I haven’t ever changed the oil in my lawnmower – I didn’t even consider that it should be done. I didn’t get the garbage cans out early enough today and the truck had to come back later. I didn’t email M immediately after hearing about the earthquake. I haven’t talked to Cousin about dinner plans this week. I keep Sprout locked in the guest room most of the time.

“Not really.” I answered in response to the final complaint. “I don’t have anywhere else to keep Sprout – I hadn’t planned on getting a cat, and wanted to take care of him.”

“But he wants out! To spend time with people.” Mom insisted, giving me a sad stare. The guilt is effortless.

“You should have left him outside.” Dad commented with a bite in his voice. “If you’re just going to keep him imprisoned.”

My father is overwhelmingly critical at times, though I think he means well. Everything is stupid and negative and wrong. And if I attempt to argue? He threatens to go home. He doesn’t have to tolerate people snapping at him. Heaven forbid, I think with a roll of my eyes as I fall silent. Keep the peace. Swallow my retorts even when I know he’s wrong. Accept the irritation myself rather than having him deal with it.

Mom, on the other hand, tries much harder to be accepting of my decisions. She hasn’t once brought up relationships, though there has been email about what people at work have tried. How they’ve met appropriate Christian men who spend minimal time online. But I’ve allowed Chienne to become painfully spoiled. I’m not doing well by Sprout – she talked to Dad’s sister and she might take him.

I felt my throat tighten at the thought of losing the pretty cat. Had to face the decision about what was best for him versus letting go of a creature I love. I didn’t want him – I admit that freely. I don’t know how this is all going to work – he and the dog don’t get along particularly well, though it’s slightly better now than before. But give him to a woman I haven’t seen in years? One I don’t recall being anything other than abrasive? No. I can’t do that.

“She lost her cat.” Mom said. “We were over one night getting papers signed for Uncle Ray’s estate and she’d just returned from vacation. The cat wouldn’t come home and they kept calling and calling him. It was awful – I felt so badly for her.”

Sympathy tugged at me as well – it’s hard to lose a pet. And I looked at Mom and understand where her thoughts are going – she saw a pain and remembered it. That’s lovely. She sees a cat I’m not able to give enough attention to, and wants to solve 2 problems at once. Make life better for my aunt and cat in one fell swoop. I said I’d think about while I was on my trip.

Upon my return, I was informed that Mom might take him home or Brother would take him. Either place would be better than here. Brother’s dog was more obedient than Chienne – my dog would certainly hurt the small cat at some point. Mom didn’t really want him, but she felt so bad for him. All alone in that room. All the time. She would accept the responsibility, and she did love him – cuddles him close and plays with his feathers on a string. They’re sweet together – Mom’s such a loving presence. I really do adore her – we laugh and talk and she tries so hard to understand me, to help me.

I’m like them – as critical as Dad at his worst, as manipulative as Mom at her peak. Living alone has made me miss them terribly – we get along very well 90% of the time. But there are times they make me tired – when I wish they’d go away so I can just think and write and work.

Then I could spend some time with Sprout then leave him with all his toys and his blanket in the window – take comfort from his gentle warmth and constant purring when I need him, and feel fine about leaving him alone when I need to do that.

Not worry that I didn’t send email to friends quickly enough. No, I don’t want them to think I don’t care. Yes, I want to treat people as I want to be treated.

I should work harder. I know it was very sweet of Boss to express his pride in me. It would, in fact, be nice to do something to deserve said pride.

I know – Dad doesn’t mean to be so indifferent to the needs of others. That he expects Mom to cook even when she’s not feeling well. That he complains about her driving even when she only offered to drive so that he could look around without steering us into a ditch. He is difficult. We still love him. I know.

I also know that he’s hurt when Mom lashes out – when she demands respect that she’s certainly due. I worry when she picks at food because I know she’s not feeling well – her knees and tummy hurt. Hiking around the state park was traded for driving to account for their preferences. I’m watching Dancing with the Stars rather than Gilmore because I know she enjoys the dancing.

It shouldn’t be hard to spend time with my family. To do what I know I should want to do with friends and pets and employment. I’m pretty selfish. I know.

I feel appropriately badly.