A couple of months ago after I’d only been here for a little while, I was walking into the house with an armload of groceries in my left hand and a yummy mocha in the right. I juggled the armloads to unlock the door, the three girls and D were standing behind me, also loaded with groceries. I don’t exactly know how it happened but I put my last three fingers of my right hand directly on a furry spider the size of a quarter but in my mind it was like a half-dollar ball of death and I ran from the porch bowling everyone to the side in my panic driven frenzy to escape. The girls stared at me with astonishment, and D looked at me in bewilderment until I stammered and stuttered that there was a monster in the entry by the door.
D promised to take care of it while I went back to the driveway, heart racing and blood pounding. The girls giggled and talked amongst themselves. “Auntie Nina is afraid of spiders.”
I turned around to take a deep breath and when I felt ready to face the criticism I turned back to the group only to discover D running at me with a mop that had the half-dollar-fuzzy-spider of doom on the end and she had a look of pure evil. She charged me in the driveway holding the handle end as though she meant to smear the thing (still crawling around) in my face. Sisters. Hmph.
I reacted on pure instinct and did what every empowered, smart and strong woman does – I screamed bloody fucking murder threw the groceries down on the gravel, launched my mocha into the bushes and took off mach 5 down the road waving my arms and screeching in a voice I didn’t recognize as mine.
D evidently was so surprised she fell down and laughed so hard for so long the girls had to help her back into the house. So the cat was out of the bag. I’m not afraid of traveling through cities and adventuring in the desert alone, rafting, rock climbing of bungee jumping, but a little spider can get my panties in a twist. And just like any family full of adoration and love – they haven’t let me forget it.
A couple of weeks ago, I was at the Flower shop and we were cutting the ends of the red velvet roses from Ecuador. I was talking while we were working and not paying attention. My little red handled knife would hack out and the bottom two inches of a rose stem would fall on the floor. Chat, chat, chat.
Then suddenly I whacked my left pointer finger. It was a sharp knife so it was a good deep but clean cut, I swore (it would take me too long to type out every word I used) and stuck my hand under running water. Glancing back over my shoulder I asked D for a band aid and realized she was desperately pale and clutching the edge of the counter.
“D? Are you okay?”
She nodded silently and looked ready to faint, eyes glazed and far away. Then I remembered. D can’t stand the sight of blood. I had my moment of evil thoughts, payback of the worst possible kind – I could chase her through the shop with my bloody finger but buy the look on her face she wouldn’t make it two steps before passing out in a pile of discarded rose stems.
“D? I need a band aid.”
She nodded again and opened a cupboard. A second later I herd a grunt and looked over to see a box of band aids being shoved in my general direction, her face firmly averted and she squeaked – “Don’t show me. Don’t let me see it.”
It wasn’t bad, easily fixed with a band aid and I didn’t need stitches but neither of us talked about it for the rest of the day. That night over dinner I said, “You do realize you can never tease me about spiders again after today.”
She nodded and we both smile in that “truce for the moment” way. Both of us know this is not the end, it just raises the stakes in the game of “One up your family until they beg for mercy at your ingenious and evil strategies to make misery on the ones you love.”
I’m sure after a couple of weeks the challenge will be back on – because, well, what is family for if not to push every freakin’ button you’ve got until the button just stops working? If your loved ones don’t respect your fears enough to use them against you… who will? Let the games begin.
Feel free to place your bets.
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