“My mother sometimes loved me” he says, “well that is to say she loved me when it suited her. She was not an affectionate woman, not affectionate at all. As a matter of fact she could be quite unkind.”
“I’m sorry to hear that” I reply, “mothers should always be kind to their children.”
“Yes you would think so wouldn’t you?” His lips part to form something more akin to a grimace than a smile.
I search for phrases, conversational pieces suitable for such a candid revelation. “Was your childhood very unhappy?”
“Oh no” he says “not at all. It was mostly very pleasant. I didn’t know any different you see. I thought everyone’s mother gave kisses as treats to be earned. “
“A mother’s love is usually unconditional” I say.
“Yes apparently so. Still, I had the last laugh” he lets out a sly chuckle. “She’s dead now.”
He claps his hands and rubs them together with glee. “Shall we have some dessert? The Death By Chocolate looks exquisite don’t you think?”