“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.”
“Oh dear.”
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?”
