The curtain lowers slowly at the end of act 2. Michelle is defeated and has somehow developed a weird limp for sympathy. She slumps demonstrating her loss of proactivity. However, she still dresses great, thank to my mother’s collection.
I start getting emails and voicemails from people lambasting my indifference to Michelle. They all know her and insist she’s a saint. How could I be so ungrateful?
She’s put her life on hold to care for your mother and you treat her like hell.
Her life? I know she clocked in a few months at Betty Ford but other than that I knew nothing about her. She didn’t work. No dates … like that needs clarification. I have suspicion she was getting plugged by half the police force during her bi-weekly cookie delivery. She took full control of selling my parent’s home. The one I grew up in. I found out much later (when my father died) that she got my mother to sign over Power of Attorney to her.
One night I managed to have a conversation with her. Michelle must have been taking a Calgon Take Me Away soak.
Mom, me and Glenn have a plan for all of this. Did you think we’d just dismiss our own mother? And why have all our cousins ceased to communicate with us?
Well how would I know any of this. You never call or visit. I only have Michelle to rely on. She’s just so attentive to me.
She’s attentive to your checking account Mom. And while you’re at it, check for missing jewelry.
She was officially brain washed. She drank the Kool Aid. I contacted the car dealership and begged them to take back the VW I was paying on. Which they did. I called another locksmith to take her locks out and put new ones in. I drove up one weekend and almost hit a tree when I saw all of the furniture on the front lawn. It seems Michelle was having an Estate Sale. The benefactor was naturally her. As her daughter’s wedding approached, she just disappeared. I wasn’t invited. How thoughtless, especially since my parent’s pension paid for the whole charade. I came across a picture of her and the daughter at the wedding ceremony. Let’s say they didn’t appear to be modest with their decoration choices. Or the gown. I don’t think it was a Vera Wang original but it was generously bejeweled. And there behind the bride was Michelle, smiling from ear to ear and looking just as nuts as ever.
While I welcomed her disappearance, my mother blame my brother and I for making her life a living hell. She still didn’t get it. Even up to the day she passed (and ya think Michelle showed up at the hospice?) my mother insisted I was wrong and everyone agreed with her. So I don’t hear much from that branch of cousins and I’m fine with that.
Much as The Talented Mr. Ripley ends, I’m certain she’s found another older and confused woman to drain. It’s sad she can’t build a resume to show her experience to a new employer. Instead I’m sure she comes knock’n on the door with her notorious Key Lime Pie.