I met Madi’s son when I was 13 years old. It was during one of the most important transitional periods of my life. Everything was changing for me at that moment in time. I met her son through new acquaintances at a new school - if that tells you anything. Her son was and still is a sweet kid. Nevertheless, the outside world has no idea what a big, negative toll that mother of his had on his own development as a person.
To put it into perspective, prior to first meeting Madi, I had most of her personality already outlined for me by her son. He described her as wealthy, not well educated, severely lacking in taste, having an over-inflated ego, and, lastly, having an inability to sit down for more than 30 minutes. She was always up and around just looking and fixing and calling and buying, he said with a disappointing tone.
I truly believe that I am the only person to this day that knows some of the fine, minute details that I came to find out about that family over the next two to three years. Obviously, it comes from a limited scope, but I remember the feeling of having cracked through that Midwest mirage in a truly revealing way. I asked a lot of questions and I had a tendency to point out inappropriate things (I still do kinda have that tendency, unfortunately). I examined this suburban tragedy in ways that others haven’t. I hold the feeling of having cut through that repressed veil of Americana.
Anyways, it was stated earlier that Madi was a despicable individual in the eyes of her son. What I didn’t mention, however, was the dark spot of Madi’s personal narrative upon this green, beautiful, expansive earth that painted her and her actions in that light. Well, this twisted epicenter was that she had an ongoing affair with some man in Texas. She had met him while away on business and her husband had found out about it. Sadly, my friend had tagged along with his father in this slow reveal of betrayal. It all unfolded four to six months prior to my first meeting the son.
Madi proceeded to evade an expensive divorce through strong-arming and emotional manipulation. All the way through the course of my more intimate relationship with the son and all the way through today. It wasn’t like we didn’t know Madi’s ways of keeping the divorce at bay. The strong-arming and manipulation came in the shape of trips to California for the husband and kids, new golf clubs for the husband, a microbrewery in the basement for the husband, a water park in the backyard for the kids, the newest gaming systems for the kids, and a home theatre for the family. She brought home the bacon in a big way. Regardless, none of it was received genuinely by anyone in the family of four besides the youngest daughter since she was too young to comprehend the strings attached to it all.
I got to know Madi intimately during that time period. Well enough to become physically sickened whenever I witnessed the mental and verbal gymnastics that so precisely held up her personal life. I don’t think I’ve ever felt the same nauseating feeling of plasticity that I felt in that mansion ever since. Only one time at this restaurant I worked at. Anyhow, it was sickening to know what I knew and see her act the way she did. I knew she had another family-type situation in Texas with that hot yoga instructor. I knew that that’s who she talked to after our bocci ball games. I knew that that’s who she was texting before she paid the expensive dinner bill. I knew that there was always an uncertainty as to where Madi was really going for business. I knew all this and it made me feel pathetic.
What’s strange is that I still feel pathetic thinking about it now and I’ll tell you why. I can recollect little moments and instances shared with Madi that proved her utter contentment with life. Finding out that she herself had been brutally betrayed by her first husband. The way she sang along to songs about being your own God or finding your own personal muse. Her comments when we watched the “Pine Barrens” episode of “The Sopranos.” How she made it a point to let me know that the most important thing in life is your reputation. How she shamelessly flirted with that tennis coach while leaning on her sports car. Countless little gestures reassured me of her doubling down on her actions.
Still, I’m the one to feel pathetic because I know that she romanticized her own ugly behavior. She was the hero. Her husband had traded in emotional closeness for affluence but that didn’t register with Madi as long as the marriage stayed together. Her son couldn’t hug her without showing discomfort. She lived in a half-baked world where nobody could fully love her, yet, none of it made her want to surface self-awareness and genuineness. She was the hero as long as she was perceived as the perfect wife and loving mother of two. The one who provided her family with countless privileges that so many others can only dream of acquiring. All that mattered was the view of the outside looking in.
I guess that’s what people do. They build their own worlds that are traded in at everyone’s expense. They force into existence lukewarm, shallow lives that they dress up as meaningful. They bask in their own dualities while we fragment in the wayside. I always felt as if Madi must’ve had puke in her mouth the way she talked and lived. It was so boring and lacking of real stakes. Simply lukewarm and gross. Nevertheless, I can’t help but feel like I’m the pathetic one. She checked off all the reasons in her own psyche to feel peace of mind. Everything was and continues to be in its place. Everything is nice and neat in her mind, yet, I can’t put some of my smallest demons to bed. So, here’s to you making me feel pathetic again, Mrs. Pukeymouth.