Send My Love (to your new lover)

A Tiger Never Changes its Stripes

As soon as I saw her face I regretted my decision. When I decided to invite her mother for a visit, I thought it would be a nice way to confront her frustrations and maybe have a nice time. She was in front of her house, backlit by the sun (always my favorite) and beautiful as ever. Problem was, she wasn't warm and welcoming; she looked pissed and tense, her arms crossed and her brows furrowed.

"My Jennifer--" her mother gasped and picked up the pace, getting to her before I could.

At least Mom's happy she's here.

I regret everything about this.

I smiled at her and saw only a faint tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her mother threw her arms around Jennifer's waist and squeezed her tight, telling her she missed her and she loved her and all of those nice things. It didn't seem to affect Jen, she simply returned the embrace and narrowed her gaze at me.

"Oh Jennifer. I've missed you," her mother's Vietnamese accent was thick but she spoke very clearly.

"Did you have a nice trip, mother?"

"Oh yes, Robert sent an airplane just for me. Can you believe it?"

"Oh I can," she replied, shooting me a look that meant certain death for me.

Her mom seemed nice enough, I'd caught some wrath from her on the phone in the past but generally she seemed like a nice woman. Jennifer broke away from her mother and took her inside, asking if she was thirsty or hungry and said she'd start making dinner.

Her mother nosed around Jen's small house, looking through drawers and swiping her finger across all of the shelves and surfaces, checking for dust. I was wishing she'd just sit down and relax. Jen kept to herself in the kitchen, as far away from us as she could be. I approached cautiously and placed my hand in the small of her back, making her jump slightly.

"Can I help you with anything?"

No response.

"Marge?"

She pointed the tip of her knife at the pot on the stove and simply said, "stir."

Shit. I've made a terrible mistake.

She'd gotten so frosty, I was worried if I made a wrong move, I'd be the next thing on her cutting board. I did as I was told and stirred while she added the chopped ingredients to the pot.

"Phở?" I asked cautiously.

"Yes, Robert. It's Phở...mother's favorite," she spit back. I was ready for her to stop being mad at me.

"Look, Jen...I'm sorry. I should have asked you first--"

She cut me off by slamming the knife down on the cutting board and giving me a look that could only be described as a woman possessed. I was waiting for her to spit fire and promptly chop my head off.

"I don't want to talk about this right now or I'll say things that I will definitely regret," she said and that was it. End of story. No more talkie, Bobby.

What should I do now?

Light myself on fire?