Radio silence

30 01 2015

The next few weeks were bliss knowing that Mort was a long, long, long way from us. Those clenched up chunks inside my brain and my heart that were in perpetual fearful anxiety of the notion of him turning up at the girls school, or randomly bumping into him in the city (me in my killer heels on my way to a meeting….him being the drunk in the gutter), or him actually showing up to my new workplace (my role being in part that of networking I would have turned up easily in .34 seconds on a Google search)….could relax…. just that little bit.

There was also a bubble of relief knowing that my parents wouldn’t be harassed by the incessant sounds of the phone heralding a barrage of slurring, ranting, swearing and blaming.

There was for that month only one phone call from him. Given that he was in rehab and without access to alcohol, at least the call was devoid of the slurring, it also featured a lesser degree of the ranting and swearing….but he doubled up on the load of blame. As usual there wasn’t even a modicum of responsibility but it was clearly pointed out that I was a cold-hearted selfish bitch for not being supportive ….”all the other guests have their partners who visit and bring them muffins, and stuff, why don’t you do that Ripley…what have I done to you for you to neglect me”. And yes, that is a quote. I wrote it down at the time to conserve conciseness. I particularly love the term ‘guests’ as though he had been invited to an exclusive soirée.

During that time I got a phone call from Bob, his best friend since the 5th grade. He reported that the conversation with Mort consisted of Mort spending the greater portion of the time recounting peccadilloes of their primary school teachers and the other part whining about the food selection at the Rehab facility. (somehow at $60k a month I doubt they were eating beans on toast). Bob noted that there was not a single mention or acknowledgement of the fact that his life had fallen apart due to his alcoholism and his decisions. Bob kept saying, over and over, “I have no idea who this guy is”.

Bob confided that he thought Mort had melted a part of his brain. He thought that the absence of alcohol would return Mort to a lucid state, but it clearly didn’t, Mort was living a delusional reality.

I am sure this was his mental self-image: photo credit: blogs.amctv.com

I am sure this was his mental self image: photo credit: blogs.amctv.com

this is what was really going on: photo credit: www.femme.fan.com

this is what was really going on: photo credit: http://www.femme.fan.com





Mt. Ripley

3 10 2012

In mid-November I was hosting my bookclub christmas do.  Mort was in charge of getting Clare and Maddie bathed and to bed on time while I had my friends for dinner in the other room.  At one stage I came into the kitchen to see my girls sitting by themselves in front of the tv unbathed and munching on a packet of chips.  Where is your dad?  The reply was asleep.  It was 7.00 at night and I had a house full of people.  I was beyond livid.

I checked in and sure enough there he was buried under the covers like a giant grotesque snoring tick.  There are no words to describe my absolute disgust.  I left him to sleep as I didn’t want to rattle that cage while my friends were in the house.

Instead I got the girls organized for bed and continued with my dinner party.  When the guests left….I let rip.   Good thing that we put in that air-conditioning because I was spewing face-melting magma all over the place.