Rich White Trash by Judi Taylor Cantor

Author:Judi Taylor Cantor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2019-10-11T18:15:56+00:00

Chapter Nine:

My Sweet Virginia

March, 2005

The March 15, 2005 Austin American Statesman morning paper hit the front door of the fortress with a bang, waking Virginia up. She rolled out of bed and slowly shuffled to the front door to pick it up. It was her connection with her former life. The life of politics and gab.

Headlines included an article titled “Ellis Seeks Legal Help For Counties” and stated that Texas “should boost funding to help counties pay for legal representation for poor defendants.” Virginia read this with resignation, thinking of Richard and the money she had spent trying to defend him.

She couldn’t help thinking of all three sons, especially Hap. She hoped God would forgive her for not attending Hap’s memorial service. She had her own problems to attend to.

After her heart attack, she was unable to drive, became weaker, incapable of walking up stairs. She had to depend more and more on Vicki’s help. She worried about herself. She couldn’t complete a crossword puzzle and she felt angrier about everything.

You would think that her favorite daughter, Bits, would have cared for her. Bits did not have that capacity.

Vicki realized her mother needed 24-hour care, so she moved into the fortress at the beginning of 2005. She re-arranged the bedrooms to accommodate Virginia’s inability to master the stairs, and wound down her massage practice to part-time.

The day-to-day care of Virginia with her undiagnosed bi-polar behavior began to take a toll on Vicki. Her mother criticized everything she did whether it was her hairstyle, her inability to clean the toilet properly, the way she prepared a sandwich, or her voice.

“Daddy used to say that my sister Dorothy had a shrill voice. Well, guess what? You inherited it!”

There were other days when Virginia would want to give Vicki things. “Now when I’m gone, Vicki, this Grandma Moses painting is yours. Put your name on it.”

The morning of March 15, Vicki finished her shower while Virginia sat in the kitchen drinking her coffee and reading her newspaper. Vicki was looking in the bathroom mirror and plucking her eyebrows, towel around her wet body. Virginia walked up behind her.

“Vanity is insanity,” she yelled, surprising Vicki.

“Jesus Christ, Mom! You scared the sheep out of me. What’s wrong with you?”

“Why are you plucking your eyebrows? Have a hot date? No one wants to see you.”

“Why are you so angry Mom?”

“Why are you so ugly?” Virginia replied.

“What kind of answer is that?”

“The truth—and YOU can’t take it.”

Vicki was puzzled. What brought this on? She feared she would be prodded to escalate this “fight about nothing.” She pushed Virginia out of the doorway and closed the door, pledging to see a psychologist to help her get through this horrible nightmare.

She called Iris, just wanting to talk through the impossible situation.

“Gosh, Vicki, I wish I could help you. I really mean that, I’m not being facetious.”

“I think talking about it helps,” Vicki said.

“Yes, you need to see an objective party for that. I know too much. It helps to just see the abuse for what it is.

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