Last night, I was checking my e-mail one last time for the day when I remembered I had made a fresh pot of after-dinner coffee. I stood up from my big comfy couch and heard myself saying to no one in particular, "Coffee me, fat girl." It's a very unpleasant command that just pops out of my head when I'm not careful. Here is its background:
When I was in college, I had a very good friend named Kathy. Kathy was a short, overweight Italian girl from New Jersey who had just a bit of a mustache. Her father was Italian, and her mother was German, a foul woman perpetually dazed on Valium. Kathy's mother spent the day propped up in bed barking demands to anyone within ear shot, and when she would catch a glimpse of Kathy passing by, she would shout out, "Coffee me, fat girl!" in her smoking-for-decades-filled-with-tranquilizers voice, consonants and vowels all mixed together in a big slur. She was the mother from Throw Mama From the Train but so drugged she was unable to form complete sentences.
Kathy brought that endearing maternal phrase with her to college, and soon we were all saying it. Kathy also brought a head full of alternative characters with her to college. She was a one-woman show with characters like Cynthia who was a young playground girl with a hint of mischief. Cynthia's voice was thin and high and slightly lispy. She told marvelous stories. Then there was the hunched-over Italian woman who was taking the train from Camden, New Jersey to Altoona, Pennsylvania, and she would complain about the ride and the people she was forced to travel with. My favorite was Agatha, a sweet and affectionate mentally retarded girl with muffled speech who would try to get someone to hug her. "You wanna hug?" she would mumble creepily as she sidled up to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. It made you wince. If you were kind to Agatha and actually dared hug her, she would say, "You wanna take a showa?"
On those late college nights when not a clear thought was in the room, we would request characters, and Kathy would protest--"I'm not a trained seal, you guys." But she would always come through with our favorites. "Do Agatha. Do Agatha. Eww."
The last I heard of Kathy, she had married a Pakistani man who I suspect did not see the humor in all of those delightful characters. I hope he at least had sympathy for a girl who developed alternative lives to escape a mother who called her "fat girl."
So, here's to Kathy and her rich imagination and warm, loving heart. "Do Agatha. Pleeeease." And here's to a hot cup of coffee after dinner and my happy memories from younger days.
When I was in college, I had a very good friend named Kathy. Kathy was a short, overweight Italian girl from New Jersey who had just a bit of a mustache. Her father was Italian, and her mother was German, a foul woman perpetually dazed on Valium. Kathy's mother spent the day propped up in bed barking demands to anyone within ear shot, and when she would catch a glimpse of Kathy passing by, she would shout out, "Coffee me, fat girl!" in her smoking-for-decades-filled-with-tranquilizers voice, consonants and vowels all mixed together in a big slur. She was the mother from Throw Mama From the Train but so drugged she was unable to form complete sentences.
Kathy brought that endearing maternal phrase with her to college, and soon we were all saying it. Kathy also brought a head full of alternative characters with her to college. She was a one-woman show with characters like Cynthia who was a young playground girl with a hint of mischief. Cynthia's voice was thin and high and slightly lispy. She told marvelous stories. Then there was the hunched-over Italian woman who was taking the train from Camden, New Jersey to Altoona, Pennsylvania, and she would complain about the ride and the people she was forced to travel with. My favorite was Agatha, a sweet and affectionate mentally retarded girl with muffled speech who would try to get someone to hug her. "You wanna hug?" she would mumble creepily as she sidled up to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. It made you wince. If you were kind to Agatha and actually dared hug her, she would say, "You wanna take a showa?"
On those late college nights when not a clear thought was in the room, we would request characters, and Kathy would protest--"I'm not a trained seal, you guys." But she would always come through with our favorites. "Do Agatha. Do Agatha. Eww."
The last I heard of Kathy, she had married a Pakistani man who I suspect did not see the humor in all of those delightful characters. I hope he at least had sympathy for a girl who developed alternative lives to escape a mother who called her "fat girl."
So, here's to Kathy and her rich imagination and warm, loving heart. "Do Agatha. Pleeeease." And here's to a hot cup of coffee after dinner and my happy memories from younger days.
Comments
I hope she's happy. She sounds like she deserves a bit of happiness.