Corcoran Story - Chapter 10 - Ingrid

My mother, the esteemed editor in chief, doesn't know nearly so much about me as she thinks she does.  For starters, the way I look isn't about Daddo.
  

Not that I don't miss him terribly.  The day doesn't go by that I don't think of him.  That being said, I'm well aware that it was a miracle for him to live so long.  It would have been a miracle even if he hadn't had cancer!

My mother, however, has such fixed ideas about the way things are that she misses the realities that are right under that nose for news of hers.

The tatoo, for example.  That wasn't even my first ink job; she didn't notice the first one, and, given the way she went ballistic about the one she saw, I wasn't about to call it to her attention.

"Do you have any idea how awful that will look when you're my age and sagging?"  I probably shouldn't have pointed out that if she'd ever seen the inside of a gym, it might not be an issue.

"People will think you're trash if you go out in public dressed like that!" If people are going to judge me based on what I wear, they can kiss my tatooed arse!

Besides, when I'm out in public and people sense "Cop", the ambient temperature drops at least 15 degrees.  Say what you like about my off-duty clothes; they don't suggest "Cop!".  People will even tell me very informative and useful things that they'd never tell a cop.

"Don't you know how many women would kill for that long, thick, natural blonde hair that you just shaved off?!?"  Do you think they'd kill for all the blonde jokes that went with it?

She thinks I have no friends.  I happen to have more friends than she does.  I don't bring them here because she'd try to interview them.

I even have a boyfriend, a PI that I met at work.

He's been around; she might have met him if she weren't so convinced that I'm this friendless, pathetic loser. I haven't presented him for inspection because, besides an interview, there'd be an interrogation about his lifestyle, his prospects and his intentions.

 Which would be more than awkward because I don't happen to *want* to get married.

Whee! My promotion to lieutenant comes with my very own patrol car!

I cannot tell you how sick I am of riding a bicycle everywhere!

Dad doesn't approve but he understands that it goes with the job; Sunset Valley doesn't have bobbies on bicycles.

I've fallen in love.  With Marlowe, of course, but we already knew that.

I was referring to the most wonderful house!

Overlooking the ocean,

Light and spacious,

With its own private gym!

Which puts me in a quandary; I don't want to leave Mother and Dad by themselves at their ages.

However, not only do I want to live in that house, I want to live like a normal person.  Without having to sneak around to get some privacy with Marlowe.

With a car and a clothes dryer.

And the occasional grilled tri-tip steak.  Without a lecture about how many pounds of grain were wasted on said steak!  If they go with me, I'm afraid I'd cave on "My house, my rules".

I didn't mean for this to happen!

Before we could have the big conversation, Dad up and died while weeding the garden.

It was too much for Mother; she went in her sleep, late that same night.

Not only is it too late for me to be the daughter they'd have preferred but now there's no chance that they'll accept the daughter they had.