Onetime protege Kelly and her family came to visit. This trip was notable because for the first time, I was meeting Kelly's mother, whose legend I've heard for 12 years but whose pathologies I've never actually witnessed first-hand. Kelly took her kids down to the beach, leaving me alone with Mom and two really stiff drinks. I'm not sure if Mom was drinking.
"So, my grandchildren call you 'Uncle John' and refer to you as their 'other father.'"
I took a big gulp of bourbon.
Knowing she's from back East and had never before met a co-worker of Kelly's, I decided to talk Kelly up. "Do you have any idea what a big-shot your daughter is at Microsoft?"
"No, tell me."
And so I did. She's a huge shot. She went from my interview chair to being the boss within a year and a half, and then she continued her meteoric rise. She's enormously well-respected by both kool-aid guzzling twinkies and by people with actual abilities. In short, Mom, I've never been prouder of someone than I am of your daughter.
Mom was very pleased. And then she started talking about her other daughter. Actually, "pimp" is the more precise verb. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
This relative, too, I've heard lots about but never met. She's been briefly married twice, each time to an abusive "bad boy." Kelly has long lamented her sister's taste in men, and Mom, I figured, saw me as the antithesis of her usual choices. I pretended I had no idea where she was going with this. So Mom made things more clear.
"Anyway, she's going through a divorce right now. I'm just saying you should think about it."
I tried to deflect gracefully. "I don't know. I don't think she'd be interested, since I don't really need to be fixed."
"LIKE HELL YOU DON'T!" yelled Kelly, just coming up the beach steps.