After getting there and ordering our food, mom started talking about my job. Or lack thereof.
"Have you been on employflorida.com lately?" she asked. I said yes. I'd in fact been browsing the website last night before I went to bed.
"Well you know there are four animation jobs in Orlando. Are you looking in Orlando?"
"Yes, mom..." As if I haven't already told her 10 times that I'm looking for jobs all over the place.
"Well, they all want people with more experience, but I think you should write a letter to them asking about jobs," mom continued.
"Can we please just not talk about this right now?" I asked, really not wanting to feel stressed out over lunch. I've just started a vacation from the internet to relieve some of the stress I've been dealing with. I really did not need this today.
"Well I think it's a good idea. So I think you should do that."
"Can we please not talk about it right now?" I ask again, in case she didn't think I was being serious the first time.
"I think you should send them a letter, so after lunch, we're going to sit down and write a letter to those companies, because that's what I want to do."
"I know about the jobs. I've told you I'm taking care of the job searching. I'll look into it. You don't need to sit me down and make me do things like I'm five years old." I'm starting to get annoyed.
"Mom just wants you to write a letter," my dad finally chimes in. "She's talking about a new approach to applying for jobs. We're just trying to help you."
"Helping me would be to listen to what I'm saying when I ask to stop talking about it. You told me about the jobs, I got the message, I'll take care of it. If I need your help with the letter, I'll ask you about it." More annoyed. Having dad gang up on me with mom is only a sign that nothing is going to get better. I don't know why I didn't bail out at this point.
"We're going to sit down and write the letter after lunch. I want to do it," mom says again.
"Yeah - you want to do it. But it's not your job. It's mine. Let me take care of it." I know that I'm visibly upset at this point. I can feel the anger welling up inside me, and I'm doing the best I can not to start yelling and crying in the middle of Longhorn Steakhouse. Mom doesn't know how to take a hint.
"Nope. We're going to do it after lunch," she says firmly, giving me this stupidly wide smile as if she's won the argument and is happy to find that she's getting her way once again. That stupid fucking smile.
I flip out a little.
"Don't smile like you're proud of ignoring everything I'm trying to say to you. I told you I don't want to talk about this right now, and I don't need you to write a letter for me," I snap.
Dad repeated that they're "just trying to help."
The anger and frustration is threatening to take over. My whole body was starting to tremble, and I knew that if I sat there any longer, I was going to burst into tears.
I quickly made my way to the bathroom, and ended up hiding in there for about 15 minutes. Crying, trying to stop myself from crying, and scratching the skin all over my shoulders and stomach. Cutting is all I know that can distract me when I'm in a state like that, and there was no way I was going to walk out of that bathroom looking like I'd just been bawling. I stood there wishing I'd worn a long sleeve shirt so that I could scratch my arms.
My food eventually arrived at the table, and my mom tried calling my cell phone while I was still in the bathroom to tell me. I answered the phone thinking that it might be Kevin calling, but when I saw it was her, I hung up. A couple minutes later, she went into the bathroom and started calling my name. I was grateful that the bathroom stall at Longhorn were completely walled in so that there was no way she could see me. She knocked on my door and told me that my food had arrived. I said nothing to her. She eventually left the bathroom.
I stood there for several more minutes, trying to regain control of my emotions. It's always hard to stop once the tears start. Eventually, I calmed myself down enough to go back. I was also grateful that Longhorn wasn't busy, so I was the only one in the bathroom most of the time. Thankfully, my eyes hadn't turned puffy and red. The cheap toilet paper I used to dab the tears from my eyes had stuck to my cheeks and eyelashes.
After cleaning up, I returned to the table. I avoid looking at either of my parents because I'm afraid that the sight of them will set me off again. Mom asked me if I wanted my food heated up.
"No," I reply. I'm quite fine with lukewarm food, really.
"I tried calling your cell phone, and I went in the bathroom looking for you, to tell you your food was here."
"I heard."
"Why didn't you answer me?" she asks.
I don't reply.
I don't talk for the rest of lunch, for that matter, or the ride home. I couldn't stand to say another word to her.
What a great way to start off my day.