Witchy Woman

I had to stop and ask myself, “Why?” why did this woman, I barely know, hate me so much? What had I done. It isn’t as if I think everyone needs to love me. It’s just that, why would someone really, truly hate me? She is my nephews wife. I adore my nephew. He was born when I was thirteen and we have always had a certain closeness. He’s smart and good looking and has a sweet nature. He is like a big, golden retriever who bounds into the room and shakes sand and water all over you. Annoying but lovable. My children adore him too. He rolls around on the floor with them and swings them into the air so they can try to grab hold of the stars. My kids are not really little anymore but he still flies them high into the air which curls my toes in fear that he is going to drop them on their heads. Somehow, he always catches them safely.

He is a nuclear physicist. He did not inherit the math gene from our side of the family, that’s for sure. He is big and friendly, remember the golden retriever? He came back to San Diego, while living in Europe, for a visit nine or so years ago and brought his girlfriend. A girl with auburn hair and a name that sounded like the name of my favorite Mexican cocktail. They married while living in Portugal. They had a sunny flat that looked out on the Atlantic Ocean and they fell in love. She didn’t want children, which weighed heavy on my nephew. He loves kids and wanted them badly. She denied him the joy a baby often brings, but as things soured, I see it was for the best. He would have had his heart broken twice as bad, had he had to part with a son or daughter too.

His wife, the girl-woman with the cocktail name, wants a divorce now. She says she hates him. She hurls insults at him and she uses his love for me to make the wounds deeper. She tells him she hates me because I am a vicious and horrible person. She says I am insane and she is convinced I am a witch. Not a witch in the sense of being a nasty bitch, but a real, life, modern-day witch. The flying on a broom, should be hung by the neck till dead or burned at the stake kind of witch. What? The? Fuck? I would laugh except it really makes me wonder at the sanity of a person who comes up with this kind of “logic.” She didn’t only hurl insults, she hurled her wedding rings which my nephew retrieved from the floor of their apartment.

I should have known something weird was afoot when she came to visit and made me feel uncomfortable due to the amount of gushing and hugging. I like to hug as much as the next fifty-something woman but she was way over the top, really big with the compliments, oh-so-syrupy sweet to me. I knew she is a vegetarian and so I made her fish on the grille and considered the rest of her meal when I cooked. Cooking is a passion of mine and I never want anyone to feel left out. So, when I made Korean style ribs I bought her a halibut filet and served it with a buttery caper sauce. I have no clue why she hates me.

I found out my daughter has type 1 diabetes, a horrible disease, shortly after my nephew and his wife moved to San Diego. Of course, they visited her in the hospital. Then we all went to the fair together since I had promised my daughter we would go when she left the hospital. That is the last time I saw my nephews wife. I had just found out that my beautiful daughter was horribly sick and my nephews wife decided I ride a broom through the night skies. I never said a cross word to her. I never was mean to her. She simply decided that I am a bonafide witch, told her husband to move out and to file for a divorce. I wince at thinking that I may, somehow, give off “witchy woman” vibes.

So, that is my true tale of woe. I can’t make the world like me. I would think that some kind of good reason, beyond someone imagining me as a witch, is due. But then there is a fact I can not deny. My best friend, suddenly and inexplicably quit talking to me too. She gave no reason. She just quit talking to me. She promised to call me the next day and never did. I called her and left a message. I emailed her. I even posted a note on her Facebook page asking when she was coming to visit. But nothing. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Apparently I have caused her to hate me too. I wonder if, she also, believes me to be a witchy woman?