"Most Intricate" by Andrea Damic

If only you could pretend you don’t care about the superficially courteous relationship with your in-laws who also pretend to have risen above the meddling games yet manage to shove their friendly opinions right back in your face—you ought to teach them better, they didn’t say thank you again…what does it even mean sufficiently polite, how many times is ample amount of time—you keep asking yourself, and as your head spins with the criticism how it’s unreasonable to allow them to explore their limits, be their own people as if giving them a voice at such a young age would turn them into less-er (people)—being blunt is a luxury they didn’t have in their childhood, everything seems to come down to—what will the neighbours say. 

If only you could pretend that being Daughter-In-Law is something more—the name says it yet it’s the in-law part that they focus on when they use you as a vessel for all the grievances they’re uncomfortable airing to their own children. Still, you can’t bring yourself to blame them (no matter how appealing that sounds) because you understand the need to vent and be heard even when methods used are not endorsed, you can certainly relate—having a distant relationship with your own family. At least, hers are close enough so you experience in-flesh disapprovals (thinking how refreshing that is) as opposed to FaceTime/ Zoom/ Skype ones. At least hers don’t invoke the Bible every time she mentions her wife, and it makes you wonder how in hell you survived your zealot family.

If only you could pretend this doesn’t affect your mental health—all the spurious findings your family throws at you (despite being ten thousand miles away) as you catch yourself – again and again - in trying to be perfect, so bloody perfect that no one can utter a word against your spouse and the way you raise your children. And you know, deep down you know it’s unrealistic - an erroneous fallacy because no one is THAT perfect, and this is what you keep drilling into your children’s heads. You truly believe that imperfections make us perfect(ly) unique, and if others don’t like it… well… they can get fu….

The word gets out to everyone’s shock. The silence fills the room, almost palpable, and with the speed of light, the atmosphere transforms into giggles as Mum has said the F word (what a relief you think to yourself as you look at your wife apologetically knowing you broke the rule though deep down you profess the happiness you feel—there’s something elating about swear words). 

If only you could pretend you are one of those families without complex relationships (how hard can it be) so you allow yourself these little fabrications. It seems as easy as pulling the blinds down, just like Wile E. Coyote, over and over again when you were a kid, sitting on the soft woolly rug in the middle of the living room, squared eyes intently glued to the big screen, mouth half gaping, posture tense, completely and utterly in awe of Coyote’s stupidity. Now, decades later, you understand the blissful allure of oblivion.

As you snap back to reality, you avow that you are not the worst Daughter-In-Law, certainly not the worst Daughter, or even a human for that matter, and with this in mind, you continue with courteous smiles and polite nods, you embrace the conduit role bestowed upon your persona, not as a sign of weakness, quite the opposite. At this age, you know the strength required not to burst into pieces. You are knowledgeable enough to recognise the forest from the trees.

As for the what will the neighbours say—who the fuck cares!

Andrea Damic, born in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina, lives and works in Sydney, Australia. She wears many hats as her daughter likes to remind her. Aside from being a mum, Andrea is also an artist and a writer. Her education is opposite to artistic expression—she's an accountant with a master's degree in Economics. Being a non-native English speaker makes every publication worth the struggle. She believes there's something cathartic about seeing your words and art out in the world. Andrea is also a contributing editor of a newly founded Pictura Journal. Her literary art appears or is forthcoming in Bending Genres, Does It Have Pockets, JMWW, Ghost Parachute, Roi Fainéant Press, Alien Buddha Press, and elsewhere. During her imaginary free time, you can find her fiddling with her website https://damicandrea.wordpress.com/.