As you know, I have had several journals that speak of my days and nights on this planet. One or two of them got trashed and another burnt, but a couple survived, one of them thick enough to chronicle three years or so.
At any rate, when mom was here some time ago, she was doing her usual cleaning and rearranging when she stumbled upon The Book.
If I were wise enough I would have put The Book among other notebooks, novels and volumes of academia to undermine its presence. But no, I had to stash it away in a labyrinth of obstacles and out of reach, making it quite an important item to justify my mom’s leafing through it.
Most of the stuff I write, even now, is incomprehensible gibberish, random thoughts and philosophies and reflections on almost everything, all in abstract monologues. One day it might be a book of significant human achievement, you’d never know! In between those abrupt and wacky thoughts are normal, human-friendly accounts of what transpired on that given day.
My mom happened to flip to one of the comprehensible pages, which, of all things, told of a certain experience I had in college. My friend, in a nutshell, visited me with a couple of very posh and very expensive cigars.
Now you know I am a non smoker and, back then, being very righteous and goody two shoes, I did not allow myself to write that my friend and I smoked cigars. To hide the truth, I wrote “my friend and I have sinned”.
Done laughing? Good… mom wasn’t laughing. She was horrified. Her hopes of having grandchildren got butchered.
Her very own son was sinning with another man.
She had to read more, so she read the pages before and after. Of course, I was quite creative in my writings, and with the “sin” part consuming mom’s thoughts, you can imagine how she felt when I wrote on how breathless I was after sinning, how I had to consume lots of liquids to remove the taste, how my room was smoking, and – which I am sure almost gave her a stroke – I frequently coughed and gagged, and most importantly that it felt really good and my friend and I laughed so hard.
It took mom several days of preparation to open the topic with me.
“Kinan,” she started, after having me sit down for a talk. I expected this to be another bridal shopping lecture.
“I… I know of your sin”
“Kinan 7abibi it is ok, I am your mom, you can tell me everything”
“I won’t tell anyone… we can talk about this”
“Talk about what?!”
“People make mistakes, people do stupid things, it is ok… I just want to protect you”
“From WHAT! What the HELL are you talking about?!”
“When you were a kid did anyone touch you?”
“It’s ok Kinan… I just realized, omg I am a horrible mom! I never asked if anyone hurt you in school…”
“Um.. no, I am fine…”
“In college… did anyone do anything?”
“I read your journal… when you sinned”
It then dawned on me. I refrained from being angry at her leafing through my journal, so I just said “No mom it’s just me and my friend smoking”
That didn’t make it any better.
She was prepared to hear me confess or fulfill her hopes by telling her that yes I sinned and I need some therapy.
But she wasn’t prepared to hear that I smoked.