Euche (yoo’-kay): A vow to keep a promise.
“I swear—I promise to love you forever. Through thick and thin, IRS audits, and everything.”It was the most all-encompassing promise I had ever made. I’m pretty sure I meant it when I made it to her on the futon in the cargo space of my brand-new Subaru Outback. We were parked down an old logging road that my Subaru readily traversed. The road was remote and it was certain our activities would go undetected. Viva Subaru and the privacy it afforded by its four-wheel drive.
Even though I had made a promise of undying love, about two weeks later my feelings had started to wane. I was losing even feelings of friendship toward my girlfriend, especially when she made fun of my mother. My mother weighed 300 pounds and was five foot five. She sat in her chair all day fanning herself with the folding fan I had gotten her on a school trip to Chinatown ten years ago. She loved jellybeans and kept three bags full on the end table by her chair. She had a minder named Sal who dressed in all-white like a Good Humor man or a hospital orderly. He read her stories, shopped for groceries, fed her, did magic tricks, and helped her mount her walker when she had to go to the bathroom, take a shower, go or to bed. He also drove her to her numerous doctor’s appointments.
My mother had a speech impediment called rhotacism—a difficulty pronouncing the letter “R.” It embarrassed her to no end. For example, when she would say “wootabega” instead of “rutabaga” she would actually apologize.
My girlfriend Merdella made fun of my mother. Even though I had promised to love her forever, her making fun of my mother’s speech impediment made a huge blot on our relationship. When she said “Don’t forget to weaw a wubber!” when we were about to do it, I lost my desire and drove her home from the swamp where we were parked. She kept mimicking my mother and it was driving me crazy.
Then, I realized she was suffering from rhotacism just like my mother! Now, it was like our relationship was meant to be. When I listened to Merdella and my mother converse it was like a duet of love songs—my Ma’s and my future wife’s.
Then one day Merdella told me she had gotten “fresh raspberries” at the grocery store. She blushed and said “I mean fwesh wasbewies.” She had been faking it all along! I asked her why. She told me she wanted to win my love by being like my mother. I thought that was creepy, but I thought as long as she keeps the ruse going when we’re around my mother, it’s ok with me, especially if it smooths things with my mother who was about to marry Sal and move to Florida.
Life is complicated. You never know how things will work out, especially with womance which is totally unpweedictable.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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