My mother is 30: A (very) short fictional story

An insane thing has happened. My 81-year-old mother, taking an experimental drug from her endocrinologist, has turned 30. 

Which is to say that her entire body is now restored. Her mind, restored. Her ailments now, as they were then, entirely psychosomatic. 

She is shocked. We are all shocked.

My other mom. Shocked. And she, having taken no experimental drug yesterday, is still very much 75. For now. While we sort this out. We are keeping this on the down low, so as not to alarm the media. 

Doctors are calling, saying, ‘We can squeeze you in at 3:30 with the orthopedist, with the denture specialist.’ Etc, etc. My mother is politely and with no explanation canceling all. They say ‘Is 4:15 better?’ ‘No,’ she says. ‘Never. Never is best.’ And hangs up. 

I know what you’ll say first. She has to get off Facebook or people will think she’s an old lady! But she is an old lady! Her mind and body are in top form, but she still thinks everything can be bought for $25 and that you can rent an entire midtown venue for $200 and they’ll throw in free drinks. Yes, she’s trying to produce a cabaret. I told her to wait a day and see if she’s still 30 tomorrow. We have so much to sort out. 

She herself is quite alarmed. It isn’t the 70s, yet it also isn’t yesterday. And what will tomorrow be? Will she be 31? We can’t say!

And as to the miracle drug: We’ve advised her to stealthily stockpile it. Before too many others catch on. 

We don’t know who else is on it. It was a small trial. Ongoing. God knows what she was taking it for! I don’t think she can even remember and she’s only 30! 

She’s smoking like a chimney. She went straight to CVS for cigarettes. It’s not like anyone recognized her.

Well, I told her that. I said, ‘Go! Go have your fun.’ And my other mom said so, too. We sent her to a lesbian bar straight away, but first I said, ‘Now Mom, the drugs are different now, for the love of God. If a pretty girl offers you fentanyl, that’s the bad one! Just Say No!’

But how can I be sure?! Who could have said that this random endocrine drug would make her 51 years younger on one dose?! For all I know, fentanyl will make her radiant! No, no, I told her to be careful. …Jeezus.

Ha. Yes, happy Pride indeed. I’m glad you picked up, too! Imagine me trying to text this.

She’s there now. She’s drunk texting us. It’s utterly incoherent, much like her sober texts. Well, she doesn’t drink! But she did when she was 30. She liked Glenlivet. Oh my God, she’s at the lesbian bar having Glenlivet. Oh God. I told her, ‘Just listen. Don’t talk too much or you’ll say something insane.’ No, you’re right. I bet they love her. I told her, ‘Say you studied abroad in New Zealand for ten years. No one will even know what to ask.’ Hopefully she’s following all my advice. I dunno. Her texts are just like —ejaculative sounds. I texted back, drink water please!!

Yes, it was just one dose! Well, that’s the only thing she did differently yesterday. We’ve put the drug in a safe. I bought her a safe. This shit is gonna be huge. 

I know that she’s precisely 30 ‘cause nothing has sagged and she still has all her hopes about her, but she’s not being annoying like 25. So that’s how I’ve estimated. And correctly I think. 

Oh, she’s a blast! Just the same. Asked for a ticket for Uber like she always does. And I said, ‘Now Mom, you can’t go to the gay bar on an ‘Uber ticket’ and please don’t let anyone hear you say that. It’s an app. You know that.’ And now, this time, she won’t forget. She was, finally, appropriately mortified. 

Oh, me? I’m — I mean, I’m totally overwhelmed! It’s just. It’s incredible. We all are. The dog has lost her mind. She’s catatonic. Just staring. She’s taking it the hardest. For her it’s not objectively good or bad, just terrifying and different.