I feel kinda bad, but than again I don't. And I can't really put my finger on WHY I feel bad. It has nothing to do with me, really. It was all her.
I'm having some internal struggles. I've been told by 2 separate people this year, that Mother had a "thing" with parents of their friends/acquaintances. Granted, this was years ago...20-25 perhaps? But time doesn't diminish the feelings. A little embarrassment, some "OMG WTF?!", a spoonful of shame, and a lot of "I'm not sure what to say here." There is no surprise in that list of emotions, though. None at all.
I knew she was promiscuous. I saw it with my own eyes. I remember forcing my younger sister into the playroom so she wouldn't see the strange man in the bedroom down the hallway and ask where his pants were. The man who came home with her from jury duty. Puts a new spin on fulfilling your civic duty, eh? Yes, Mother was married at the time. Yes, to a most vile a-hole and waste of genetic material. But still. And that wasn't the only time. That's just the incident that stands out most clearly in my memory. There are others that are more fuzzy.
I guess I tried to compartmentalize it all. Just cram that lid tight on that box, then superglue it, screw it (haha!) and hit it with a blow torch for good measure. It was tucked away as an unpleasant memory that I never had to mess with again. Until now. I guess I never really imagined I might know anyone on the other sides of those effed-up (haha!) equations. But I do now. Not personally, but enough that I'm bothered by it. A lot, actually.
Part of me wants to confront her with it. But I know she'll just lie. She mentally lives in this really weird alter universe where she pretends to have absolutely no recollection of any wrong-doings. Ever. And she's been there for so long that she believes her imagination to be true. I've tried to talk about things with her in the past and it hasn't gone so well. I've either gotten the knotted eyebrows "what?!" face, or she asks "now where did you get that?" And then she quickly tries to explain away what I'm remembering in a way that shows her in a better light. If those tactics don't work, she'll resort to a crying jag. She'll play the pitiful card and say how she was so abused/scared for her life/out of her mind that she didn't know what she was doing. Blah blah blah. Don't talk to me about abused and scared for your life. Just stop with your s#$% right there. The moment you failed to protect your children from that evil being was the moment I lost all respect for you. As a mother, as a woman, and as a person.
I'll probably just let it go. I'll rip that box back open, reorganize everything and shackle that lid right back on. Addressing it with her won't solve any thing. I'm not even sure there is an issue to be solved, truthfully. I'll just need to work out a way for me to make peace with my self and stop carrying the blame for another's indiscretions. Easier said than done. Sometimes I wish I had a Mom to talk things over with, you know?