My parents are kind folk who gave me a pleasant childhood.
They both retired a few years ago, and they had been enjoying their golden years. Winter months in Florida (we live in a chilly Northern climate), cruises to an interesting place every other year, cards with old friends etc.
Since the pandemic all that stopped. They have been up my business to a degree I haven’t seen since I moved out twenty years ago.
I seem to be their only hobby. It’s terrible.
They constantly call or drop in, questioning everything I do. Their anxiety for my health, my job, my car and its tires - their stream of concern is spiralling closer to me every day, and I know soon they will be lecturing me about the amount of toilet paper I use and the brand of tampons my girlfriend keeps at my place.
Two things happened recently:
1- I moved;
2- I realised they are demons.
Minor demons, but demons nonetheless.
They were helping me with the move (I am working full-time so it made sense) and they were over all the time, packing up stuff in my old place, arranging movers, and then unpacking etc.
We were supposed to take my bed apart. My dad wanted to do it himself, but I insisted we do it together.
I got to my place late from work and let myself in. He had already started. I saw him lift my heavy wooden bedframe and flip it over as easily as if were a tea tray.
“Dad?” I yelped.
He swung around. His eyes glowed at me. I felt I couldn’t breathe. “There you are” he grunted, in his most dad voice. “come on then, we haven’t got all day.”
I shivered. Everything seemed normal.
The next episode happened at my new place- they were fiddling over a light fixture. Dad was up on a chair, Mom was handing him tools, they were getting on each others nerves, louder and louder.
I heard Mom shriek - she was holding a screwdriver and I thought she was going to ram it in his foot. They were looking at each other and I saw a bright flash cross between their eyes. The chair rocked back and forth, but he remained steady. My mom became very quiet, looked at me and smiled.
I knew then.
There’s no point asking them not to come over. They have my keys, they come and go as they please. I researched, and salt seems a time-honoured method of keeping demons at bay.
I poured a huge amount of salt across the threshold of my door of my new apartment, and along the windows for good measure. They had a thing about keeping windows closed. I said all the chants I could find on google.
And then, the next day, my mom called. In a hurried way, she explained that they just received an incredibly good deal they couldn’t resist for a six-month stay in Florida at a luxury place, starting tomorrow. They were sorry not to see me in-person to say goodbye, but they didn’t want to spend more time shivering and wasting their golden years here and they were off tomorrow.
I said all the right things, even promising to go down for a few days on my vacation.
Then I started vacuuming the salt. I felt kind of disappointed, but they can’t stay in Florida forever. They’ll be back eventually.