Page 85 of Fight Or Flight

Oh, maybe that’s it.

She’s probably upset we were interrupted before she had a chance to wrangle the snake.

The day is young, though. There’s plenty of time for her to channel her inner Jack Hannah.

“There are three more than yesterday!” Dad roars from the window.

“You must’ve miscounted,” my mom says as she sits across from me and Brooklyn. I watch her take a long gulp of her cocktail. It’s five o’clock somewhere. She sets the red solo cup down and fixes her cold blue eyes on me.

Yikes!

Guess I’m not the favorite anymore.

“You look extra pretty this morning,” I tell her with a wink. “Did you do something with your hair?” It’s sticking up all over the place, but who doesn’t love a compliment every once in a while.

She opens and closes her mouth. I smile wider and she does it again, this time pointing a finger at me. Still no words. Silence is a good thing, some people even consider it golden. Then she reaches into her shirt and pulls three crumbled condom wrappers from her bra and tosses them up in the air like confetti. Oddly enough, she resembles that salt guy—you know the dude with the shades that sprinkles the salt like a boss. Him!

“Oh my God,” Brooklyn cries, tossing her head in her hands.

No need to call on him, he isn’t on our side.

“Explain,” my mom orders.

I raise an eyebrow. It seems like an odd request considering she birthed four kids, but maybe she needs a refresher course…Bella is seven.

“Alright, well, you know, we started kissing and then I took her shirt—”

Brooklyn jumps out of her chair and smacks her hand over my mouth.

“Are you crazy?” she hisses as I pull her hand away.

“She asked me to explain,” I defend.

“That’s not what she meant,” Brooklyn argues.

“I’m fully aware of the mechanics,” my mom clarifies, and I cringe.

“Yeah, I didn’t need to know that.”

“You mean like your little sister didn’t need to know about the snake in your shorts?” she volleys.

“Are you trying to put us in an early grave because we don’t have life insurance?” She flinches at her words and turns to Brooklyn, an apologetic expression on her face. “I’m sorry, that was callous of me.”

Frustrated, she pushes her fingers through the nest on top of her head and closes her eyes.

“Namaste, Kitten,” dad chants from across the kitchen. “Deep breaths.”

Her eyes spring open and her gaze settles on me. However, she doesn’t look like she wants to kill me anymore. I guess Yogi is onto something.

“I’m struggling, here, Eric. First, you spring this Army thing on us, and not twelve hours later I’m calming your sister down, telling her you weren’t actually being attacked by a reptile.” She sighs and glances at the wrappers decorating the table. “I’m glad you have enough sense to make sure you are both safe, but it’s a lot for me to digest.”

“It’s fucking crazy is what it is,” Dad interjects.

Is this guy for real? What happened to the no glove, no love speech? He should be giving me a pound right now.

“You gave me the condoms,” I point out.

“I gave you a toy motorcycle once too, but I don’t see you riding that.”

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