Page 33 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
She smiles as if reading my thoughts and turns her attention back to her phone.
Inching up, I look over her shoulder and read as she toggles over to her student email account. One inbox heading reads:Business Fellow Program.
Once, during a social compatibility session during astronaut training (required as NASA is effectively launching a bunch of high-achieving individuals into space to live in tight quarters with each other for months on end), I read a research paper on different personality strengths. One of them was humor. The paper delved into the intellection levels of famous comedians. Almost all of them have an above average IQ.
It makes sense when you think about how fast funny people’s minds have to work. How, in order to hit just the right note of hilarity, they need to have a firm understanding of their contextual landscape while taking into account the variables of the audience.
I reach for my own phone on the floor next to the bed, still in my back jean pocket, and google Baylor Business Fellows. A minute later I have a newfound respect for the woman next to me.
The Business Fellows program is a separate division of the standard business degree that you have to apply for evenafterbeing accepted into Baylor University, a prestigious school in its own right. A student needs to be ranked in the top three percent of their class and have National Merit status.
In other words, Rose West, billionaire and National Merit scholar, is going places. She’ll have no problem letting me go when it’s time for me to fly. I’ll be a small blip on her way to world domination.
No wonder she’s so good at ignoring me.
She lets go of her phone long enough to slap my shoulder. “All right, old man. You need to head out. I gotta go see your mamma about a pole.”
“Ugh.” I sink back on my pillow, arm over my eyes. “I forgot it’s Sunday.”
Rose laughs, getting out of bed. I watch as she walks over to the en suite bathroom door.
“Are you gonna drive your mom again?” she calls out once she closes the door.
“No, thank God.” I raise my voice but stay in bed, too comfortable to contemplate moving quite yet. The sheets smell like sugar, spice, and glitter. “I only drove her last time because her car was having its tires rotated.”
“Hmmm.” Water starts running, and a minute later she emerges, walking toward the closet. “Are we doing this on the down-low or are we lying to people?” As she’s still naked, it takes me longer to answer.
“What do you mean?”
She pulls open the double doors and steps inside. From my vantage point on the bed, her closet looks bigger than my entire apartment.
“I mean, the questions. Everyone always has questions.” She moves farther in so I can’t see her, but I hear drawers opening. “Like your mother. I may have told her we banged.”
I cringe.
“Sorry not sorry,” Rose adds. “Plusyou asked me out in front of her.”
“Yeah, I forgot about that,” I mumble.
Another drawer closes. “Besides giving you a sex education refresh, I’m sure she’s gonna have lots of questions.”
“Thanks again for that, by the way.” I shiver, remembering my mother’s ‘talk.’
“You’re welcome,” she sing-songs.
Brat.
“And then there are the girls. You came on pretty strong last night. There is no way they’re just going to let that go.”
“Why don’t we just tell them the truth?” Seems simple enough.
“Yeah, that’ll work.” Rose clears her throat. “Hey, Helen, don’t mind me, I’m just banging your son like a tasty side-piece.”
“Tasty side-piece?”
“You prefer old man?”
“Tasty side-piece works.”
