Page 3 of Mom-Com
“Sure, buddy. Why don’t you look through these boxes over here while I make your lunch?” I kept one eye on him as he picked his way through a box of kitchen utensils and one eye on making his lunch to his specifications. No sandwich crust, one cookie, fifteen green grapes, two string cheeses. I was hoping this finicky phase passed quickly, but given the genetics involved, I feared it might stick around for life. Like father, like son.
Lunch packed in the newly found lunch bag, we made a mad dash to brush teeth and layer on jackets. Yes, it was Southern California, but January could still be cold. Dress like winter in the morning, but have summer layers on underneath in case the sun came out full force in the afternoon.
Right as we got to the front door to leave, I knelt down and tugged him over to stand in front of me. His backpack was nearly as big as him. I looked him straight in his gray eyes, so like mine it was spooky.
“It’s a big day for both of us, buddy. We’re going to make new friends today and learn lots. Sound like a plan?” My heart was oddly pounding in my chest. It was like it was the first day of kindergarten all over again.
“You’re going to do great today, Dad, don’t worry.” He put his little hand on my shoulder and I nearly confessed the secret that all parents have: we’d literally do anything for these tiny little humans. The alarm on my phone went off, breaking the moment and keeping me from spilling my guts.
“Time to roll, Stein.” I stood up and ushered him out the door to my trusty Volvo. The safety rating was killer on that thing and with precious cargo on board, I didn’t trust anything without a five-star rating by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration.
He was just about buckled in when I heard the front door burst open next door. Out flowed two kids and one frazzled mother. They were putting on jackets as they hustled to their SUV, with the mom stopping to pick something up from the driveway.
“Ooh! Look, kids! It’s heads up. You know what that means.” She looked positively radiant, like a heads-up penny was some kind of omen for good luck, when in reality, it had been her own mistake that had caused her to drop it carelessly in the first place.
I shook my head at such utter foolishness. Even the notion of “luck” was just a simplified explanation for probability working out in your favor. Random things were usually not so random when you looked at the events that led to them. People who found “lucky” pennies were also found to be more apt to look at the ground when they walked, which led to finding more pennies because they were looking at the location where pennies would naturally be found. Luck? I didn’t think so.
I slid into the car and got the heater going while I watched them do the same. Regardless of her lack of sense when it came to luck, she was an attractive lady with her navy blue dress and wool coat. Her blond hair was curling down her back, a few pieces on the sides pinned back artfully. Her son looked to be about Stein’s age, so I made a mental note to introduce myself later.
As we drove to Stein’s new school, he kept up a steady stream of chatter from the back seat. I answered here and there, my thoughts darting around to all the things I needed to accomplish today on my first day at my new school too.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Did you love Mom when you had me?”
My brain froze and so did my whole body. Luckily we were stopped at a red light or who knows what ditch I would have driven into. Every horror story of having the birds and the bees talk with your kid swooped through my head. Was that what he was asking?
“Why do you ask?” I was careful to keep my tone neutral.
“Well, you said you met Mom at college, so maybe with this new college you might meet another girl and fall in love with her. Right?”
I shook my head to clear the cobwebs, grateful at least we’d staved off the sex talk for another day. “First of all, I don’t know if romantic love really exists. It’s biologically programmed in most species to care for and demonstrate love for their offspring. But only a few species display any inkling of affection for a mate. If anything, some species keep a mate to help out either with offspring or simply for survival, not because of any feelings. So, I can’t say I was ever in love with your mom. I cared for her, of course, but love? I don’t think that really exists, buddy. In fact, one of these days, I’ll prove it to you.”
Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw his face pinched, his gaze taking in the sidewalk as we zoomed through the neighborhood by his school.
“I don’t know what a shpee-zee is, but I think I know what you’re saying. So, if people don’t really love each other like that then why do they get married?”
I bit my lip to keep the smile off my face. He was so damn cute. Here I was spouting off about species and biology and he just wanted to know if I was going to find some woman at my new workplace and disrupt his life.
“I think people like companionship. They like to do things together, so they get married or live together, that’s all. But don’t worry, Stein. I have no intention of bringing home a woman from my new school.”
“Hey, that lady from next door is right behind us!” His attention span was that of a squirrel, always off to the next thing.
My gaze shifted to the rearview mirror and I saw her expressive face steering her big SUV into the parking lot of the school, just like Stein said. Guess her kids went to this school too. Maybe Stein and her son could be friends. A little bit of weight lifted from my shoulders at the thought.
“Bye, Dad!”
As soon as my car came to a stop, Stein unlocked his door and hopped out, swinging his backpack with him. I chuckled at his enthusiasm, realizing this wasn’t at all like kindergarten when he clung to my leg and begged me to stay. I tracked his progress into the school yard and then saw him approach the neighbor kid.
A car honked behind me and I rushed to put my car in gear. I guess my pretty neighbor was in a hurry. I’d learned quickly enough that school drop-off zones were like a war zone, every mom and dad for themselves. No time for loving glances and wistful goodbyes.
I pondered my conversation with Stein while I drove to PCC. He didn’t seem too concerned with a woman in my life, which made me relieved, but also adrift. How was I supposed to field questions to the satisfaction of a curious eight-year-old when I didn’t know the answer myself? I’d felt affection—and a lot of lust—for his mother back when we were in college, but I definitely wouldn’t call it love. When we split, I was ambivalent at best, which didn’t scream the L-word.
My brain was hatching a crazy idea: an experiment to prove once and for all that romantic love didn’t exist. I was a scientist. Proving things was my life’s work. This would be no different and it would finally lay to rest that question for Stein. And myself, if I was being honest.
A parking space with my name printed on a metal placard bolted to a post was waiting for me when I pulled into the new campus. My fingers itched to take a picture of it, but who would I send it to? My dad, the esteemed professor at Stanford? I didn’t think a parking space at a community college rated a picture. And I didn’t do that social media stuff, so what was the point?
