Page 4 of Mom-Com
By the time I found my office and got settled in, I had to rush back out and find the classroom where I’d be teaching a Biology 101 class that semester. Yes, I was now the head of the department, but I still taught three classes. I was happy with that arrangement as it kept my feet on the ground and my safety goggles in a science lab every week.
After class with a delightful load of new, eager students—hopefully my sarcasm was apparent—I hightailed it back to my office for lunch and then an afternoon of getting my office organized.
The Star Wars theme song blared from the bottom of my satchel not long after I sat down at my desk. I fished it out and answered, knowing it was my dad from his ring tone.
“Father. Happy Monday.”
“Greetings to you as well, my son.” He chuckled, loving the act of Mr. Proper when we both knew it was just a matter of time before the f-bombs came flying. “You’ll never guess what I’m working on.”
“You’re using the Advanced Light Source to dissect DNA damage that leads to RNA transcription errors, thus leading to curing cancer,” I deadpanned.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he boomed. “I’m using the ALS to create high-capacity lithium battery electrodes so I can make millions of dollars and retire before I’m dead.”
“Careful. Your capitalism is showing...”
“Enough bullshit, Jameson,” he huffed, obviously done with my teasing. “I’m calling because I had a moment of weakness this weekend. I was feeling old, so I went through all those boxes in the attic you call a fire hazard and decided to put together an online album of sorts about my parents, about my life, and then you and Stein can add to it over time as well. Basically, I’m creating a living, breathing time capsule, thus making myself immortal. Impressed yet?”
I rolled my eyes. That was so my father. “Better than your decapitated head in a cryo chamber somewhere.”
“That’s not a bad idea either, but I’m still alive and kicking right now, so I’ll stick to the time capsule. Anyway, I came across some articles yesterday in an old box that I think you should see. I scanned them and emailed them to you. I’ll wait.”
Silence ensued and I realized he wanted me to log into my email and read it right now. No one said no to Mr. MacMillan without the time and energy to fight the battle that transpired. I had neither the time nor the energy, so I opened my laptop and found his email.
I scanned over the attached documents and barked out a laugh when the meaning hit me. “Are you serious with this?”
“As a heart attack.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. Maybe I needed glasses after all. I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing. An article, written by Loni Sanders, the pseudonym my grandmother used in her magazine column days, was sitting in my inbox, the title mocking me.
Fifty Ways to Find a Wife
“I—What—” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Why did you send this to me?”
And then I heard it. The low-pitched wheeze that signaled my eardrums were about to split wide-open. I pulled the phone away from my ear just in time as he let out the loudest guffaw known to man. I was surprised my phone case didn’t crack under the pressure.
“Breathe, Dad.” If I knew the man, and I did, his face was bright red and he was laughing so hard he wasn’t breathing. Just wind whistling through his throat in gasps and spurts.
“It’s just...” He cackled again, his words coming out in between fits of laughter. “So ridiculous...who would follow...I can’t believe...my own mother...wrote such shit!”
Then he was off in another fit of laughter and I couldn’t help the smile that tugged on my lips. His laugh was highly contagious if a bit alarming. And he had a point: the article was crazy. I read through the list of fifty ways while I gave my father some time to calm himself. Granny actually had a few really interesting ones, likeIf your girl is ill, call from work to check on her health.
That sounded like genuinely good advice. It was always a good idea to show you cared. MaybeBe courageous, don’t be a sissywas a little harsh, but I saw her point. Women loved a dashing hero, right?
“I’ll forward any more gems I come across.” Rustling could be heard on the other end of the line. I was guessing it was my father wiping the tears from his ruddy cheeks.
“Yeah, okay, sounds good.” I hung up, distracted. I couldn’t stop reading the list. And as I read, a lightbulb flared to life in my head. Maybe that lucky penny my neighbor picked up this morning meant good luck for me instead of her. Because everything was coming together. I’d started my new job, Stein started a new school, and I had the perfect idea to prove my theory correct.
I’d unleash the fifty ways to find a wife on my next-door neighbor and when it failed spectacularly, I’d prove once and for all that romantic love doesn’t exist.
For Stein.
And for me.
Brilliant.
3
Lily-Marie
