Stuff Your Mom Likes

1: Common Ground

"Bud, I did it!" My dad exclaimed through the phone.

"You did what?" I asked.

"I proposed to Em!"

"That's amazing! When's the wedding?"

"Probably in the spring. We haven't figured out all the details, but what we do know is that we want you to be one of the bridesmaids."

"I am deeply honored. Can Mom come?"

I knew it was a tricky question, but there was no way he could say no to having the mother of his favorite (and only) biological daughter at his wedding. I heard him hesitate over the phone, and I could see that stretched-out face he makes when he's unsure of what to say. His lips stretch out to the point where you can see the cracks in them, and the tips of his lips curve his mouth into an awkward frown. His teeth are on full display, his nostrils flare, and his eyes widen out of distress. After about ten seconds him hesitating to answer, he finally agreed to have her at the wedding.

"Yeah, sure, Bud, but only if she wants to come. Don't force her."

"'Course. I'm really happy for you and Emily. You do know she is completely out of your league, correct?"

"Yes, of course I know she's way out of my league. Women just keep getting prettier and prettier, I can't keep..."

"Dad, shut up, talk about that at the bar with your friends, not your daughter."

"Okay, Andy. Good luck at your first day of school tomorrow."

"I've been there for two years, I'm gonna kill it."

"I know you will, Bud. I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Bye."

"Lates."

I was actually quite sad to put down the phone with my dad. Most girls my age would find it hopelessly dorky and weird to have a scheduled phone call with your dad every single day, but I looked forward to it. The girls my age that find it hopelessly dorky and weird take their dads for granted because they probably lived with their fathers or at least had a father figure in their life. My father figure lived in Florida, while I lived in Seattle, Washington. I hardly got to see him, only two weeks during the summer, but it sufficed.

"Hon, I'm home!" My mom called to me a couple of minutes after I got off the phone with Dad. We had made sure to schedule the phone calls around times when she wouldn't be in the house, i.e.: when she was at work, when she was at her Church group, when she was protesting 'treatment' for homosexuality.

"Hey!" I replied, bouncing into the kitchen. "How was Church group-Deb."

"A little less of a bitch today," she laughed. I loved it when Mom laughed. Her face would light up with youth, and all of the stress she had been forced under during her thirty-five years of life that had become visible on her face just seemed to disappear.

"That Deb truly is getting better day by day," I joked. "Maybe tomorrow she'll stop saying that vaccines help channel Satan."

I kid you not, this woman actual believed that vaccines were the work of Satan.

"How's school preparation?" She asked.

"About as well as school's gonna go."

"So shitty?"

"Oh, so, so, so shitty. I got all my summer work done, I'm just not mentally ready."

"Will some bad Chinese food and some laughing at rich people's stupid problems help you feel better?"