Terry Essig - Mad For The Dad

Rachel just about collapsed. “Your roommate and his girlfriend are…doing that while you’re in the room?” she squeaked. Oh, God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Mark paused in his spiel, evidently aware he may have gone too far. “Well, yeah, but it’s no big deal,” he quickly assured his mother. “I mean, you probably can’t remember back to when you were interested in sex, but it’s pretty normal for my age group, you know.”

Oh God, oh God, oh God. She should have had a talk with Mark before he’d left for school. She should have bought him some condoms, made sure they’d gotten into his suitcase. She’d gotten pregnant with Mark on prom night, her senior year in high school. It had been her first foray into the mysterious world of male-female—looking back on it, boy-girl—sex stuff. It had changed the direction of her entire life and Mark was only a few months past that point in his life. He needed at least another three or four years before he took a chance like that. It could change your life completely. Rachel knew.

She’d given Mark an eleven-thirty curfew on his prom night. Ron had smirked, but Rachel had been unwilling to take any chances. Was Mark making up for lost opportunities now?

And her son didn’t think she remembered the pull of sexual feelings? All she had to do was think about the rush she’d gotten just looking at Daniel Van Scott this afternoon and Rachel knew she wasn’t dead yet. Not by a long shot.

Mark cleared his throat. “Uh, Mom, you still there?”

Maybe, maybe not. This could all be some kind of strange out-of-body type experience. She wasn’t really having this bizarre phone conversation with her own, carefully raised son. “Mark, I’m afraid you’re going to have to talk to your father,” Rachel heard herself say. “Going through all your spending money in a little over a week was a choice you made. I guess as far as I’m concerned, my feeling is now you have to live with that decision. Either that or get a part-time job. At any rate, it’s something you’ll have to deal with.

“By the way, I found some of your old Tonka trucks when I was packing. I couldn’t help keeping them when your dad and I cleaned out the old house. I was thinking I’d give them to that little boy I was telling you about. He’s the perfect age for them.”

“What? You’re giving away my Tonkas? Not on your life. I still want those. That kid’ll just have to get his own toy trucks. Those are mine.”

Rachel shook her head and tried to organize her thoughts. Her collegiate, urbane son who talked about sex ever so casually refused to be parted from his toy trucks. Life was strange. Her son was strange. Heck, in all probability, she was strange. “Mark, I’m hanging up now. Let me know if you have any luck with your dad and call me again some time. But just to talk, you know? It would be nice to hear from you when you didn’t necessarily need something from me.”

Rachel hung up the phone after a series of motherly admonishments about studying hard and making sure he kept his new bicycle tethered with a lock through the bike’s frame, not just the tire. She thought about broaching safe sex, but Mark cut her off, which, when the phone call was all done, left her pacing the living room.

“Now I know how my own mother felt,” she muttered to the walls as she circled the room. “This is like a nightmare and he hasn’t even gotten anybody pregnant yet!” Maybe she should go out in the morning and by a box of condoms. Send them to him, just in case.

For some reason, condom shopping brought to mind Daniel and the idea hit that maybe she could confiscate a few out of the box before she sent it and keep them for herself.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rachel immediately chastised herself. “The poor man’s got his hands full without having to deal with your midlife sexual identity crisis as well.” Again she circled the room, gesturing with big sweeping movements of her hands as she lectured. “Besides, didn’t you learn anything from your experience with Ron? For crying out loud, the man talks you into bed—well, actually the grass in that corner of the football field under the scoreboard, but that’s just details— gets you pregnant, graciously marries you so you can work your fingers, hands, heck, your arms to the bone putting him through school and then the jerk sticks around barely long enough to get the kid out the door, before clearing out himself so fast I’m surprised he didn’t get something vital caught in the door when it swung shut after Mark.” Rachel paused and thought about that. “Actually it’s kind of too bad he didn’t.”

She shook her hand in the air. “Anyway, whatever, the point is, I thought we’d made our marriage work. Yes, it had gotten off to a rough start, but I thought we’d worked through all that and made it. What a fool I was. I don’t want Mark to have to get married, have this carry on to the second generation. And certainly, certainly I couldn’t live through it a second time myself.”

And Daniel Van Scott was simply too attractive for her peace of mind. Right then and there, Rachel made a vow to keep her distance. There was some kind of very odd, no doubt, chemical attraction at play here. She hadn’t felt it, well, in eighteen years, and she’d at least managed to convince herself it had been true love rather than adolescent hormones back then. She no longer wore the blinders of youth, and in a way, it hurt.

No, there was no point in making a fool of herself a second time.

Rachel slept, but not well. In the morning, she cooked a single egg and matched it up with a solitary piece of toast. She washed the one plate she’d dirtied, then took herself out for a walk to explore her new neighborhood. There was a small park a block and a half up. Rachel could see a bank of stores another block after that.

Rachel glanced at the park once more and thought. The sun was shining, the few clouds in the sky were on the run, and although it was September now, summer was still in the air. She walked up to the stores and bought a paperback novel at the drugstore and a foam cup of take-out coffee at the corner restaurant. Carting both items back to the park, Rachel made herself comfortable on a green wooden bench. Most of the toddlers surrounding her were happily playing and provided a pleasant white noise while she basked in the warm sun and read her book.

“Hey, what’s this, another day off? Or do you work nights?”

Rachel instantly knew who had settled on the bench next to her. That low-timbred voice had played a major part in her restlessness last night. “Hi, Daniel,” she said. “I assumed you’d be spending the morning getting your office set up.”

“Hey, Todd, no pushing. That other little boy was on the horsey first. You’ll have to wait your turn.” Daniel yawned and draped his arms along the bench back.

The tips of his fingers were very close to touching Rachel’s shoulders and she’d never been more aware of a man. Not even when she’d been sixteen.

“I got up early,” Daniel admitted, more pleased than he was comfortable with to find Rachel in the park. “Worked for a couple of hours before the champ woke up. I found a playpen in the back of his closet and set it up in the study. He played pretty happily in there for a little while, too. I figured we both deserved a break before lunch. I’ll get more done during his nap. Did you see that kid hit Todd? Where’s his mother? Why isn’t she watching that monster more closely?”

“Todd took his truck.”

“Oh, well, uh, Todd,” Daniel called out, “give the little boy’s toy back. I guess next time I better bring a couple of our own sand toys for him, huh?”

Rachel shrugged more casually than she was feeling. “You seem to be getting the feeling for this pretty quickly. It sounds like you managed just fine this morning.