Mack Daddy(6)
Chuckling, I conceded. “Well, okay then. I guess there’s always time for cake.”
I followed her into the house, which was a dated, split-level design. It had the same layout as the house I’d bought, except mine was much more modern inside.
“I can save a piece of cake for Jonah when he comes this weekend. There’s not really that much rum in it.”
“He’d love that. Thank you.”
I couldn’t help the fleeting thought that a little rum might do some good for my son’s mood.
“How’s he been adjusting to the new school?”
“Whenever I ask, he tells me his day was okay, but he wouldn’t tell me if it wasn’t.”
“Every day will get a little better.”
“Thank you. I hope so.”
“What is it you do for a living again?”
“I’m a business intelligence analyst.”
“Sounds fancy.”
“Yeah. Well, it’s just a fancy way to describe someone who gathers data. It allows me to not have to go into an office, and since I work for myself, I can be there for my son when he needs me. His mother has a different kind of job. She travels a lot. So, it’s more important for me to have flexibility so he never has two parents gone at once.”
“What does she do?”
“Before we moved here, she was a political consultant in D.C. She started out working as an aide to my father.”
“Who’s your father?”
“Michael Morrison, the Virginia senator.”
“Wow.”
The last thing I wanted was to talk about my father. “We won’t get started on him,” I said. “Anyway, Torrie sort of moved her way up in the ranks over the years and was just recruited by a public affairs and advocacy firm in Boston, which is why we moved.”
“Wow. Smart people, you folks are.”
“Not really. It might sound like it, but no. Far from it. We’ve made a lot of mistakes,” I said, playing with the whipped cream frosting on my cake.
“What’s wrong, Mack?”
Her question caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“You seem to have something preoccupying you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Just a sense I get.”
“It’s nothing, Mrs. M.”
She put her fork down, and it clanked against the table. “I’ve got the time, Mack. Does it look like I have anything better to do? I’m a lot cheaper than a shrink. I have no one to even tell your secrets to. Take advantage of me. Lord knows, if I were younger, those words might have meant something else. But I’m old enough to be your grandmother.” Sliding a glass of milk toward me, she said, “I could use some drama.”
She was making me laugh. “Alright. You ready for a doozy?”
“Shoot.”
You asked for it.
“I’m in love with my son’s teacher.”
“Already? You move fast.”
“It’s not what you think. It’s much more complicated than that.”
“Lay it on me. I can take it.”
“Frankie was my roommate back when we were both in school in Boston several years ago. I was in grad school studying political science. She was undergrad for teaching. We have a long history.”
“You’ve already banged her.”
I bent my head back in laughter.
She seemed surprised by my reaction to her bluntness. “What?”
“I just don’t expect certain things to come out of your mouth.”
“Like this?” She reached into her mouth, took out her teeth, and cackled.
I laughed even harder.
This woman was a trip.
She positioned her dentures back into place and said, “Look…I have grandchildren and cable. I know the terminology.”
I wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes. “Gotcha.”
“So, you banged your son’s teacher.”
“Actually, no.”
“No?”
“No.”
“We were just friends for a long time. Then things gradually changed. I never expected what happened between us to develop. But it never got to that point with Frankie.”
“Why not?”
“That’s a story for another day, Mrs. M.”
“Maybe real rum instead of rum cake for that conversation?”
Taking a bite full of my cake, I said, “Without a freaking doubt.”
I was unable to concentrate. Mack was coming in this afternoon to read to the class, and that was preventing me from focusing.
The students were working on some math worksheets, and I looked over at Jonah who had finished before everyone else. That was typical; he was one of the smarter kids in the class. His social anxiety certainly had no bearing on his academic progress.