Chapter 66

Susan's turn:

I'm waiting for the aliens to show up.

Here's how I figure it will break down. Nikki and Cindy will work with Terri and Rachel on the Star Wars squirrel denial system. They'll actually GET that 95 gigahertz transmitter, and in the process of modulating its output so that it only severely annoys squirrels instead of cooking them on the spot out there in the yard, they'll transmit a signal into space where it will be picked up by an alien spacecraft. The aliens will come down to OUR yard in Auburn, Alabama.

I only hope that the visiting aliens are something cute, like ewoks, instead of some sort of morbid gelatinous mass that crawled out of the Cthulhu Mythos.

Gee, Susan! What brought that excursion on?

Easy-peasy! Cindy's mom.

We're mostly over it now, at least the phugoids have reached a somewhat stable state.

We still get some little wiggles in the abnormality trace, though.

"Susan, you said you didn't need to do a class next Tuesday, right?" Cindy asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Anything planned?"

"Not right now. Whatcha got?"

"Need somebody to drive me an' Mom to Birmingham."

"She can't drive?"

"No, she's gonna be kinda sedated. It's her first visit to that dermatologist."

"Ah, that tattoo removal guy."

"Yeah," Cindy nodded. "One of those happy little holdovers from the previous life."

"Yes, I will absolutely do it, baby sister."

"Thank youuu!" Cindy chirped.

Cindy's mom is now part of our circle. Cindy says her mom is sort of a project, a work in progress. I know some of Cindy's story. We all do.

And naturally, that's caused a bit of adjustment. As in, "Susan, I am NOT fragile. If your husband wants a beer, let him have one. I won't have a meltdown."

"I'm just tryin' to help," I replied.

"Good. Just be Susan and get your husband his beer."

Giggle. "Let 'im get his own beer."

"Go get his beer, Susan," Donna told me in front of several of our crowd. "You don't want to be the formerly married Susan, do you?"

Now I laughed. "Donna, he's not here for the beer!"

She looked at me, up and down. Smiled. "No, I suppose he's not."

"And thank you for trying to take care of me, Donna," Jason said amid laughter.

So, in little steps, we learn that Cindy's mom is actually quite a nice, intelligent person, leading us to understand a little bit of where Cindy gets a lot of what makes her, you know, Cindy. I'm told the same thing by everybody about my own mom and dad, and when they come down for a visit, they fit in, too.

Jason's mom and dad are the blueprints for Jason, as well.

Cindy, though ... Her mom wears long-sleeved blouses all the time, as well as slacks or jeans.

"Tattoos," Cindy said. "Permanent reminders of bad decision-making."

"They're common, Cindy," I said. "Look around today."

"I know. But you know and I know, the stigma's still there. Unless you're a Marine or a Navy SEAL. Getting' drunk with a bunch of your loser buddies and wakin' up with tribal tattoos..."

"Oh, you're talkin' about Brody now." Brody was the smart-assed janitor that took care of one of our buildings on campus. He hits on anything with two X chromosomes. He likes to make suggestive remarks about him being a REAL man.

"Yeah. Brody. Tribal tattoo. What tribe, Susan?"

"The Alabama Tribe of the Great American Dumbass," I said.

"A girl's mom is not supposed to have tattoos," Cindy opined.

I asked Jason.

"That's a question I asked you early on, baby," he said.

"Deal-breaker?"

"I dunno. Might've made an exception for you. Depends on the location. Ankle? Maybe."

"Titty?"

"Nope. Pubic area? Come on, Susan! That means that you laid there and let some 'tattoo artist' prod around your privates, and you thought that was a good idea."

"Lower back?"

"Nope. Who's been looking at that?" he snorted. "I know some girls that have 'em. Those tattoos have had more viewers than the Mona Lisa at the Louvre."

"Jason!"

"Truth shouldn't hurt unless it oughtta. You'll notice that I'm not with any of those girls. Got me a pure pink Susie!"

"Y'all stop it. You're embarrassing," Cindy squeaked.

"Oh, yeah ... Like you 'n' Dan don't do public displays of affection yourselves."

"We're just ... restrained," Cindy retorted.

"Uh, NO," Jason laughed.

"Well Mom's got ALL those tattoos. Every area you mentioned."

"She's trying to get 'em removed," I said.

"Which costs more than getting' 'em in the first place," Cindy sighed.

"And that's usually the case with poor decisions, you know," Jason said. "But she's trying. That's a good thing."

"That's a good thing," Cindy repeated.

Yeah, Cindy's mom is not the only one we're helping along during this effort.

School. Susan continues her education efforts. Some parts have been more of an effort than others. Like math. I had no problems with high school math, even the advanced placement courses. I took trig and calculus. But I started bogging down at Auburn. It's the first time I have EVER run into a wall in my education experience, and I must admit that it bothered me. A lot. As in 'sit in a corner of my own apartment and maybe cry a little'. Or 'Maybe I'm just not cut out to BE an engineer'.

Jason saw it. It didn't happen just once, either.

Here's what I think. I think that if I didn't have the support of the community, the sisterhood in specific, I would've dropped engineering. Instead, I got two tutors, both of whom talked and demonstrated their ways out of engineering math entirely, tutors who loved me like a sister. With help like that, I broke through the blocks. Didn't make the 'A' that I would have liked. Ended with a 'B'. First 'B' since I hit high school. Devastated.

Sitting in Jason's lap. That's my new 'happy place'. Sitting there with real tears on my cheeks, being comforted.

"Muffin," he says, kissing me as I'm on the edge of sobbing, disappointed in myself, "You're taking electrical engineering. If you wanted straight 'A's', you should've gone to one of those colleges where you could take 'Womyn's Studies' or something. And you're beating yourself up over a 'B'? I'm PROUD I got MY 'B'."

At least the instructors didn't write me off. All my tremors and spasms took place off campus.

Doctor E – Doctor Embert – at the railgun project took me aside, too. "Mizz Ellerbee, it has come to my attention that you had some issues with math. A 'B'."

"Yes ma'am. Should I clear out my desk drawer?" Several of us shared the desks. We each had our own drawer. "And my locker?" It's a lab. I have hard hat and safety equipment and a pair of coveralls in there.

I guess I looked really sad.

"Hardly. Lady, if I thought you weren't up to the level of contribution we desired on this project, you'd have been weeded out by now. You know that."

I did know that. I remember a few faces who no longer appear.

"I didn't bring you in here just because you're part of some 'supergirl' package with Nikki and Cindy and Tina. I watch. You contribute. I measure. You earn your way."

"Then..."

"Then buck up, Susan. I can see your disappointment, but you're not the first star to find yourself challenged in college in ways that high school never did." She smiled. "I was one of those. Had somebody not offered a little help, coupled with a kick in the knickers, I'd likely be middle management at The Gap or some such."

So Susan Ellerbee is still on track to graduate NEXT year. Oh, what I didn't tell you is that those math courses that almost did me in were SENIOR level courses. Most students get them by progressing through steps in their freshman, sophomore, and junior years. I tested and interviewed through those and got tossed right into the senior courses. I felt like a mall cop going up against the Mafia.

I made it, though. After that first semester, I told 'em to dump 'em on me. Of course, there were still a few calls to Cindy or Nikki. "Help! Come tell me why what I'm doing isn't right!"

So Mommy's Little Susan is making it through college.

Jason's Little Susie is one happy camper.

Says my sister Tina, "I just ran an analysis of the calendar for the last six months. Guess who wins the 'privacy block' prize?"

I giggled. "If it was Cindy or Nikki, you wouldn't be asking me. and I personally don't know what the problem is. It's a perfectly lovely part of the relationship between a woman and her pet."

The 'pet' part got 'er.

"Okay, you're forgiven."

"Especially since Jason and I pull Terri out so YOU can abuse poor Alan."

"Uh, that's a two-way street. Half the time, Terri's presence is what keeps Jason from looking like a child molester at those animated movies he likes."

Giggle. "There is THAT," I said. "The boy does like 'im some animation." I made a big show of retrieving my iPhone. "And right here in front of you, I am putting a black block up for this evening. He's doing an economics class today. The boy will require soothing."

Darned if we didn't soothe the living daylights out of each other.

"What did I ever do to deserve a princess like, you, Golden Girl," Jason said when he caught his breath after the last one.

"Nothing you could ever do," I said. "You're just incredibly lucky."

"Girl, don't I know it," he replied. He rolled over towards me again.

I sighed. He plays me like Kara plays her violin, in other words, masterfully. You know, I think back to all those conversations in high school, whether I just overheard or actually participated, and none of them, not a single one, expressed the kind of joy I experience with my Jason.

And it's a perfectly acceptable thing to rape your husband when he walks in the door. You can buy all sorts of food in this town if you happen to need to bypass all that cooking stuff.

And it's really hard to call it 'rape' if he walks in grinning because he's seen the black block on the community calendar.

And it's not unheard of, when that black block is over, to get a phone call.

"Hi, Terry."

"Hi, Aunt Susan," she says. "Y'all finished?"

"Our private time?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"We are."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"I think me 'n' Jason are going out to that burger place. Wanna come with us?"

Squeeel! "Can I? Jason won't mind?"

"Lemme ask 'im."

"Ask me what?" Jason said as he walked into the living room, buckling his belt.

"Is it okay if Terri comes with us?"

I watched my husband's face. Didn't see a hint of disappointment.

"Of course she can. Rachel, too?"

"I heard," Terri said. "No, she's at home. I just want some onion rings. I already had dinner."

"Come on, baby. We'll feed you onion rings." And I'll give Tina one of those 'I know what you did last night' looks tomorrow.

A minute and a half later, Terri was knocking at the door. Jason let her in, gathering a hug from a munchkin in the process. She came up to me.

"Tina-mom said to give you a message."

"What's that, baby?"

"She said "Pffft!" sticking her tongue.