Zach emailed Em on Tuesday morning.
Z: Dad wants me to hit Cali with him for a few days, so we might have to play catch-up with organic molecules when I get back at the end of the week. Maybe we can do some more research on testosterone. He found an appropriate emoticon; cute, but not too girly or naughty.
E: WHO THE FUCK IS KALI, ONE OF YOUR FATHER’S BIMBOS? AND OF COURSE YOU WANT TO EXPLORE TESTOSTERONE, YOU’RE A FUCKING MAN! I’LL JUST BE HERE RUNNING FROM ONE CLASS TO THE NEXT, WRITING LIKE A MANIAC, STUDYING MY ASS OFF, DOING THE FUCKING DISHES IN THE BIOLOGY LAB, SIX THOUSAND FUCKING DIRTY BEAKERS AND FLASKS, TEN FUCKING PAGES OF NOTES ON PROTEINS AND NUCLEIC ACIDS AND EXAMS COMING UP NEXT WEEK AND YOU’LL BE OFF WITH YOUR FATHER FUCKING KALI! FINE. WHATEVER! She went with skull and crossbones.
Z: California? The state? Cali? He’s thinking about moving there, leaving the city, wanted to get my opinion, of the area and maybe my next step-mother. He’s met a woman from Marin. How you doing? Just a smiley face this time.
E: HOW AM I DOING? JUST FOR THE PRIVILEGE OF HAVING MY GONADS UP INSIDE MY BODY AND THIS FUCKING PIT FOR INCUBATION OF BABIES THAT YOU AND YOUR KIND ALL WANT TO POKE AT SO YOU CAN DELIVER YOUR IMPORTANT FUCKING DNA CARRYING SPERM, I’VE GOT TO WALK AROUND WHILE THE INSIDES OF THAT PIT RIP THEMSELVES APART AND COME OOZING OUT THAT TUNNEL OF LOVE YOU SO WANT TO EXPLORE! AND IT HURTS! IT’S LIKE THE WORSE SHIT CRAMP YOU’VE EVER HAD IN YOUR LIFE FOR TWO OR THREE FUCKING DAYS, ALONG WITH ANYTHING FROM A DELUGE TO DRIBBLE OF BLOOD, SOMETIMES BIG CLOTTED MASSES OF IT, FUCKING TISSUE LEVEL SHIT! THAT’S HOW I’M DOING. She decided on the rage face instead of the tears.
Z: Ah, your moon time.
E: MOON TIME?! MOON TIME?! WHAT KIND OF FUCKING RIDICULOUS PSEUDO SCIENTIFIC FEMINIST CLAPTRAP IS THAT? DO YOU WANT TO PUT FORTH THE HYPOTHESIS THAT THE HORMONAL CYCLES OF THE HUMAN FEMALE ARE TIED TO A FUCKING HUNK OF DEAD ROCK STUCK IN THE EARTH’S ORBIT? SURE, WE SYNCHRONIZE, WHAT THE FUCK HAS THAT GOT TO DO WITH THE MOON?
Z: There really could be some sound basis for a connection between gravitational pull in a given area and physiological responses. The woman of the tribe I stayed with for a little while in Amazonia seemed to think so. And if you get on the pill, it’s not so bad. Or at least that’s what the girls tell me. A winkie.
E: THE PILL? THE FUCKING PILL? SO I DELUDE MY BODY INTO THINKING ITS PREGNANT AND PUT MY PRECIOUS PUSSY AND THE PIT AND MY DISPOSITION INTO SOME STATE MORE SUITABLE TO YOUR FUCKING NEEDS? WHAT ABOUT MY NEEDS? I’D NO MORE POISON MY BODY WITH THAT SHIT THAT I’D POISON IT WITH FUCKING ORTHOPHOSPHATES! WERE THE FUCKING AMAZONS YOU WERE FUCKING ALL ON THE FUCKING PILL?????
Z: Orthophosphates? WTF, it was pretty clear there was no point in trying to communicate right then, and he sure wasn’t going to get into a discussion of her needs. He couldn’t imagine that figuring out what turned her on was as simple as asking, even if that had been her approach with him.
E: THEY’RE FUCKING PESTICIDES! DON’T YOU KNOW ANYTHING???? WTF, she went with the weepy emoticon, she was sobbing by that point.
Z: Probably not very much. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? Frowney face.
E: Probably not. But thanks for asking. I have to go to class now. Bye. XO.
Zach got out the Biology book. He wanted to be ready for study with Emily when he got back from Cali.
Linda Brooke Stabler, Ph.D.