No Strings Attached

Chapter 9

I sat through the rest of my classes, hardly paying any attention to anything my instructors said. It's not like they were lecturing, so it didn't matter. I was having such a good day, too. And then they just fucking ruined it!

The grip I had on my pencil was getting tight, I suppose, because some kid tapped me and mouthed if I was alright. I told her I was fine. It's not like she actually would have cared if I said no. It's just common courtesy to ask that.

At my locker at the end of the day I avoided Parker's flirtatious advances and made a beeline for the sidewalk off campus. I held back the tears and made my way home.

Dad wasn't supposed to finish his shift at the University until six, so by the time I got back home, I had two hours to myself. I used the peace and quiet to work on homework and study. By 5:15 I had completed a short essay for English, made a few flashcards for Mandarin, and studied some Anatomy and History notes.

Out of boredom, I wandered the apartment and eventually wound up in Dad's room. I studied all the degrees on his dresser that he had yet to bring to his office. He was a psychologist at the University in Cheyenne, where he both taught and researched. I couldn't tell you how much he assisted me when I took all my biology-centered AP classes. At Boston Uni, he was no longer a researcher, but from what I understood, a professor's salary at that school was not completely terrible. I knew I had to get a part-time job eventually, but he insisted that I at least settle in before I thought about applications.

Next to his diplomas was a shoebox. He hasn't had time to buy shoes, I thought curiously. I opened the lid to investigate the mysteries of the contents inside. They were pictures, and letters, and cards. I picked up the paper on top. It was a cheesy Hallmark birthday card.

"Happy Birthday, my Love!

May your birthday be fun,

With no work to be done!"

Then, underneath that stupid poem, a handwritten message was written out.

"I can promise fun, but it may require some work. Love, Doe"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Mom!" I exclaimed. I couldn't help but grin, though, at her innuendo. I had always shipped my parents, even before I knew what shipping was. They were so happily married. But I wasn't really close to my dad for some reason until the cancer.

I read the message over again. Doe, I repeated. Why did he call her that, again? I tried to remember. It had something to do with her name, Clare. Her real name was Clarice, but everyone called her Clare. It was always such a pretty name, I had thought. It hit me suddenly. That movie, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. That Claymation film from, like, the 60s. Rudolph's girlfriend, Clarice, somehow reminded Dad of Mom. And her light brown hair and big eyes gave the impression of a deer to him. So he called her Doe. It was a simple nickname, but adoring nonetheless.

I set the card aside and looked for pictures of her. Among small other things, like pictures at Mount Rushmore and summer vacations, their wedding picture stood out the most to me. There was no way to tell if the photo was pre- or post-wedding, but sometime around there. He was holding her small body close to his chest, kissing the crown of her head. She had her eyes closed and a slight smile on her face. It looked like they were dancing out in the middle of a field.

I smiled at how young they both looked, and eighteen years later, my dad's hair was almost completely grey, and facial wrinkles were clearly visible, but his brown eyes were unchanged.

I found a picture of my mom during chemotherapy, and compared the two images. Apart from her lack of hair and pale skin, she really didn't look that much older. And the aging she did experience was likely a result of the chemo. She was always so beautiful. It's no wonder my dad fell in love with her.