Flirtasaurus

by Erin Mallon

  “Oh sweetheart, stop looking so sheepish,” Mom blushes and reprimands me. “How do you think you got here?”

  “I bet ole Kentrosaurus was constantly on the attack and tearing into dino flesh, huh?” Dad says with the enthusiasm of a schoolboy.

  “Actually, Dad, he was a toothless, narrow-skulled, beaked dinosaur who could basically only eat low-lying plant sources that ended up close to his head.”

  “A beak, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh. Well, whatever. Next question. Could dinosaurs mate with different dinosaurs?”

  Oh, boy.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, for instance, a tiger and a lion can do the deed and create a liger, yeah?”

  “Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Mom says. “That’s not a thing.”

  “No, it’s true actually, Mom. Ligers are a thing,” Mark says.

  “Right?” Dad says. “They’re a thing. A zebra and a donkey can create a zonkey. A grizzly bear and a polar bear can create a grolar bear. A cow and a buffalo can create a beefalo.”

  “Dad, why do you know so much about hybrid sex in the animal kingdom?” I ask.

  “Well, the internet is just a gorgeous place, isn’t it? I mean, how did we boomers live without it for so many decades? Our Encyclopedia Brittanicas could only offer us so much.” He turns his attention to our guest. “I wear the boomer title proudly, Ralph. I know you young people like to use it as an insult, but if retiring early, holding eighty percent of the country’s net worth, and being part of the longest-living generation in history is insulting, well then consider my feelings hurt as hell. Hahaha!”

  “Understood, Ken,” Ralph says politely.

  “So anyway, I’m thinking the existence of ligers, zonkeys, grolar bears, and beefalos proves that dinos could do the deed with any other dino they’d like, and produce some pretty great offspring, yeah? I mean they were all dinosaurs after all.”

  It seems my father has worked up quite a thesis statement on this subject.

  “True,” I say. “Though, think about it this way. You don’t see ostriches and canaries creating… canostriches, do you? But they’re both birds. You don’t see sharks and minnows creating… shinnows. Both fish. And you don’t see capybaras and chipmunks creating… capybaramunks. But they’re both rodents. Same with dinosaurs. It’s likely that your pal Kentrosaurus could mate with a Tuojiangosaurus since they’re both a part of the Stegosauridae family, but it’s pretty ludicrous to think that an absolutely massive twelve-ton Diplodocus and a seven-pound Micropachycephalosaurus could possibly come together to create a Diplodochycephalosaurus.”

  “My baby girl is so fucking smart. I don’t understand half the words that come out of her mouth, but I know whatever she’s saying is impressive.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “But wait, Callie, didn’t you say that you thought Trix and Monty could have been lovers—?”

  “Ralph? Can it!” I say. I’m not proud of my reaction. But I’m also not a fan of him seeing me in this situation with my family. I’m even less of a fan of him participating in it. It feels so… exposing.

  The rest of the meal continues in much the same way: my family teaming up on me, and Ralph doing his darnedest to assuage both sides. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was a great buffer. The whole experience is making me feel insanely uncomfortable, though.

  We’re in the kitchen helping Mom gather the things we need for dessert—Ralph’s idea, not mine—when Mom says, “Ralph, I find it fascinating that you’re an astronomer.”

  “Oh, thank you. Yeah, I really love it. Never a dull moment when you’re working to unlock 13.8 billion years of the mysteries of the universe!”

  “You mean 10,000 years.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Excuse me?” Ralph asks my mom with a tepid smile.

  “The Earth and Heavens were created by God 10,000 years ago.”

  “Oh, gosh…” I can see Ralph trying to figure out whether Mom is joking or not.

  I know this woman. And joking, she is not.

  I decide to step in and save us all from ourselves.

  I scoop up two platters of assorted cookies. “I’ll take these out to the table, Mom! Ralph, how ’bout you bring that carafe of coffee out, kay?” I don’t wait for a response from either of them and shuffle to the dining room where the rest of the family is assembled. Ralph and Mom trail me.

  Ralph doesn’t take the hint, though, and continues the conversation. “Susan, the um. The universe began 13.8 billion years ago through the Big Bang.”

  “The Big Bang?” Dad says. “Uh-oh, is Suzie telling you about our activities from last night?”

  He scooches his chair way too close to where Ralph is now sitting and leans into him in full bro mode. “She’s always bragging, Ralph. I’m constantly telling her, I tell her ‘Suzie Q, giving the play-by-play of our home dates only makes people jealous. What happens in our bedroom stays in our bedroom.”

  “I wish,” Mark mutters. “Why do you insist on calling them home dates, Dad?”

  My little brother is a punk, but I feel for him. Oh, the things he must see and hear in this house.

  “Well, son, I’ve learned that in this family, home dates is a more acceptable term than bone dates even though that descriptor is the far more accurate. I’d use it if I weren’t surrounded by so many squares and prudes.”

  “Pfft. The Big Bang!” As I expected, Mom can’t let this one go. “Everyone knows the Big Bang is a bunch of baloney! That’s why they call it a theory.”

  Ralph chokes on a cookie.

  I slap him on the back.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine, fine. Um. How so, Suzie?” Ralph sputters out, sounding like a cross between a prepubescent boy and a carburetor.

  “Call me, Mrs. FitzGerald, please.”

  Yikes. Mom is being a bit chilly all of a sudden.

  “Alright then. I can do that,” Ralph says, sounding a bit hurt.

  “Ralph, what is your background?” Mom asks as she pours coffee.

  “Uh-oh. Watch out, dude.” My little brother coughs into his elbow.

  “My background, ma’am?” Ralph asks politely.

  “Yes.” Mom smiles, but it feels forced. “Your background.”

  “Uh, what aspect of my—”

  “She wants to know if you’re Catholic,” I interrupt. “Mom, I’m not even Catholic anymore.”

  “Nonsense! You were baptized and confirmed, and when it’s your time to return to our Lord, you’ll receive last rights as well.”

  “Is Mom finally trying to kill Calliope?” Scott gets in a jab.

  “The kid is Jewish, Suzie Q,” Dad offers.

  “You’re Jewish?” my mom asks as seriously as if she’s inquiring whether or not he’s on Philadelphia’s Most Wanted list.

  But Ralph rolls right along with the punches. “I am, yeah. Emphasis on the ‘ish,’ though.”

  “You knew this, Ken?”

  “Yeah, Mom, Ralph mentioned upon our arrival that he was a Jewish vegan—hence the reason he couldn’t partake in the spiral ham tonight—and Dad threatened to throw him out because he killed Jesus.”

  “It was a joke! Ralph, my apologies again. What I should have said was… ‘all are welcome here.’ Besides, it wasn’t really the Jews who killed Jesus. It was that punk-ass Pontius Pilot. What a piece of work that guy was, huh? Oh, and Judas, of course. Fucking traitor.”

  Mom scrunches up her forehead. “Ken, you know I’ve always felt terrible for poor Judas. I mean, where would we all be if he hadn’t betrayed Jesus?”

  “Doomed to the firepits of hell?” I say with enough snark that it should be obvious I’m being sarcastic.

  “Doomed to the firepits of hell. That’s exactly right, baby,” Mom says proudly and smiles at me fo
r what feels like the first time tonight.

  I guess not obvious enough.

  Mom turns her attention back to Ralph. “Ralph, I’m sorry, uh… I don’t, uh… I don’t, uh… I don’t, uh… I don’t, uh… I don’t, uh—”

  “Mom, your record is skipping,” Mark says.

  “I don’t, uh… What do you mean by an emphasis on the ‘ish?’”

  “Just that I’m Jewish by descent. My dad’s side. But I lived with my mom, so it wasn’t a real present thing for me. Certainly never a devout, religious thing. I hit a Passover dinner once every few years or so. Lit some Hanukkah candles a handful of times, but that was about it. Wasn’t even bar mitzvahed.”

  “Oh. Well, okay then.” Mom seems to simultaneously relax and tense.

  “Is this… a problem?” Ralph asks slowly.

  I pipe in. “Of course, it’s not a problem!”

  “No, it’s not a problem,” Mom says.

  “See, it’s not a problem! Mmm. These cookies kick major ass. You make these, Mom?”

  “You’ll just convert as soon as possible and then commit to raise the children Catholic.”

  And… I think my soul just left my body.

  At a moment like this, you can do one of two things: Take a second to breathe and gather yourself to find the appropriate thing to say and do, or… freak the fuck out.

  This is me we’re talking about, though, so, yeah, I freak the fuck out.

  “The children?! Who the hell are the children!!?!”

  “The children you’ll one day bear, if God grants me the answer to my daily prayers.”

  “Bear? The children I will bear? What am I, a sheep?! Mom, what are you even doing right now? Ralph and I are not remotely on the path of getting married and procreating!”

  “Well, not yet, but someday soon, you might be, so I just think you should be prepared and have the important discussions now, so you don’t find yourself in a position where—”

  “He’s not even my boyfriend! We’re not even dating! He’s just a guy who works where I work who I ‘boned’ for the first time last night on the floor of the museum while tripping on shrooms!”

  “Oh, snap!” both my brothers say in unison.

  Mom gets deadly serious.

  “You had relations with this boy out of wedlock?”

  “Several times in one night, yes! And he was fucking stellar!”

  “Attaboy!” My dad punches Ralph in the arm.

  “Thank you?” Ralph’s head whips left and right like he doesn’t know what the hell to do with my cracked-out family.

  “No need to feel awkward, son. I’m not one of those fathers who jokes about bringing a shotgun to the door when a young man wants to date my daughter. If a fine, upstanding gentleman like yourself can bring pleasure to my princess? Then I am all for it, and I want to hear all the details.”

  “Gosh, Ken, I feel like there has to be some kind of parental middle ground you’re missing between assassinating me or asking for an erotic play-by-play of my encounter with your daughter.”

  My father still has his arm around Ralph and is looking deeply into his eyes. “I’m a man of extremes, what can I say?”

  “That’s it. I’m out of here.”

  “Lopey, it’s your birthday! Stay here and talk to your mother.”

  “When will you decide that my choices are worth your respect?” I explode.

  “Um. Who are you talking to?” Scott asks.

  “All of you! Every single one of you! I like my life! Do you get that? I like my career! And it is a career. It’s not Calliope’s dino thing. It’s happening. It’s real. It’s not a joke.”

  “Sweetheart, no one thinks it’s a joke—”

  “I’ll have you know that I was just asked to assist my mentor on a massive dinosaur dig in South Dakota this summer. Twenty-two years old and I’ll be out in the field with some of the best minds in science. Yeah! This is a huge freaking deal! Any other family would be proud of a daughter like that, instead of making fun of her, making light of her accomplishments, and calling her ‘mopey Lopey’ all the time. You know why I’m mopey? It’s because you always do this! You don’t even try to understand me! You dismiss me like I’m some weirdo heathen who won’t have any value in your eyes until I get married under the eyes of the Big G and make lots of little religious babies for you all to ooh and aah at. Well, guess what? That’s not happening! I don’t have any desire to give up on my dreams like you all did so I can sit in judgment of the people who actually are pursuing something. We call ourselves a family of writers, but that’s such a fucking joke. When was the last time any of you picked up a pen? You all sold out when you found someone you wanted to settle down with, and then you did exactly that… you settled.”

  “Easy, kid,” Dad says. “People’s ambitions change, and there isn’t anything wrong with that. Take you, for example. When was the last time you picked up a pen?”

  “Callie writes constantly actually. You should know that she has a secret project she’s working on and—”

  “Ralph, stop.”

  “It’s under a pen name called Tracy Triassic.”

  “Ralph?!”

  “Yeah, she writes these really fun, dinosaur-themed romances! You’d love them. Check them out when you can because—”

  “Ralph! What the hell? Stop!”

  Everyone is silent.

  My entire family observes me as though I’m that stuffed baby fawn in the Hall of Mammals.

  But their faces all project the story that I have wounded them when it’s always been the other way around.

  Hasn’t it?

  “I’m sorry, but… I’m sorry.”

  I grab my shoes and backpack and storm out.

  “Calliope, it’s your birthday, don’t do this…” I hear my mother’s voice trail off behind me as I slip out the door.

  By the time I slam the passenger side of Ralph’s car, I can see him stepping out under the porch light with my parents, shaking my dad’s hand, then… giving my mother a hug. What a buffer. They exchange a few words—I’m guessing about me—and with one more pat on the back from my dad, Ralph starts to walk toward the car.

  I close my eyes and try not to cry.

  Why do I always end up feeling like the bad guy?

  Am I the bad guy?

  Ralph gets in on the driver’s side and puts his key in the ignition.

  “Heading home?” he asks simply.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Just a guy from work you boned while on shrooms, huh?”

  “I’m sorry about that. That’s not how I wanted to… I have to speak in a certain way with my family, or they feel they can infiltrate and…”

  “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

  I look up, and my parents are standing under the porchlight together, their arms wrapped around each other’s back.

  “Can we go? I really need to go.”

  “Of course. Yeah. Let’s go.”

  Ralph turns on the car, and we reverse out onto the street and start driving away. Even though I tell myself not to, I can’t help watching the expression on my mother’s face until she’s completely out of sight.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Oh my God, what a shithole.”

  Ralph and I stand in the doorway, staring into our economy-sized room at The Liberty Bell Motel off the Philadelphia Turnpike.

  “I dunno. For fifty-nine dollars a night, it seems pretty nice.”

  Just then, a cockroach scurries across the floor.

  “Holy crap! Ew! Ew! Ew!” I scream and throw myself at him. He wraps his arms around me. “Care to revise that statement, sir?” My voice sounds muffled against his chest.

  “Shhh. It’s okay. He’s more afraid of us than we are of him. We just freaked him out when we turned
on the light.”

  “You sound like you’re comforting a little kid.”

  “Well, you’re kind of acting like a little kid, aren’t you?” He mocks.

  Swatting him on the shoulder, I take a step away from him, embarrassed that I plunged into his arms like such a pansy.

  I toss my backpack on the double bed. It doesn’t bounce, though, like it should. It just lands there with a smack.

  “What the hell is that mattress made of?” I ask, then walk over to it and press both hands down a few times.

  Squeaky, squeaky, squeaky.

  “This feels like cardboard. Does this feel like cardboard to you?”

  Ralph shuts and bolts the door behind us, then presses his own hands into the bed a few times.

  Squeaky, squeaky, squeaky.

  “Yeah, that ain’t gonna be comfy.”

  “I’m sorry, Ralph.” I sigh and sit down on the bed. Bed obviously being a generous term.

  “Why are you sorry? It was my Vulva that broke down on the side of the road.”

  That gets a laugh out of me.

  “Yeah, but I could call my dad to come help us. They’re only ten minutes away.”

  “I’m almost certain he would come, ya know,” Ralph says gently. “No questions asked.”

  “I know he would. I just… I can’t right now.”

  He sits down beside me and pats my thigh.

  “It’s okay. We can figure something out in the morning.”

  I look down at his hand, which he hasn’t moved from my leg, and I realize I don’t mind one bit.

  “There’s always the megabus,” I offer.

  “No, there is not,” he says definitively. “You and me? We are better than the megabus.”

  “However, it seems we are not better than a roach-infested motel with cardboard mattresses.”

  “It’s fine. It’ll be an adventure. We’ll look back on this someday and laugh.”

  I’m not sure what to say to that. Does he really see some kind of someday for us? Even after I acted like such a crazy person with my family today? I opt to say nothing and stand and explore the tiny room instead.