by Elise Sax
Lesson 18, Matchmaking advice from your
Grandma Zelda
We were the proud owners of a sex robot.
“It’s a lease-to-own situation,” Grandma said, reading the paperwork that came with the robot.
“It’s a lease-to-own situation,” Spencer repeated, smirking his little smirk. “We’re leasing a sex robot.”
“It’s for you, Spencer,” Grandma continued. “Not for Gladie. Oh, my. This is an interesting therapy strategy. I’m going into the kitchen to make sure that Draco finds the Funyuns.”
She handed Spencer the paperwork, and he read through it. “Don’t be angry, Pinky,” he said.
“In general, or about your sex robot? What are you supposed to do with the sex robot?”
“I think everything,” he said, reading. He finished and put the papers down. “Don’t be angry.”
“How about scared? Can I be scared?”
The sex robot was about five-foot-four and had a much better body than I had. Firmer. It whirred to life and stepped away from its box. “I am Farrah. How may I please you today?” it asked in a Marilyn Monroe breathy voice.
“Why did the therapist give you a sex aid?” I asked, trying to keep my cool.
“Don’t be angry, but she suggests that I have sex with the robot and not you.”
I flopped down on a nearby chair. “She wants you to have sex with the robot and not me,” I repeated. “Is it the dictator uniform? Is that it?”
“I don’t think so. You weren’t wearing it when you met the therapist. As far as I can tell, her theory is that if we take sex out of the equation, we can just focus on our relationship.”
“Without sex, our relationship is television, food, and you telling me to stay out of police business,” I pointed out.
Spencer took me in his arms and kissed me. “Pinky, we’re so much more than television, food, and you butting in where you don’t belong. We’re even so much more than sex. We’re you and me. We’re the happily ever after.”
“I love you,” the sex robot purred and nuzzled up to Spencer’s back.
“I think I’m angry now,” I said. “No, wait a minute. Let me think about it.”
“You’re my poo bear. Do you work out?” the robot continued.
“I’ve thought about it,” I said. “Yes, I’m definitely angry.”
“Oh, you’re so strong!” the robot gushed.
“I’ll find the off button,” Spencer assured me.
“That better be the only button you find,” I said, adjusting my military cap on my head.
He didn’t find the off button. Spencer’s sex robot followed us across the street, where Spencer’s parents were waiting for the grand tour of their son’s custom-made dream house.
Eight o’clock on the dot, and they were at the front the door, smiling wide as their perfect child waved at them. Their smiles dropped when they saw me. It was still blistering hot, and by the time I got across the street, I was already sweaty under my military uniform.
I waved brightly, and Lily grabbed onto her husband. “Did you join the military?” she asked me. “Are you going overseas? Don’t worry, Spencer. Long-distance relationships are wonderful. Who cares if you don’t see Gladie for six months at a time? It’ll be good for your relationship.”
I was tempted not to give her the bad news that I wasn’t off to Afghanistan because she was suddenly so happy. Poor woman. The idea that I was off to Afghanistan put a smile on her face, but Spencer gave her the bad news. He explained that I only had to wear the uniform for another forty-eight hours in order not to go to jail for stealing a donkey when I was drunk. He shrugged. “See, Mom? Simple explanation.”
“Oh my God,” he whispered to me. “I’m thoroughly infected. You warped me, Pinky.”
I kissed him on the lips, and his mother flinched. “I could say that my work here is done, but I’m assuming you still have a long way to go,” I said.
“I want you. I want you so bad,” the sex robot purred.
Spencer’s mother stumbled backward, as if she was noticing the robot for the first time. “Who’s your friend?” Spencer’s father asked. “You should wear an outfit like that, Lily,” he told his wife. “You would look good.”
“It’s the sex robot that Mom’s therapist prescribed for us,” Spencer said. “Thanks, Mom. It’s a great wedding gift.”
“The what robot?” she asked. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth kept dropping open. “The what?”
“Spencer is my dream man. I love you, Spencer,” the robot said.
“Can we go inside?” I asked, definitely angry now. “I’m sweating balls in this outfit.”
“It’s not my fault,” Spencer told me. “I didn’t ask for the sex robot.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Lily said. “I might be having a stroke.”
“Don’t say stroke in front of the robot. It could have unintentional consequences,” James told her.
“Sweating balls,” I said. “Sweating balls.”
“All righty. Let’s get this party started,” Spencer said, jangling the house keys in his hand.
“I love to party,” the robot announced. “Party with me, big boy.”
“Isn’t technology amazing?” Spencer’s father asked.
Spencer stood with his back to the front door, and the robot cuddled up next to him. He cleared his throat and did his best to ignore the sex robot. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he started. “I’m honored today to have the people I most love in the world, all except for my loser brother Peter, who’s off saving the world and couldn’t be here for my wedding. Anyway, I’m happy you’re here to be the first to see the finished product of our new home, where we’ll hopefully live forever.”
“And it’s not cursed anymore,” I added. “It was cursed, but my grandmother’s friend is a shaman, and he burned sage inside, so it’s not cursed anymore. Money back guarantee.”
“You don’t say,” Spencer’s father said.
“It was never cursed,” Spencer said.
“A man was murdered in it. A plane crashed on it.”
“Two men were murdered in it,” Spencer corrected. “And it’s not cursed. Pinky, here’s your key.” He handed me the key on a pretty, gold keychain. I held it in my hand and studied it.
My very own key for my very own house. I felt giddy and excited, but at the same time I had a weird feeling of dread, like the five minutes before food poisoning hits. I tried to focus on the giddy and excited part instead of the dread part, and I smiled at him.
“Thank you, Spencer.”
Holding his own key in his hand, Spencer began to describe the long process of turning a house that had been abandoned and the site of a plane crash into a stylish ultra-luxury, four-thousand-square-foot home.
“It’s the largest house on the block, and it has a pool,” he added and put his key into the lock. The door opened.
I hadn’t been totally involved with the renovations and the decorating, but I had been there for every step along the way, and much to his credit, Spencer kept me in the loop and asked for my opinion on everything from door handles to the roof. More often than not, I told him I liked what he liked. So, the house was really his baby. It was his brainchild. I could never have thought to do the beautiful things he did to the house.
We walked inside behind Spencer and the sex robot. Spencer started by showing us the entranceway with the alarm console and the console for all of the automated functions of the house. “Bill Gates has nothing on this house,” he insisted. “Bill Gates wishes he had this house.”
The house had originally had five bedrooms, but Spencer turned it into only three, enlarging the master bedroom into a massive room and expanding the kitchen out. We visited the basement, which was a rare find in California. It used to house two panic rooms, but now there was a sauna and a workout room.
“We’ll never have the excuse not to work out now,” Spencer said, hugging me to him.
“Yay,”
I said, trying to drum up enthusiasm for never missing a day of exercise.
The house was beautiful, but the kitchen was a thing of wonder. And I mean, literally a thing of wonder because I didn’t know how to cook, and there must’ve been fifty appliances in there.
“You’ll like this, Pinky,” Spencer said, excitedly touching a stainless-steel appliance on the counter. “It’s a latte machine. You’ll never have to go to Tea Time again. You’ll have your latte with frothy steamed milk every morning right here in the kitchen. You won’t even need to go outside, unless you want to go to the backyard.”
“I’m never going to Tea Time again,” I said, trying to smile. “Is it hot in here? I’m feeling a little hot.”
“The house is entirely temperature regulated. Right now, we’re at a cool seventy degrees. Isn’t it fabulous, Mom?” Spencer asked
“I’m so proud of you, son,” she gushed. “You’re amazing. You’ve done beautiful work, and so generous to share it with Gladys. Not many men would spend so much money to pamper their wives to this extent. I mean who does this? Who spoils their woman this much?”
“And his sex robot,” I added. “Don’t forget how much he pampers his sex robot.”
The passive aggressiveness or downright aggressiveness continued as the tour finished. Spencer and his father stayed inside to check out the automatic bagel slicer with the sex robot, while Lily and I went outside.
“Now that we have a moment alone, I just wanted to explain myself,” Spencer’s mother told me on the front lawn.
“That’s not necessary,” I said. I didn’t want her to explain herself. I figured that I would get the raw end of the stick if she explained herself. I got the impression that her explaining herself meant insulting me.
“I think I need to,” she insisted. “You don’t understand what it’s like for a mother. I have a very strong relationship with my children. We’re connected on a very deep level. Emotional, psychological, and intellectual. You don’t understand that because you don’t have that in your life.”
I smoothed out my dictator uniform. “I don’t know what you think you know, but I understand about strong relationships with a mother. I happen to have a wonderful mother, who loves me very deeply. And I love her.” Oh boy. I was so going to hell with all the lies I was telling. I hoped karma wasn’t real because I was packing on the lies before my wedding. But I couldn’t stop lying. It was the only way I knew how to win in this conversation. And besides, I was really good at lying.
“So, you don’t have to explain your relationship to me, because one thing I know for certain is the love of a mother, and I can assure you that I’ll bring that same kind of attachment and love to my relationship with your son,” I said on a liar-liar-pants-on-fire roll. “As much as I understand how familial love works, don’t worry because I’ll take that knowledge and make my new family with Spencer be just as rewarding and loving as I’ve always had with my family.”
As I spoke, I had to raise my voice because a large bus was coming down the street. It was a luxury charter bus, the kind used for sightseeing. “So, don’t tell me I don’t know about a loving mother, because I do!” I said, my voice rising above the roar of the bus’s engine.
The bus came closer, and much to my surprise, parked on the street in front of us. The bus was white with a large green leaf painted on the side with Senior Leaf written next to it.
“What the hell is that?” Lily demanded. “What are you up to now, Gladie? Is this your new car? Does this have something to do with your uniform?”
“As God is my witness, I have no idea what this bus is. It’s just a bus. Maybe it’s lost.”
But it wasn’t just a bus, and it wasn’t lost. The bus driver killed the engine, and the bus door opened.
Funnily enough, getting a sex robot in the mail wasn’t my biggest surprise of the day. It turned out that it wasn’t even close. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw who came out of the bus.
“Hello, Gladie. Am I in time for your wedding?”
“Mom? How did you break out of the prison farm?”
CHAPTER 14
Once you’ve made a match, it’s not uncommon for one of them to get cold feet. Cold feet doesn’t sound like a big megillah, bubbeleh. It sounds like you go to Target and buy some socks, and the cold feet are cured. Right? Of course, right. But sometimes, even Target socks can’t warm cold feet. Sometimes, as a matchmaker, you have to massage them, yourself. Get down on your knees, grab those cold feet, and give them a big rub, dolly! Only you can do it.
Lesson 128, Matchmaking advice from your
Grandma Zelda
My mother didn’t look like herself. She looked respectable. She even looked conservative. My mom was wearing navy blue slacks, a white, button-down shirt, and flats. And she wasn’t drunk.
She wasn’t stoned.
“Mom? Is that you? What are you doing here? Did you steal a bus and break out of the prison farm?”
It was the most logical explanation.
“Mom?” Spencer’s mother asked. “Prison farm?”
“They bought me out,” my mother explained.
“What do you mean, they bought you out?” I demanded.
“What do you mean, prison farm?” Spencer’s mother demanded.
Spencer and his father walked out of the house and locked the sex robot inside. Spencer noticed the bus parked in front of his custom-made house. “Are you kidding me?” he asked. Then, he noticed my mother. “Are you kidding me?” he asked, louder.
“It turns out that if you have a marketable skill, they buy you out of the prison farm,” Mom explained.
Spencer shook his head. “I don’t get it. Who bought you out? What’re you talking about?”
“Did you know that marijuana is legal?” my mother asked. Since she had been arrested for driving a mobile meth lab, she had gotten clean and sober and she was a new person. She had bright eyes, and actually seemed interested in the world around her. She had a long way to go to become mother of the year, but it was a relief to see her cogent and clean.
Although, it probably wasn’t a good thing that she had broken out of prison and was driving a stolen luxury charter bus.
“I know that marijuana is legal,” Spencer said.
“It is?” I asked.
“Everyone’s doing it now, Gladie,” my mother said, excitedly. “They’ve got clubs and stores, and even senior citizens are getting stoned.”
I dreaded where this conversation was going.
“What the hell’s going on?” Spencer’s mother demanded.
“Do you smoke pot?” my mother asked her. “You look old, and old people are the best customers.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Are you dealing drugs, Mom? Is that what we’re talking about?”
“No, I’ve turned over a new leaf, Gladie. I’m not pushing, anymore. I’m driving them to get their drugs. There’s a Senior Leaf store in San Diego. We drive the seniors from Cannes down to San Diego, and the old folks buy their week’s supply. All with a scenic view of the Pacific Ocean and an extensive organic snack bar. Isn’t that genius?”
It was sort of genius. It was the same idea as shipping seniors to the Indian casinos.
“They hired you to drive their bus, their pot bus?” Spencer asked, gesturing toward the giant green leaf on the side of the bus.
“They recruited me. It turns out that corporate America recruits employees from minimum security prisons. I’ve gone corporate. They said that since I already had experience, I would be perfect. It’s the first time I’ve ever been recruited, Gladie, I have full benefits, including health insurance and a pension plan.”
Health insurance and a pension plan? That was more than I had ever gotten. “That’s great, Mom,” I said honestly. I was actually proud of her. In her roundabout way, she had wound up with a good, steady job.
“In what century and what reality and what universe is that great?” Spencer’s mother shouted.
“Now, now Lily,” Spencer’s father said, calmly. “It’s not our business. Besides, it’s a nice bus. So, how does this outfit work, Mrs. Burger?”
My mother blinked, as if she was noticing him for the first time, or it might’ve been the fact that he called her Mrs. Burger and treated her with respect that surprised her.
“We pick them up and drive them to San Diego and back,” she explained. “Each customer gets their own joint for free, just for riding, which they smoke on the way to the store.”
“So you’re getting a contact high every day. Perfect. Isn’t there an agreement with the judge that you can’t partake?” Spencer asked.
“Yes, don’t worry about that. The driver sits in an airtight enclosure. It’s a good set-up inside. You want to see?”
“Yes,” Spencer’s father said.
No,” Spencer’s mother said.
Spencer caught my eye, and the message was clear: Handle this. Clear this up.
“It was nice seeing you, Luann,” Spencer told my mother. “Mom, Dad, time to come inside for brunch. I’m cooking for you in my amazing kitchen. That’s part of the tour.”
Since we had just eaten breakfast, I doubted that brunch was part of the tour. Spencer was giving me time with my mom to smooth out any emergencies before they happened. Normally he was the one to smooth out emergencies, not me. This was a different strategy, but I went with it, since Spencer had to handle his own parents.
“I’m happy for you, Mom,” I told her, once Spencer and his folks were back inside. “You like your new job?”
“I’ve only made one trip so far, but yes, it’s perfect. They let me play whatever music I want in my little booth at the front. It’s soundproof. We play old movies for the customers. You want to see?”
She pressed the button on her keychain, and the bus doors opened. We climbed in. My mother pressed another button, and the bus began to cool down. “They trained me for the job for three weeks at the farm. I even know how to fix it if it breaks. You believe that, Gladie? It’s got every major gizmo and gadget. It can do anything. I know how to work it all.”
