Free Who's Your Daddy? by Lynda Sandoval Page A

[email protected],
    [email protected]
    SUBJECT: re: The WEIRDEST thing!
    TIME: 2:23:43 A.M. , MST
    Meryl!!!!
    A hottie for Mer—that rocks, girl! I, too, had an interesting experience after you left, Lila. (HANG IN THERE! I’m sorry for what happened, too. You have to tell us what your dad does to you ASAP.) My cool thing seems directly connected to the dumb supper, too. I might not have believed it, but now that I read your tale, Meryl, it all makes TOTAL SENSE!!!
    Here’s what happened to me:
    I was getting ready to clean up the rest of the feast room, when all of a sudden I decided, HEY, I might as well bless the supper and burn our prayer/wishes like we’d planned. Why not? I might be able to make things happen. Just call me
CHARMED
, [g] (Mer, it’s a TV show reference, don’t mind me.)
    So, I placed my hands on the spirit chair, and closed my eyes. Lila, I really felt like your mom was there for us. I said a silent blessing for her and for the meal-that-never-was,never-was, then I went from seat to seat and lit the votive candles. The black ones were really mondo kewwwwwl!
    I let them burn for a few minutes, and then I went from plate to plate and torched our prayer/wish cards. It was so fun and, like, empowering!
    When I was done, I went into the living room to write in my journal about the whole thing. That’s when the weirdness happened. I swear to you guys, I wasn’t anywhere NEAR our CD shelves when *IT* happened …
    It? IT?! I read on, faster and faster, until I got to the really out-there part. A GUY ON A CD?!? I SO could not believe that Caressa truly thought she was destined to fall in love with a (1) famous (2) twenty-one-year-old (3) blues musician (4) whom she had never met. Had she suffered some sort of mental break?
    I stared at the screen for several moments, my jaw sort of hanging open with this totally unattractive mouth-breather expression. The world had definitely gone mad.
    I didn’t want to harsh on her mellow too badly, but I felt I needed to say something to Caressa about this little foray into psycholand. I clicked reply and typed:

    FROM: [email protected]
    TO: [email protected], [email protected]
    SUBJECT: re: The WEIRDEST thing!
    TIME: 6:58:32 A.M. , MST
    Caressa—
    I love you. You know I do. And, because of this, I feel I must point out a few things to you, for your own good:
    1. Bobby Slade is TWENTY-ONE years old! HELLO!
    2. Bobby Slade is a famous musician whom you have never met.
    3. Bobby Slade is just a guy from a freakin’ photo on some CD liner notes.
    4. I’m no expert, but I don’t think the dumb supper would include guys you saw in photos. DUDE, think about it. If that were the case, what if you’d seen someone creepily old, like the president of the United States on the front page of the paper, or something? YECCCH! Talk about grossity gross gross. Gross-o-rama. HORK! BUT … seeing some guy on a CD is sorta the same, even if Bobby S. is way cuter than the prez ever could be. It’s still a huge-o stretch.
    5. If none of my other arguments make you reconsider this, I must circle back to, BOBBY SLADE IS TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD!!! That alone is enough to guarantee you guys probably aren’t right for each other. I mean, come on. He’s practically from another generation.
    6. This last point is self-serving, but I do not WANT the dumb supper to have worked, because I had the sad misfortune of coming face to face with Dylan Sebring first. ACKKKKKKU!!! I WOULD RATHER DIE A VIRGIN THAN HAVE SOME JOCKO COP WANNABE AS MY DESTINY!!!!!!!!!!!!!
    So, anyway, I think the CD must’ve been … I dunno, vibrations from the fridge or something that made it work its way out and you just happened to be there when it fell from the shelf. I DON’T KNOW! But, any other explanation is just too freaky woo woo to make sense.
    I don’t mean to poop in your punchbowl or anything, but we’ve got to keep a realistic perspective on this. You know