You sat at your desk in Morgan’s old bedroom. You were focused on the Grand Opening at the Leesburg Wegmans only five weeks away. That made me smile, because you accused Dad and me of being workaholics. Now you knew the thrill of trying to make something happen and how easy it was to lose track of time. It wasn't about the work is was about having something that was yours.
Your Production Workbooks were splayed out on the desk and spreadsheets were tiled on the computer. You had two goals in mind: keep up with your commitments at Wegmans; and have procedures and processes in place so your team could function – with or without you. I forced myself not to go all gushy and embarrass you. You know, like when I’d scream your name in the gym at Seneca Ridge Middle School when you played basketball. If looks could have killed, I'd be dead. This time, I'd practice quiet pride.
“I really hate the prison cell pushups.” I said from the doorway, wiping sweat off my neck. I’d just finished the Core Synergistics from P90X and my legs were shaky. “But I did my best.” I said.
“And forgot the rest.” You finished. It was a Tony Hortonism that I liked and you picked up on. We’d say it whenever one of us would hint that we weren’t doing enough. It was our little stress elixir.
We hadn't talked much since our flight back from Houston Hobby except for basics. We were too busy playing catch up: you with work and Katie; me with work, Dad, and travel arrangements. It had only been a few days, but I missed the depth of conversations made possible by the isolation of Houston. Remember, we talked about the dual realities and alternate universes we lived in as we straddled life in Virginia and life in Houston. We also laughed about how we already knew what Dr. F confirmed – you were perfect for the trial. Oh and we talked about a lot about where you were going to take Katie to eat and the best places to eat in Houston. I also threatened to leave you in Houston if you didn't get your prolific digestive system under control. You hadn't been on treatment for nearly a month and that excuse was old. When I called you out on that fact -- you only laughed which made me laugh to the point neither of us could breathe.
“Katie is upset.” You said closing your spreadsheets with a bewildered look.
“Why?” I asked, bracing myself against the door jam. “I thought everything went okay with the big coming out meeting last night with the parents.”
“That’s not it.” You said. "Things are fine with her parents. I didn’t change my relationship status of Facebook. I didn't even think about it. I thought it was more important to have a face-to-face with her parents and let close friends and family know rather than announce our status on Facebook. Now she thinks I'm trying to hide our relationship from the world.”
"So are you?" I asked trying not to laugh. I knew you were crazy about Katie and how you really didn't like to get online or do Facebook very much. It drove me crazy that I could never chat with you online while you had your own place without calling or texting you first. Absolutely crazy! So I can't say I was surprised by your lack of Facebook finesse.
"Mom, be serious." You said almost smiling. "I want to know when announcements on Facebook became so important."
"Don't know. Social networking has changed so fast. Is there a Miss Manners for Facebook? I think we're making it up as we go. It's a Brave New World. There is good and bad with Facebook. But you can focus on the good. Not the dramas like whether to friend the friend of a friend or whether you poked someone back and the deeper meaning behind it." I said rubbing my neck that I jammed during my workout from a Dreya roll. "So, are you going to change your status? You know if it's not on Facebook, it's not real."
You rolled your eyes and we both laughed. It was so NOT cancer and so silly that it was fun.
I said, "If Katie knew what she meant to you. She wouldn't even ask." Then laughed some more.
You nodded, checked your cell in your side cargo pocket, that just notified you of a text. It was Katie. I said something about her ears burning. Then you started texting. I figured you needed to smooth things over, so I let you be. Besides, I needed a bath because my stink from working out was pretty rank.
After my bath, I checked your Facebook Page because you know I am quite the snoop. You did it! You decreed it on Facebook for the entire Facebook Universe to see. You were in a relationship with Katie Armstrong. And I clicked "Like."
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