25. Antsy

By the light of day, and in all sobriety Dana Feminita noticed that her husband was profoundly antsy all of a sudden. He’d be pounding away on that battered laptop of his, and then he’d pop up and pace. Usually, he just pounded without the pacing. Creative process? Couldn’t hurt to inquire.
“Julian.”
“Yep?”
“That’s the third time in this hour you’ve gotten up to pace. Are you having trouble passing a passage?”
“Man! Woman! Mother of god!”
“That’s a yes, I gather.”
“I’m reading what I wrote in summer, and I’m trying to make it over so that it doesn’t make me either want to puke, or put me to sleep.”
“The life of the novelist?”
“Pitiful.”
He sat back down and went back to pounding. It was true, after a fashion that he was working on a novel. It just wasn’t the one he’d written over the summer. It was some new crazy thing that was unfolding in real-time and there seemed to be actual skin in the game. His mind was working on the implications of having Lana’s phone number. Did he even dare to talk to her in extreme real-time, voice to voice, without the benefit of a backspace? No way to cut and paste on the phone. Also, with the holidays being dead center, how could he call with Dana lurking about the house? He turned now to his blog and let Andrés rant.

In Parkersburg, Lana was thinking up another “recipe.” Amy had more to say, as she usually did. She sat on the couch, and now that Scott was gone, the cats had re-emerged. She got her fingers in their fur, one at a time, probing for wounds. She thought to herself, ‘if I catch that man torturing my cats, I’ll either kill him or leave him, maybe in reverse order.’ She found nothing but smooth skin under the fur. They purred in turn, and got as close as they could. When she took up the laptop, Tory took off on rounds. The investigative Abyssinian cat, getting into everything, making certain all was well. If the cats could tell her what they knew, she’d be more careful. In their way, of course, they did tell, and she did know. Mea flipped herself upside down and let her paws fold down. Contented cat, at home in her keepers care, her worries abated, her needs attended to, her life before her certain.

She wondered whether Julian would get up the gumption to call. She worried that he might find it too soon and too forward. Instead, Julian had every intention of dialing the number, but he had to find a way to do it. Sneaking up to the bedroom was not going to work. Hiding out in the garage was also fraught. Dana was an empath, a counselor Troi. He had to mind his step, or he’d be stepping right in it. Lana took it out on Amy, took it to the public in her ship full sail. Julian again rose and paced.
“Dana, I really need to stretch my legs. I’m thinking if I go over to campus and stroll around, I’ll break my logjam.”
“OK, Babe. Go for it. You’re driving me crazy here with all your pacing.”
He went for his hat, gloves, and coat. He put the laptop in its luggage, slipped his cell phone in his pocket and pecked Dana on the cheek. He was out the door on his date with tomfoolery, part one.

Having accomplished another pithy post, Lana called her father.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Pumpkin patch!”
“Sorry I’m not getting to you until Boxing Day, but Scott was around and we were at it. Now he’s gone, and I have my mind back.”
“Sweetie, that might be too much information. When you say ‘at it,’ do you mean doing the deed or having a spat?”
“A little of both. It’s complicated.”
“You can tell me. I’m your father.”
“I would tell you if I could make sense of it.”
“OK. Well, you set the pace and the tone.”
“There is one thing I need to tell you.”
“Go for it.”
“I’ve been corresponding with a professor at Blue Ridge.”
“A rinky-dink little outfit in Winchester. What of it?”
“We’ve been going back and forth. He kind of reminds me of you.”
“Uh oh.”
“No, I mean, he’s a wordsmith, an appreciator of me, a good reader. An admirer. I need admirers.”
“Yes, you do. Are you in need of a lover?”
“Oh, Dad!”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”
“I know. It’s just that I can’t answer that question. At the very least, Scott and I have hit some serious turbulence. As for the professor, it’s a back and forth exchange, on blogs, email, Facebook. I gave him my phone number. I want to hear him talk. I’ve never met him face to face. He’s married, so am I…”
“So, as usual, it’s complicated.”
“Very.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but not surprised about Scott.”
“I know, Dad, I know. You never understood what I saw in him.”
“Oh I know what you see. He’s a stud muffin. It’s just that he’s so technical, non-verbal, anti-culture, not appreciative of your soul or your art, and, increasingly, domineering. Have I got most of that right?”
“Oh, Dad.”
She felt herself go over the edge and into tears. Her father had put the finger on it. Again.
“Are you going to try to meet your professor?”
“I don’t know. I need to talk to him. It’s up to him whether he calls or not.”
“Oh, he’ll call. I guarantee that.”
“Dad, there’s one other thing I’ve got to tell you about.”
“What’s that?”
“‘Harper’s is going to run one of my blog posts.’”
“Which one?”
“Are you reading it?”
“Of course!”
“So, if that’s true, you’ve already heard about the professor.”
“I assumed you were, as you said, fantasizing.”
“I was. Anyway, they want the ‘M’ Word, for ‘Readings.’”
“That’s fabulous, honey! An honor, of course. They never took any of the countless things I sent. But I didn’t think to write a rant about spanking the monkey. And look at you, they find you, and put your thing in an honored national magazine.”
“Well, after they run that thing, under my pen name, ‘Amy Lissa,’ the honored part might start to slip just a bit.”
“That’s too funny. But, no, you earned it. They sometimes print some crazy stuff in ‘Readings.’”
“I miss you, Dad.”
“I miss you too, Lana. Happy New Year!”
“Oh, same to you…”

In his office, Julian sat down with the laptop. He checked Facebook first, and then “Amy Tells All.” Her latest was another acidic gem. It etched its lace on his mind, and made him think twice about his mission.