A Day In Debra Anastasia’s Life

As I was sitting at my desk in my home office, reviewing the last draft I’ve written last night, the front door creaked open and my daughter walked in. She is a really beautiful thirteen year old, who learns really damn good and listens to her crazy-ass–porn-writer mom. Sometimes I wonder if she’s really mine at all. I mean she’s quite quiet for her age – I remember when I was her age, how I was running around the house doing all sorts of crazy stuff. Besides being her mother, I am also her role model and I want to make sure she is comfortable talking to me about anything without me being judgemental. And she knows this all to well – because I make sure to tell her every time.

She leaves her backpack in the living room, on the silky brown couch and bursts into my office with wide eyes.
“Hey. How was school ?” I ask her, and with a little hesitation, I add. “Is everything,okay ?”. She nods and sits on the chair in front of my desk. I still am not sure, if everything is really okay, so I stare into her eyes, trying to make out something. See if she’s being truthful or not. Guess, what ! She’s not lying. In fact, I do not even remember this kid to ever lie to me, or her father.

She stares back at me for a little while, and after a few minutes says, “Mom. I have something to tell you. It’s inappropriate!” Okay, I’ve been ready for this for quite some time now to be honest. I get up from my chair and start walking towards the door, and she’s following me. We go upstairs in my bedroom, and once we’re in there, I close the door.

She sits on the edge of my bed, and I quickly make my way to it, to sit down, as well. Once we’re all set, she glances again at my face and says, “It’s a joke,okay ?!”. And once again, my heart races at the thought that she’d maybe heard something at school that may need to be explained. I knew that this day would come, but didn’t know exactly when. I, mean, we all know that middle school is nothing more than a fucking hell hole of misinformation. And so, I get ready – emotionally and spiritually – for what my little sweet, precious daughter has to tell me.

She says, “A pirate walks into a bar…” after that, she glances again into my eyes, to see if there is any reaction, at all. Nothing to see here at this point, though.

“Okay.” I mumble, and make sure once again, that my face is welcoming and understanding to whatever is set and bound to come my way, over the next few minutes. I look over to her, and wait for her next words to come out.

“And the bartender says to him : ‘Why do you have a steering wheel in your pants ?’ ” she adds. Again, there is nothing on my face, other than expectation as to what comes after this.

“And the pirate says, ‘It’s driving me nuts !’ ” she finishes, and starts laughing. At first I didn’t laugh but after I processed the joke better, I couldn’t contain myself and burst out into a crazy laugh. Now I know for sure with who resembles the most. Dad, you loose, and I win. She is totally me and when it comes to being funny.

Published by Cristina Piciu


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