|Acme Portable Holes|
I hear every tick-tock of the clock on the wall.
With that, The Boy, feeling satisfied with his matchmaking success, leans back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, and sighs, signaling the end of the prenuptial negotiations.
I could have cut the tension with a knife.
I don't recall who begins speaking first. Somehow, the blood that had all run to my face eventually returns to my other body parts. I feel the last of the perspiration trickle down my back. We continue with our meeting. I don't remember anything that was discussed or decided.
I was never so glad to leave a building in my life.
I don't say anything to The Boy until we are safely in our car. "You embarrassed me, do you know that?"
"THAT embarrassed you? I had no idea...I'm sorry."
I'm thinking that the The Boy missed one too many Social Skills classes at that school.
At our final meeting at the school, we showed up with an education attorney. The Boy's attorney asked the teacher a simple, direct question about classroom procedures. The teacher was hemming and hawing, using doublespeak to avoid any semblance of an answer.
The Boy swooped in for the kill. "Mrs. Letsdotheminimunshallwe (not her real name), why don't you stop talking like a politician, and just answer the question?"