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holed up at home.

Because Cara’s Mom
    Reminds me of crystal—
all sparkly and beautiful
distraction while it carves
you clear to the bone. She
    is a don’t-turn-your-back-
on-her kind of woman.
Our first encounter was
a lot like a job interview.
We are careful about who
our daughter is allowed
to date, she declared, before
basically third-degreeing me
as to my qualifications. She’s
a high-society high roller who
steamrolled right over me.
    It was almost enough to make
me rethink things with Cara.
Except she’s just so damn
perfect. Well, other than when
    it comes to communication.

We’ll Have To Work On That
    But, hey, we’ve got plenty
of time. Forever takes a while.
Meanwhile, I’m practicing
how to get my way without
    her noticing. Subtlety is not
    my best thing, but control
and Cara are not easily
juxtaposed. It’s a challenge,
but one I’m equal to. Not
    that I’d say so out loud.
    Staying (subtly) in control
requires current information.
“So have you heard from
Stanford yet?” She pretty
    much aced her SATs. Grades
are outstanding. Community
service likewise. Not yet. Dad
says it will probably be a few
weeks still. I did hear from
Loyola, though. They want me.
    “Loyola? I didn’t know
you applied there.” Not in
the game plan. Suddenly
my gut feels scrambled.
    “You’re not even Catholic.”
We don’t go to church often,
and when we do, it’s usually
to Holy Cross Lutheran. Mom
isn’t into the whole Pope thing.
But Dad was raised Catholic.
    “So, he really believes in all
that ‘wine into blood’ bullshit?”
I bet the real reason they go
Lutheran is so he doesn’t have
    to confess. Too much time,
trading Hail Marys for penance.
I’m not sure. My grandmother
did, and my grandfather
still does, at least when his
Alzheimer’s lets him. He doesn’t
remember a whole lot most
of the time. Which is why
they invented special care
retirement communities. If I
get that way, please shoot me.
    She shudders at the last two
words, and I’m guessing
she’s thinking about Conner.
“How’s your brother doing,
    anyway? All healed up yet?”
Not really, and what the hell
is up with everyone today?
Is it Dig Up Information on
Conner Day? Because I don’t
have anything new to tell you.
    Jeez. What was that about?
“Hey, I’m not trying to dig
up anything, new or old.
Just trying to communicate.”
    Will that always be a problem?

Andre
    A Problem
    Is really just a solution
    in need of a reason to exist.
    If you think about it,
life
    would be kind of boring
    if it were completely free
    of friction. Each day
presents
    choices. Turn this way, it’s
    a downhill coast. Turn that
    way, you will stumble across
obstacles.
    Some are easily conquered.
    Some require intelligence,
    will, and perseverance
to overcome.
    To win is to prosper.
    The game is defeating doubt.
    And the fun is in the game.

Today’s Game
    Was faking my way through a trig
    test. I probably passed,
    but just barely. Trig? What for? Not
    like I’ll need it beyond June, except
    to have it, with a C
    or (unlikely) slightly better grade
    on my transcript. Okay, my mom might
    argue that I’ll want to
    know math for a future career. She uses
    it all the time, calculating body fat
    percentages and how
    many millimeters of bone to remove
    or skin to tighten to achieve the desired
    effect. Not to mention
    how much anesthesia per pound
    of person will allow said person to wake
    up from deep sleep
    and walk out, covered in bandages, alive.
    And Dad utilizes the ol’ calculator
    to figure price points
    and down payments and monthly
    fees, and whether or not a prospective
    client’s take-home
    salary can cover those things, at least
    on paper. But if I had to follow in either
    of their footsteps,
    I’d use math to calculate how fast
    I’d have to drive my car over a cliff
    of x feet in height
    to attain the proper distance to make
    sure I’d end up dead instead of paralyzed.
    Wow. A real-world use
    for trigonometry. Who’d have believed