Wordsmoker

The following is a cellphone conversation between my sister, Independence Latrigue, and my mother, Newport News Virginia Latrigue (relayed to me by Independence Latrigue):

Sister: “. . . so I saved the troop of gorillas and the meth ring was brought to justice.”

Mother: “Yeah.”

Sister: ”Mom?”

Mother: “That’s good, honey.”

Sister: ”Are you even listening?”

Mother: “I’m sorry, I’m so tired I can hardly see past the front of my car.” (Newport News Virginia Latrigue will be sixty-seven soon.)

Sister: “Well, hang up and concentrate. You can call me when you get back home.”

Mother: “No, I’m almost at the school to pick— OH MY GOD!”

Sister: “WHAT!?”

Mother: “GAS IS GOING UP AGAIN! I DON’T BELIEVE THIS! YESTERDAY IT WAS $3.58 AND NOW IT’S $3.61! IT’S JUST GOING TO KEEP GOING UP!”

Sister: ”Mom, you scared me half to death! Don’t tell me you’re tired and then scream “Oh My God.” It’s pouring outs—”

Mother: “Well, they just keep raising it. It goes down a little and then— Now, that’s strange.”

Sister: “Um, what now?”

Mother: “You know how when you go to a school parking lot there’s always reserved spaces? Like, Principal and Vice-Principle?”

Sister: “Yeah . . . ?”

Mother: “Well, they have those, but they also have one that’s labeled “Confidential.”

Sister: “What? What are you talking about?”

Mother: “They have a reserved space concrete thing that says “confidential.”

Sister: “And?”

Mother: “Well, I think it’s weird. What do you think it means?”

Sister: “I have no idea.”

Mother: “Maybe an undercover cop or something that works in the school. Although that wouldn’t make much sense because then everyone would know who he is.” (Relieved that she picked up on this point, but also dismayed at her sexism.)

Sister: “No, I’ve never seen that before. Are you sure that it said “confidential”?

Mother: “No.”

Sister: ” . . . ”

Mother: ”Independence, are you there?”

Sister: “I have to go.”

Mother: “Let me call you back, the girls are here. I’ve got to go.”