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She’d been wrong. I’m one of the people in the world who actively uses higher mathematics on a daily basis.
I could point out I still managed to be the valedictorian of my class, but I’m done fighting with her.
It might be time to see if I can fight for her instead.
“I like how quiet the city seems,” I say as I sit down opposite her.
She nods and her head turns again, going back to staring outside. From this window she can see the streets below and the other buildings around us. The sun starts to peek through. “In half an hour it’ll be loud again.”
It’s never really quiet, but there are a few hours when one can pretend. “How is work going?”
She’s been a legal secretary for one of Manhattan’s oldest law firms for years. She hadn’t started there. She’d gone to secretarial school after my father died because she had to find a way to support us. She’d had no family or friends to rely on and had been left with nothing but a traumatized kid and a rent-controlled apartment.
I never asked her what she’d wanted to be. I simply assumed she was one of those people who fell into a career and had no real dreams of their own. I’ve been looking at her through a child’s eyes, the kind that don’t quite understand a parent is a person first and foremost. It’s a selfish thing, to believe a parent only ever wanted to be a mother or a father, that their lives are defined entirely by the child’s. And yet that’s what I’ve done for years and then judged her for it.
“It’s fine.” She seems a bit startled by the question.
“Working on anything cool?” I kind of like that I’ve thrown her.
“One of the lawyers is working on a big case, and we’ve all been pulled in. I’ve spent days combing through emails. It’s actually more interesting than one would think. I mean it’s mostly stuff about work, but every now and then you get the idiot who sends his mistress emails from his work computer.” She shudders. “And did you know some men send pictures of their…”
“I know what a dick pic is, Mom. Sorry you have to know, too.” There should be some privileges that come with age. I can’t help but smile though.
Her lips curl up slightly, too. “Well, it was quite a shock that first one. Now Mattie and I compare them. I think there’s something wrong with one of those men. It’s very small and he’s not good at grooming, but he keeps sending it out. There’s a certain level of optimism and tenacity I would appreciate if I wasn’t also disgusted. The things people keep. Well, I don’t think they mean to keep them. I don’t think most people understand how systems work these days. Not that I’m telling you anything you don’t know. We still use the system you designed. My bosses always talk about how smart it is.”
It's the nicest thing she’s said to me in a long time. I’m proud of that system. There were backups of backups. I keep everything. I learned that from Benjamin. He’d taught me to keep every email, every text, every voice mail. A few years back I’d designed some protocols that connected my backup systems to my computer, phone, and tablets. It’s an easy way to ensure nothing gets lost. I’d let my mom take it to her bosses, and they’d implemented it, too.
I love doing things like that—making things easier, streamlining processes. I love the daily work of taking a system and making it better. Somewhere along the way I’d lost that. “I’m glad.”
“Well, I wish the defendant in this case had our software.” She grimaces. “Not that they would give us what we need in a neat package. It’s one of the tactics all firms use. Overwhelm the opponent in discovery. Although we would have to actively screw everything up if it happened to us. That system makes it easy to search for things. When that biddy Pauline Maxwell tried to pin her screwup on me, I easily found all the emails I needed to prove her wrong.”
I find myself relaxing as we talk for the first time in a long time. “Glad I could help, Mom.”
“So what are you doing here? I thought you spent all your time with that young man now. Heath, isn’t it? He seems nice. Not like the last one.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be seeing him on a personal basis anymore,” I say carefully, trying to make myself believe it. “I think we should concentrate on work.”
I can plainly see she’s disappointed in me. “Well, that shouldn’t be surprising. Can I ask what he did to offend you? Or did you have enough of him and wanted to get back to work?”
