Tessa: Seriously, you get one shot to ask me something, and that’s what you’re going with?
It would appear that my bratty girl is pissed that I’m not inquiring about something more personal when she has repeatedly claimed that’s the last thing she wants. There’s a method to my madness though. Inciting her is far more telling than discovering whether she’s an animal activist or paranormal fan.
Me: It’s not one shot. I get one every day. That’s a whole lot of questions. We could live to be 120. That’s roughly 30,000 fun facts.
Tessa: That sounds like torture. This must be the vampire angle, making me crave death. Speaking of which, this could be my last day on earth, and you would have wasted your fun fact on a raccoon.
Me: If this is your last day alive, you should choose the mind-blowing orgasm.
Her response is immediate, and I can hear her laugh in my mind.
Tessa: Valid.
Me: I’m starting to make sense to you. Here comes the stage-five-clinger era of our relationship.
Tessa: This is not a relationship, Maddox. This is a hostage situation.
Me: I see Stockholm syndrome in your future.
Tessa: I see the ghost of Maddox Noire in it too.
I dip out for another couple of hours until she’s probably settling in after dinner.
Me: Got an answer for me? Raccoon in bathtub or ghost in attic?
She doesn’t reply right away, so I start to wonder if she’s going to ignore me, but fifteen minutes later, her dots start galloping.
Tessa: Sure, but then I get a question.
Me: Deal.
Tessa: Zero.
Despite that answer being vague and not exactly in line with the choices I presented, it only takes a minute to figure out what she’s talking about. I know her better than I realized.
Me: The ghost dog from Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas.
Tessa: Yeah. Your turn.
I don’t press for more because I’m touched that she wants to ask something in return.
Me: Shoot.
Tessa: What songs would you want to be played at your funeral?
Me: You’re hung up on my days being numbered, I see. Or you’re aching for a spicy paranormal romance. Don’t you worry, baby. If I leave this earth before you, I’ll spend my days in purgatory andoffer those mind-blowing orgasms from the beyond.
Tessa: *eye roll emoji* Songs.
Me: All right. This is just off the top of my head and by no means complete. I’d like a healthy mix of styles, so here’s five: “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC, “We Trying to Stay Alive” by Wyclef Jean, John Forté, & Pras, “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” by Wham!, “Thriller” by Michael Jackson (as a sidenote on that one: I would appreciate it if people did the choregraphed dance), and “Ha Ha You’re Dead” by Green Day.
Tessa: You are truly a disturbing individual. Even in the afterlife, you’ll seek to make people uncomfortable.
Me: Absolutely. That is my day to shine, my final curtain call. It should be standing-ovation-worthy. With that in mind, I reserve the right to add to this list.
Tessa: I’ll be on the edge of my seat, waiting to see what makes the cut.
I bet she will be.
