“Mary Shelley was Mary Wollstonecraft’s daughter.”
“Right, right, of course,” I said once she’d connected the dotsfor me. I filed the fact away for future trivia use. “So what did you discover? I haven’t readFrankensteinin forever.”
Patricia considered the question as she blew on her mug. “I wouldn’t call it an outwardly feminist book. But the ‘birth’ of the monster is interesting when viewed through a feminist lens. Victor Frankenstein subverted the laws of nature in several ways, including male maternity.”
I took a gulp of the still-hot cocoa and winced. How was it possible that I was sitting on Andrew Gibson’s front porch talking about feminism with his mother? And how had this lovely, clearly brilliant woman given birth to a man who was famous for using his double-header beer bong to attract women?
“Pat?” A deep voice echoed through the storm door. “Where’s Drew?”
“Honey, he’ll be here in a bit,” Patricia yelled back.
So it was going to be a family affair. I tried to visualize Andrew’s father before I saw him and conjured up a bear of a man, a little soft in the middle but still fit for his age, wearing an Eagles baseball cap. The man who appeared looked like he could be the accountant for the man I’d imagined.
“Oh, hello,” he said when he saw me, bobbing his head in my direction with a grin. “I forgot you were coming. I’m Gerard.”
A British accent? Andrew’s father wasEnglish?
He had to be adopted.
There was no other explanation as to how these two people could’ve created Andrew. His father was tall and reedy, a gray-haired professor of a man with the hint of a white beard and round arty glasses with thick gray rims. Even though he was about to do yard work he was dressed in pressed jeans and a striped button-down shirt.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Chelsea,” I said, standing up to shake his hand.
“Ah, my favorite footballers,” he said as he clasped my hand with both of his. “Lovely to meet you. Here’s hoping you can work your magic with the girls. Andrew tells us you’re quite gifted.”
I froze. Andrew talked about me to his parents?
The crunching of tires on the driveway made us all turn to watch as the man of the hour rolled in.
“There he is,” Gerard muttered. “Late.”
A dog inside the house started barking as Andrew got out of the car. He pulled back the seat and Dude came barreling out.
“Why did he bring the dog?” Gerard grumbled. “We never get anything done when Dude is here. It’s nonstop refereeing with him and Murray.”
“Stop,” Patricia chastised softly. “He’s young, he needs exercise, it’s good for him to be here.”
The boxer raced to the porch and cleared the three steps in a single leap, then nearly took my knees out. I glanced at Andrew to see if he noticed that his dog was accosting me, but he was too busy unloading tools from his Jeep. At least he was dressed appropriately for the cool weather, without a bicep or pec in sight beneath his black hoodie.
When he turned to head toward us it felt like he fixed me in a tractor beam of hate. He glared at me, unblinking, as he strode closer. I swear I felt the ground rumbling with each step, like he was a giant who was angry about the trespasser on his beanstalk.
So why did my stomach do a little flip-flop?
“Hey,” he said as a general greeting. “Sorry I’m a little late.”
“More than a little,” his father corrected. “Off we go.”
“Can you let Murray out for Dude?” Andrew finally acknowledged that his dog needed a distraction other than trying to chew his way through my treat bag.
“Drew, if these two run off again I swear I won’t be wasting a second chasing them down,” Gerard scolded. “We have work to do, and you know they always come back.”
Patricia wordlessly moved to the door and let a big-eared, spotty white and black cattle dog mix out to greet his boxer nephew. They tackled one another and took off into the yard.
I glanced between Gerard and Andrew and felt like I was in the middle of a grudge match. It felt sort of familiar, the clipped shorthand born from a thousand little and not-so-little disagreements that eventually lit the fuse to the crackling tension in the air. Gerard was fixed on his son and Andrew was staring off in the direction the dogs had run.
“You certainly are grumbly today,” Patricia said under her breath as she brushed by her husband.
“We’re behind!” Gerard exclaimed. “We have a lot to accomplish before the sun goes down.”
