“September 19th,” Delta replies. “It’s a Saturday.”
My heart sinks when I find the date. “Oh. I have a game that day.” Joy drains from both girls’ faces, and it’s like a gut punch to know I did that.
Suddenly, I have another idea. “Is there any way you can have the party the next day? On Sunday?”
They twist to watch their mom, eyebrows raised.
Renée thinks. “Well, we haven’t sent out invitations yet, so sweetie, if you’re okay with having it on Sunday—”
“YES!”
“—then we can do it Sunday.”
The girls and I are jumping and screaming while the dogs circle us, barking at us to either settle down or let them join in; I’m not sure. But when I cut out and let the girls run off with the dogs, I’m left staring at the pleased face of their mother. And now my heart’s racing for an entirely different reason.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she whispers.
“I know. I wanted to. And I’d like to host the whole thing if that’s okay. Have the entire party here. I have space. How many kids are coming?”
“I don’t know yet, but probably eight or nine and their parents.”
I flick my hand like that’s nothing. “No problem. She can invite her whole class if she wants.”
She chuckles. “You do not want that.”
But I do. I want to make that birthday girl happy. It’s not even about pleasing Renée—though yes, I absolutely want to please her more than I want to breathe. I really just want to bring a smile to the faces of these adorable girls. I know what it’s like growing up with only one parent, and while I’m not trying to replace their dad, I’d like them to counton me.
For these Wilde girls, I want to be someone special.
“Hey, do you think I should get her that chainsaw as a present, or do you think she wants something else?”
Renée narrows her eyes, and I receive her silent answer.
I cross my arms and nod, but an even better idea pops up. “Oh my God, what about a Nerf gun?”
Chapter 21
Girlfriend
Renée
“Remember to complete your pre-labs before Thursday,” I say to the small lecture hall of students as they pack up to leave. “No one’s going to know what the inside of a rat looks like unless you come to the lab prepared.”
Most of the students in this three-hundred level class are students I have taught since freshman year, and they are hoping to use their biology degrees for the greater good. Aspiring veterinarians, research scientists, marine biologists, what have you. At least theythinkthey’re in it for the greater good at this point. It’s easy to romanticize what your life will shape up to be when you’re young and hopeful—before the crushing reality of capitalism and greed and expectations of others set in. Oh, to be a kid just dreaming of saving the whales.
But the semester just started, and I would never purposely crush their dreams. Manage their expectations, yes. First-year students majoring in biology always hear the truth, and the unsure ones weed themselves out by the end of the year.
I do particularly enjoy this level, however. They ask smart, thought-provoking questions. There’s more diligence in reports, drawings, and presentations. Unlike the next class I have—my one hundred-level Pennsylvania Nature Study class—which starts in twenty minutes. It’s held in the largest auditorium-style classroom on campus because students from all different majors and programs take it as acultural enrichment course. This class is a breeding ground for students like Jonah—though no one is or was ever as brazen.
The last of my students trickle out, and I pack up my bag and head back to my office for a quick pit stop before my next class begins. My office is private, which not every professor on campus can say. There’s a large glass window overlooking the quad, and the walls are white with my framed degrees, a periodic table, animal anatomy posters, and ecological memes pinned to a corkboard (I’m fun, dammit).
Before grabbing a stack of workbooks for the next class, I check my phone to find a few new emails and a text from Jonah. An embarrassing heat fills my face when I ignore the emails and open his message first.
Jonah: This is white goldenrod (aka Solidago bicolor). Non-binary they/them. They have white flowers instead of yellow because they’re not as flashy as their goldenrod cousin. The flowers are tiny and pop off the sides of the stem. Insects like and love them. Birds snack on the leaves too. They grow 1-3 feet (I can relate ), and like chill dry areas like the edge of my property by the road. They grow all over Canada and the eastern half of the United States except Florida (what did Florida ever do to them?!)
Jonah: White goldenrod is non-toxic to dogs, but very toxic to horses and goats! I’m beginning to see why Florida doesn’t like them
Jonah: Scratch that... there’s confusion arounda plant with a similar name known as rayless goldenrod (Isocoma pluriflora) which is highly toxic to goats and other livestock, but that’s not what’s growing on my land
