Date: Fri, Jun 17, 2016 at 7:05?AM
Subject: One of those days, but with a twist...
To: Mom <>
Hi Mom,
Just wanted to write before the day slips away entirely, though it already has, judging by the state of my desk (think: archaeological dig site, minus the brushing tools).
Classes went well today. We wrapped up our unit on Neolithic burial practices, and I think I finally got through to at least half the class that grave goods aren’t just weird knick-knacks but actual cultural clues. The other half still thinks I’m trying to convince them to become grave robbers. Progress, I guess?
Anyway, here’s the part you’ll enjoy, there was a consultant on campus today, some tech upgrade specialist from one of the firms the university contracts with. He came in to evaluate our learning management system, and Mom... I made a complete fool of myself.
He had that calm, kind of distracted genius vibe, like he’d been dropped in from another dimension where everyone speaks fluent code and wears leather jackets unironically. And of course, the projector wasn’t cooperating, so I was already flustered, and then he smiled. I think I said something about "hardware spirits being restless," and he actually laughed. Not politely either. Like, real laugh.
I tripped over the HDMI cable five minutes later.
We talked briefly, very briefly, and I’m not even sure I got a full sentence out that didn’t involve me apologizing for something. And here's the kicker: I never got his name. Not even a first name. Just a flash of a smile, a few mysterious words about “streamlining backend latency,” and then, poof. Gone. I’m sure he was just doing his job, but I can’t help wondering if our paths might cross again. Hopefully next time I manage to keep my dignity (and my balance).
Maxine’s doing well. She’s in full dragon mode lately, spent half the evening practicing her “fire-breathing” routine with a flashlight and some dramatic sound effects. She’s been reading that fantasy series you got her, and now she’s convinced dragons are misunderstood scholars. Today, she told her teacher that recess drama should be settled “by council, not combat,” and then offered to chair the meeting. So… she’s either going to grow up to be a diplomat or run a Dungeons & Dragons campaign with ironclad rules. Either way, I’m proud.
Hope things are peaceful on your end. Write when you can, I miss your garden updates and hearing about whatever odd thing Dad’s doing with the lawnmower.
Love always,
Asil
From: Asil Oddo <>
Date: Wed, Jun 22, 2016 at 12:32?PM
Subject: Re: One of those days, but with a twist...
To: Mom <>
Hi Mom,
Okay, first of all, congrats on the bingo win! I could practically hear your triumphant “HA!” from here. I’m glad the basil’s thriving, though please tell Dad that 1987 was not a golden age for kitchen appliances. If he electrocutes himself trying to blend ice with that relic, I’m going to put “refused to buy a Ninja” on his tombstone.
Now, down to business.
I saw him again.
The mystery man. Walking across campus like he owned the sunlight, chatting with none other than Trevor, yes, my Trevor. I almost choked on my coffee and spilled it on someone’s thesis. It took all the restraint in the world not to bolt over there like I was reenacting a romantic comedy.
Instead, I waited like a grown-up and casually interrogated Trevor in the faculty lounge later that afternoon.
His name is Jack Hart. He’s with Mizura Consultants, the firm rolling out our new learning management system. Apparently, he’s been assigned to the implementation team for the College of Humanities, which means he might be haunting our hallways for a while. (Be still my academically-overworked heart.)
Of course, I asked Trevor the essentials, name, role, marital status, zodiac sign. Okay, maybe not the zodiac sign, but you know I asked if he was gay. Trevor just looked at me like I’d insulted his favorite wine and said, “Absolutely not. That man exudes straight chaos.”
He promised to dig up the rest of the dirt, though, so fingers crossed we find out if he’s single. Or at least emotionally available and not an android in khakis.
Maxine says hello, by the way. She helped me harvest cherry tomatoes this morning and then declared she was starting a “tiny food restaurant” where only stuffed animals are allowed to dine. She made a whole menu. Prices are in bark chips.
I’ll keep you posted on Jack (and Maxine’s culinary empire). Love you!
Always,
Asil
On Sun, Jun 19, 2016 at 3:19?AM Mom <> wrote:
Hi honey,
It was so nice to hear from you, your emails always brighten my day more than the Florida sun. Speaking of brightness, I won at bingo this week! Just a small pot, but enough to fund a celebratory pie and a new pair of gardening gloves. The tomatoes are finally coming in, and the basil’s trying to take over the yard like it owns the place. Your dad says it’s a metaphor for something, but he’s mostly just mad because he gave up on fixing the lawnmower and is now elbow-deep in the blender. Says we don’t need some “modern doohickey” when the one from 1987 “still has soul.” I’ve learned not to argue when he gets that look in his eye.
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Now about this mystery man, Asil, sweetie, you’ve got to put yourself out there. The universe doesn’t just keep sending sparks like that without reason. Next time you see him, trip on purpose if you have to, but for heaven’s sake, get his name.
Love you always,
Mom
From: Asil Oddo <>
Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2016 at 2:12?PM
Subject: Re: One of those days, but with a twist...
To: Mom <>
Hi Mom,
I know, I know, email silence for weeks. Blame the start-of-semester chaos, grading hell, and a ten-year-old who recently decided bedtime is a conspiracy. But I have been reading your messages, and the blender saga deserves a documentary. Please film Dad explaining why 1980s kitchen tech is superior, I need that content in my life.
Now… about Jack Hart.
It took over a month, but Trevor finally got a moment with him. Poor Trev was terrified Jack thought he was hitting on him, he even changed his shirt twice before approaching. (For the record, Jack did not, in fact, melt into a puddle of gay panic. But he is single.)
So, like the subtle, graceful adult I am, I immediately told Trevor to tell Jack I thought he was handsome and that I was interested. Because why be chill when you can be emotionally unhinged?
Apparently, Trevor passed along the message... and Jack just nodded and walked away. No response, no smile, just a nod. I almost had to fake my own death out of secondhand embarrassment.
But wait, it gets better.
A week later, Jack “randomly” showed up after my class to “update” the new software. He could’ve emailed. Or sent a help desk ticket. But no. He came in person. To talk. To me.
We ended up exchanging numbers and texting later that night. I may or may not have expertly steered the conversation until he asked if I wanted to grab lunch and catch a matinee this Sunday.
So… yeah. I think I have a date.
Maxine approves, by the way. She grilled me like a little detective, asked what he smells like (??), and told me if he has a dog, I should marry him.
I’ll keep you posted. Wish me luck!
Love always,
Asil
On Thu, Jun 23, 2016 at 6:49?AM Mom <> wrote:
Hi sweetheart,
You had me howling at the Ninja tombstone line, I nearly spit out my tea. Your father says the blender “just needed a little coaxing.” He’s now watching YouTube repair videos like it’s the Super Bowl.
Jack Hart, huh? That has a nice ring to it. I like the sound of this already. Good on Trevor for running recon. And no shame in asking if he was gay, that’s just efficient.
Tell Maxine I’d love a table at her bark-chip bistro. I’ll bring the basil.
Put yourself out there, darling. You deserve someone who lights up your day the way that man clearly did.
Love you always,
Mom
Asil:
Hey, thanks again for coming by today. The system seems to be running smoother. Either that or it just behaves when you're around.
Jack:
Haha, I’ll take credit either way.
Glad it’s cooperating, for now. These things are like cats: they pretend not to understand until you give up.
Asil:
Oh great, so you’re saying I should just throw a treat at the server and walk away?
Solid IT strategy.
Jack:
Only if it’s gluten-free and made of firewalls. ??
(That was terrible. I apologize.)
Asil:
You’re forgiven. But only because I’ve had to sit through three student presentations this week that used Comic Sans unironically.
Jack:
That is unforgivable. I owe you emotional support snacks.
Maybe coffee… and lunch?
Asil:
Well, I won’t say no to emotional support carbs.
Or lunch. Or you, really.
(Sorry, was that forward? Blame grading fatigue.)
Jack:
Honestly, I’m impressed. Most people take at least five more text exchanges before confessing their attraction.
Asil:
What can I say? I’m efficient.
Also, Trevor might’ve… possibly… told you I thought you were handsome?
Jack:
He did.
You made quite the impression.
(Also, Trevor definitely tried not to make it sound like a setup. He failed.)
Asil:
Poor Trevor. He tries so hard.
So... lunch and a matinee this Sunday?
Jack:
Lunch and a matinee sound perfect.
I’ll text you details tomorrow. Any movie preferences?
Asil:
Something with explosions and emotional trauma.
Or dragons. I’m flexible.
Jack:
Explosions, trauma, or dragons. Got it. You’re speaking my language.
Asil:
Careful, Jack Hart. You’re dangerously close to being my type.
Jack:
And here I thought I was still a mystery.
Looking forward to Sunday, Asil.
Asil:
Same.
And Jack?
No tech talk on the date, unless it’s about teleportation.
Jack:
Deal. But only if you promise not to psychoanalyze me over appetizers.
Asil:
No promises.