Intern’s Log: My Mother Called Me, and I Am Not Prepared for This Conversation

  Date: [Why Is This My Life?]

  Intern ID: Reynolds, J. (I have survived alien abduction, genetic atrocities, and raccoon warlords, but I am not ready to deal with my mother.)

  So.

  I just got back from being abducted by an alien.

  I have barely processed the fact that:

  ? Humanity has pinged the universe as an "emerging power."

  ? We are being watched by things we probably can’t fight.

  ? Bandit has decided this means "the game has begun."

  ? I am deeply, deeply tired.

  And right as I pour myself another drink?

  My phone rings.

  I glance at the screen.

  And my soul leaves my body.

  MOM.

  Phase One: The Immediate Existential Crisis

  I stare at the phone.

  Because this is the worst possible timing.

  How do I even explain my life at this point?

  "Oh, hi Mom! Nothing much, just got abducted by aliens, accidentally helped create two new sentient species, and now my best friend is a power-hungry raccoon who may or may not declare war on the galaxy. How’s your bridge club?"

  Yeah.

  No.

  But if I don’t pick up, she will call again.

  And again.

  And then she’ll leave a voicemail that starts with “I just think it’s strange that you don’t answer your own mother’s calls.”

  I cannot survive that level of guilt.

  So I take a deep breath.

  And I answer.

  "Hi, Mom."

  Phase Two: The Interrogation Begins

  "Well, look who finally decided to pick up his phone!"

  Oh no.

  "I was starting to think you’d been kidnapped!"

  I choke on my drink.

  "Uh. No, of course not."

  "Mmm-hmm."

  She does not believe me.

  Great.

  "So where have you been, sweetheart?"

  I need to lie.

  I need to say something normal.

  But my brain?

  My brain is gone.

  So I just blurt out:

  "Oh, you know. Work."

  She pauses.

  "Work?"

  "Yeah! Work!"

  "The same work that won’t let you tell your own mother what you do?"

  Shit.

  Phase Three: The “You Need to Settle Down” Lecture

  "Reynolds, sweetheart," she sighs. "You know I worry about you."

  "I know, Mom."

  Stolen story; please report.

  "You never visit."

  "I—uh, yeah, been busy."

  "You never date."

  "Mom—"

  "Do you even have a retirement plan?"

  I rub my face.

  "I do not think I’m going to live long enough for a retirement plan."

  Bad move.

  Because now she is in Full Mom Mode.

  Phase Four: She Has Found Me a “Nice Girl” Again

  "Well, I was actually calling because I have someone I think you should meet!"

  Oh.

  Oh no.

  "Mom—"

  "She’s very nice! She works in biotech! You’d have so much in common!"

  I want to scream.

  "Mom, I do not have time to date right now."

  "You always say that."

  "Because it’s always true!"

  "Oh, please. You’re not too busy. You just choose not to make time for it."

  I am literally helping a raccoon plan for interstellar war.

  But sure, let’s pretend I’m just being difficult.

  Phase Five: The Worst Thing I Could Have Said

  "Besides," she continues, "you’re not getting any younger."

  I groan.

  "Mom, I am literally trying to stop an existential crisis right now."

  Bad.

  Bad, bad, bad.

  Because she pauses.

  "Oh, really?"

  Oh, shit.

  "And what exactly does that mean?"

  I panicked.

  I said the worst possible thing.

  I blurted out:

  "Mom, I have made so many bears."

  Silence.

  Pure.

  Unfiltered.

  Silence.

  Phase Six: She Thinks I’m Talking About Grandkids

  "…Reynolds."

  "Yeah?"

  "Are you telling me… that I am a grandmother?"

  I almost drop the phone.

  "WHAT? NO! THAT’S NOT—MOM, LISTEN—"

  "OH, REYNOLDS, SWEETHEART, WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?"

  "MOM, PLEASE, THEY’RE ACTUAL BEARS."

  "Oh, honey, that’s so wonderful! I don’t care how unconventional it is, as long as they make you happy!"

  I am dying.

  I am physically dying.

  Phase Seven: Bandit Overhears and Makes Everything Worse

  At this exact moment, Bandit walks in.

  Sees me curled over, gripping my head in despair.

  Raises an eyebrow.

  "What’s up?"

  I just shake my head furiously.

  But it’s too late.

  Because Mom hears his voice.

  "Who’s that?" she asks, suspiciously.

  "No one!"

  Bandit grins.

  "Is that your mother?"

  "BANDIT, I SWEAR TO GOD—"

  He grabs the phone.

  "Hello, Mrs. Reynolds! I am delighted to finally speak with you!"

  I have lost all control of my life.

  Final Thoughts (I Am Not Surviving This Call)

  ? I was abducted by aliens.

  ? I am now part of an interstellar crisis.

  ? My mother thinks I have children.

  ? Bandit is speaking to her.

  ? There is no coming back from this.

  I don’t know what happens next.

  But I do know this—

  I am never answering my phone again.

  End Log.