Lock up your daugher's (cell)

Fifteen years had passed from the time I saw Emmalicious to the night last winter when I walked up to the door of her mobile home and knocked on the door.

Our parents were friends when we were children, and as such their family was religiously invited to [insert special family function or party here]. We saw one another often.

Through divorces and misunderstandings our parents drifted apart. The last time I saw Emmalicious was when I was 12 years old. Fast forward to last winter and, for some reason, her name popped into my head. It took me all of five minutes to find her on MySpace.

After exchanging a dozen e-mails we decided that it would be a great idea to grab a drink and catch up one night. I knocked on the door of her apartment, she answered, we exchanged hugs. (She looked really, really good. But that isn't important to the story.) Her mom was there with her new husband, and her mom lost her shit about "how much you've grown! Oh you look so handsome."

We had an enjoyable time. The majority of the evening was spent with me lobbing questions at her about getting pregnant and shooting out two babies to a man who was, up until recently, serving a prison sentence for a variety of charges. This is only interesting because, growing up, Emmalicious was the most Catholic of women. I am pretty sure every memory I have of her from my childhood involves her wearing a white sundress with a little hat.

Yep, Emmalicious had babies. Two of them. Her children were 5 and 3. Adorable, sure, but they were putting quite a strain on this woman who clearly still enjoyed the sauce and spent weekends when they were at their father's to hit the bars, and hit them hard.

As a single mother she was close with her own. Her mom would play the role of grandmother and babysitter, as she was the night we first went out. Throughout that night she would shoot text messages back and forth with her mom, who was often inquiring about how things were going and if there were any funny stories to share.

A few weeks later we were hanging out again, this time on St. Patrick's Day with a bunch of her friends. Flash, her on-again off-again boyfriend. was also there that night. At some point in the evening Emmalicious left her cell phone sitting there on the table. For some reason that cell phone was beckoning me. That phone looked like a naked woman, waiting for me to scoop her up and do have my way with her.

I picked it up and flipped it open. E was looking the other way. I found the last text from her mom and hit "Reply." A new screen popped open. I started typing furiously. Holy shit, I thought, her mom is going to get a kick out of this.

My text?

"Mom, I'm pregnant. Again."

I shut the phone, placed it on the table and chuckled. No, wait, I laughed. Loudly.

Emmalicious turned around.

Emmalicious: "What's so funny?"
Me: "You may get a phone call from your mom in a minute."
Emmalicious: "Why?" She smiled. "What did you do."
Me: "Look at your sent texts."

She flipped open her phone, punched a few buttons and found the last text sent. Her face shifted, her mouth opened and her eyes exploded wide open.

Emmalicous: "Oh. My. God!" She burst into laughter and showed Flash, who in turn laughed his ass off. "She's going to love this."

These are the reactions I expected from her mother:

* Ha ha, very funny
* Yea right
* Oh stop
* Ur such a joker

Instead, this was the text message the three of us saw a few minutes later when she wrote back.

"Flash."

We chuckled.

That was quickly followed be.

"How far along?"

Seeing that, we all degenerated into fits of laughter.

That laughter was soon shattered by the ring of her cell phone.

She answered. After a few seconds of noise Emmalicious explained to her mother that, no, she was not in fact pregnant, that Scott was just playing a little joke.

Emmalicious: "I know, I know........I know."

She then extended her arm and held out the phone.

Emmalicious: "She wants to talk to you."

I swiped the phone from her hand.

Me: "Hello."
Man: "Yes, Scott, this is NewHusband."
Me: "Oh, hi. What's going on? You guys having a good time tonight?"
NewHusband: "Well, not really. Mother did not find that joke funny at all, she's actually quite upset about it."
Me: "Oh. (Did I mention to you guys that I was pretty fucking lit up by this point in the evening? No. I thought by now you would just assume. But, anyways, I was.) She understand that it's just a joke, right?"
NewHusband: "She does, she just doesn't particularly find it funny."
Me: "Put her on the phone. We go way back."
NewHusband: "She does not wish to talk to anyone right now."
Me: "Surely you are mistaken, sir. You are apparently misguided in not recognizing our shared history together. Please place the phone in her hand."
NewHusband: "She did not find the joke funny."
Me: "Well, while that may be true, I imagine that she will find the hilarity in time. In fact, I promise you that. Plus, you know, Emmalicious isn't pregnant. Perhaps she should focus on the good that this whole exchange pointed out."
NewHusband: [15-second pause of silence] "Put Emmalicious back on the phone, please."
Me: "Of course. Enjoy your evening."

I handed the phone back. They talked briefly and hung up. I asked Emmalicious if her mom would be OK, and she assured me she would.

PostScript: She wasn't. A few weeks later my mom sat down for lunch with the mother to reconnect after so many years of absence in one another's lives. The first thing the mom brought up was that night. She apparently was still upset by it. My mom scolded me as best she can while I am laughing at the circumstances. Her mom should get over it. Take a joke. ... I stand by my text.