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."


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    "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.