Parents' Day (And Grandmas Are Invited Too!)

Across the wide expanse of the gymnasium decorated with hanging banners and spotted with the heads of several hundred of his fellow students, Mark spotted her. And him. With a nose out of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and a round, knotted, bald pate that shone as if it was waxed, Professor Eden's boyfriend, whose fingers were tightly knitted through hers, looked as if he'd just come back from the dead. Mark smiled at the thought. "There she is," he said and pulled his mother through the crowd of pretentious sweaters, ponytails, and retching colognes.

"Mark!"

"Bette!"

"This is my boyfriend, Detective Jacob McKay-"

"The Assassinator!" Mark grabbed the man's hand and pinched it in his grip until he saw the detective pull away with a well-concealed grimace. "So nice to meet you. Bette brags on you all the time."

Detective McKay nodded and smiled.

"If I hear one more time how you're gonna catch that serial killer-"

"Mark!"

"Okay, I'm sorry." Mark's put his hands up in surrender. "Have you met my mom?"

Sarah exchanged pleasantries with Bette and Detective McKay, her smile opening just far enough so that they couldn't see her missing teeth. "You know you're Mark's favorite professor. He can't stop talking about you. Bette this, Bette that."

Bette lightly slapped Mark on the shoulder - and her boyfriend grimaced again. "Mark, you're so silly-"

"Well, you are the best!"

"Thank you, Mark."

Sarah moved closer to Mark and grabbed his hand, threading her fingers through his. She laid her head on his shoulder. "I wish I'd gone to college-"

"It's never too late, Mrs. Dennison-" Bette looked from Sarah's cocked head to Mark and back.

"Ah, it's past my time, dear-"

"I'm telling you, it's never too late. We have 80 year-old students here at Cedarville CC-"

"Hmm. Really?"

"Mom, do not enroll here-"

Sarah pulled away. "Why not?"

Mark shook his head and laughed. Then put his arm around his mother's shoulders and pulled her into him, her hand sliding into his back pocket. Bette looked down, then up, then crooked her neck to listen to what her boyfriend was leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Mark," she said, "are you thirsty? I think we should get a drink-"

"I'll get it. What do you want?"

"Um, a Coke'll be fine. And one for Jacob, too. No lemonade." She looked at Jacob. "The lemonade here is awful. It tastes like toilet water-"

"But the coffee-"

"Yeah, the coffee from the machine on the 3rd floor is pretty great. Especially if you put the right amount of cream in it. Which Mark always does-"

"You want a Coke mom?"

Sarah pulled per hand out of Mark's pocket. "Sure."

And Mark was gone. And back in 10 minutes. With four plastic cups of Coke. He handed them around. Then watched as his mother and Bette wandered off in the direction of Professor Gaelan Schiztomeur, the head of Cedarville Community College's English Department, who had gained fame as a recent immigrant for his young adult novels about the inner city lives of black youths living on the edge. Currently, Mark's English class was reading his latest cliche-riddled tome, Gangbangaz. Mark sidled up to Jacob. "So are you gonna catch him or what?"

Jacob's chin rose in the air as he grimaced once more. He took a swig of his Coke. "Depends-"

"On what?"

"If he lets us catch him-"

"Oh." Mark's eyes drifted from Jacob's plastic cup to his crotch, then back up to his turned away head. "But I thought you guys' job was-"

"Not with serial killers-"

"There's more than one?"

Jacob laughed. "No, no, there's only one. That's obvious. But he's clever. With these guys, you just have to wait for them to slip up."

"What if he doesn't?"

"Well-" Jacob finished his Coke in one gulp. Then winced. He seemed to be searching his teeth with his tongue.

"You gotta catch him. I don't wanna be all cut up with tin-snips-"

Jacob's mouth fell to a stop. He looked down at Mark. "How do you know tin-snips were used?"

"What?"

"How do you know tin-snips were used?"

"I don't know what you're talking about man. I didn't say anything about tin-snips-"

"Yes, you did." Jacob glared at Mark. And Mark stared back into the detective's steely blue eyeballs, behind which there seemed to rest no soul. Or brain. He burst out laughing. "Dude, it was in the paper-"

"Oh." Jacob fished his tongue around in his mouth once more, then stuck his fingers deep between his lips. As he removed them, he said, "Fuck!" On the tip of his index finger hung a curly, stiff hair, which he threw to the ground and mashed with his foot.