Emergency Contact

by Mary H.K. Choi

Having a MILF for a mom was garbage.

If there were a subbasement level with a trapdoor below utter invisibility, Penny would have found a way to fall to it. Her social standing was nonexistent.

Penny believed with her whole heart that there were moments—crucial instances—that defined who someone was going to be. There were clues or signs, and you didn’t want to miss them.

Penny vowed not to show her work again until she respected who’d be reading it.

And I will call you because you are now my official emergency contact.”

Some people’s coping mechanisms were all about festering and secrecy and ruminating until you grew yourself a nice little tumor in your heart with a side of panic attack. Different strokes.

Maybe they could be friends when she was old enough to count as a person. Perhaps when she was twenty-five and he, at twenty-eight or twenty-nine, could be the cool, older guy-pal who would give her tax advice and beat the living daylights out of any age-appropriate boyfriend who mistreated her. Or at least glare at him in a menacing way. God. Sam would be almost thirty by then. Disgusting.

“This is probably how emergency contacts work. You say something to your person before you go nuts and blow a gasket.”

Sam wanted to tell Penny everything. He wanted a record of his thoughts and feelings and stories to exist with her. Like a time capsule for this strange period of his life. With her, he felt less lonely. He hadn’t even realized he was lonely. He hadn’t let himself.

You’re intense, so much fun, and maybe a bit nuts, and at the same time you’re super focused and passionate about how you want to live your life and your work and it’s beautiful. Also, NONE of this is meant to make you uncomfortable or put you on the spot (I know how you feel about compliments). You give the best advice (for a kid etc., etc., etc.).

Have a willie nice night!

“You’re mysterious. You’re the hella metal dude in high school who’s sexy even though he sneers and doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“Uh,” said Mallory quietly. “What psycho sets their texts to preview mode?”

“I get that,” said Sam. “But sometimes it’s so incidental that these people are the parents. Beyond the biology of it. It’s not as if they had to pass a test or unlock achievements to be the ones making the decisions. Sometimes they’re actually stupid. Certifiably dumber than you, but as their kid you’d never think to know that.”

“I forgot,” she said. “These are secret socks.” Sam thought about the secret sides of girls and how much he loved them.

“Even so,” she said. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met. And my favorite.” “And you’re mine,” he said.

“Well, you start your stories from the epilogue. Plus, none of your questions have anything to do with what’s being discussed.”

You’ve always spoken fluent me.”

“I bet you have a lot of people,” she said. “You’ve got to understand that not everybody’s going to be exactly your kind of person. They’re not going to be completely satisfactory or meet your myriad qualifications.”