Page 5 of Dreams and Reptiles

She flicked her hair behind her shoulders. “You’re right. It isn’t about you. It’s about him being a stubborn asshole who put his pretentious brother and friends before his only son. How can I have any respect for him when he’s so willing to disrespect his own family?”

My parents had both been born in California and raised by immigrant parents. They struggled with their parents’ expectations of them and therefore had vowed that when they had their own children, they would be more realistic. In a lot of ways, they were, but that drive to succeed in the proper career path had been drilled into me since childhood. I’d wanted to please them, so I did the best I could in my studies and had been on the exact path my father wanted for me.

Until I wasn’t.

The lawsuit against my former employer for wrongful termination—and plenty of other ugliness I didn’t want to think about—was the final straw for Dad. He didn’t want our family name to be dragged through the media. He didn’t want his customers and clients to know his son damaged the reputation of his employer and then sued when he was let go.

He didn’t know that the wrongful termination was only part of the proceedings. He didn’t know how deep the hell I’d experienced really went, and the angrier he got, the less I would tell him.

When he finally demanded that I make other living arrangements, my mother told him that if he insisted I leave, she was also leaving. Dad didn’t put up a fight.

I had a feeling there may have been more behind her decision, but the fact that it had anything to do with me swept me up into a maelstrom of guilt and sank me further into depression.

She’d stood up for me, left her husband… and I hadn’t even told her the worst part of what happened.

“Your father and I have very different beliefs about how people should live their lives, and after thirty-three years of marriage, I’d had enough of his judgments. I am entitled to live my life the way I want to, and, for the first time in decades, I don’t have to worry about what he’ll think.” She turned and smiled at me, patting my hand on the gear shift. “Neither of us do. We can be free to chase our own dreams. Isn’t that what this move is all about for you?”

My mom always got me. I was grateful to have her by my side.

“I can’t thank you enough for believing in me.”

“Always,” she whispered. “Now, please tell me I’m not going to have to deal with too much nature.”

“Of course not,” I said, hoping I wasn’t misleading her. “We’re not going to be in the wilderness. It’s not the jungle or the outback. And if for some reason we come across too much nature, we’ll deal with it, right?”

“Riiiiight,” she said, sounding less sure.

“That is too much nature, Francis.”

I’d just finished showing Mom around the main house, and we were standing on the back patio staring in awe across the grassy field separating my property from the neighbor’s as a giant dinosaur-looking creature munched its way across the grass. It was coming toward us at… well, not at a breakneck speed, but faster than I wanted anything that big coming at me.

“What is that?” I breathed.

“I think that’s a giant tortoise. Do you remember when I took you and your cousins to the Oakland Zoo? They had them there.”

“Mom, the only thing I remember about the zoo was getting sick because I ate all of my dino nuggets, all of Max’s fries, and all of Derek’s potato chips. Then you took us on the gondolas, I cried, and I upchucked my lunch into the trees above the lion habitat.”

She pressed her lips together. “You never liked heights much.”

I shook my head. “That’s putting it mildly. Is that… is that thing getting closer? I feel like I’m watching Monty Python and The Holy Grail and the guy just keeps on running from the same distance until he attacks. That’s it, huh? At some point, we’re going to get trampled by a tortoise? It’ll be a slow, drawn-out death?”

“It’s good you’re finally going to get all the drama out of your system with your retreat here. When is the acting workshop?”

I’d met the local theater leader a month or so ago when Derek and I came out for the inspection on the place. We hung out at Pints and Pool, and Derek introduced me to all kinds of people, including Jim and his husband, Finn. They were excited about the possibilities of having an artist retreat in town. Finn agreed to teach a bi-weekly class as part of a ballroom dance social series. That was going to start in a couple of weeks. Jim was interested in doing some workshops, but he encouraged me to reach out to the universities and colleges in the area to try to pull in some of the students.

“We haven’t scheduled it yet. I need to reach out to… That thing is really getting closer. Oh my goshness.”

“Your first challenge as a homeowner,” Mom said, clasping her hands in front of her. “I’m going to let you handle it on your own. It’s good practice. You don’t think that thing can get through the sliding-glass door, do you?”

“Really? You’re just leaving me out here defenseless?”

She rolled her eyes. “Francis, I know you can run faster than that thing. Look, it’s kinda cute.”

She promptly shut the sliding-glass door, and I heard the lock click.

“Wow.”

I rested my hands on my hips and tried to think. Did they have animal control in a city this small? Did I just call the emergency number?