“Call me Dave or DB, man, and I don’t know how to explain that to you. What did your friend think about it all?”
“He thinks my family’s the sh-shtuff,” he corrected. “He went into school on Monday telling everyone what a queef was and that he’d found out from my cool mom and aunt.”
I’d only just managed to take proper deep breaths when my phone pinged in my hand.
Alex: Yo, Maeve, Cody’s telling us how you educated him and his pal about queefs. Apparently, he went into school on the Monday after it and told all of the others what it was.
Again, the replies were fast and furious.
Dad: What’s a queef? Is it a type of taco at that awesome place in Piersville?
Roque: This is the shit I’m talking about. Dad, get Mom to admit I’m adopted. I’ve been begging my whole life for you to admit it, now’s the fucking time.
Then he sent a video and tagged Dad in it. I didn’t hit play because we were in a hospital, and I didn’t trust him to send something that wouldn’t make people look at me with disgust.
Which was probably just as well because Dad’s reply gave away what the content of it was.
Dad: Is she farting out her vagina? For real?
Maeve: I forgot they were there when I had that conversation with Evie. Kids these days need to wear bells so we know where they are.
Alex and Roque’s replies came through at the same time.
Roque: Yeah, she is, Dad. That’s what your daughter taught two eleven-year-olds.
Alex: I’m sending the video to my son right now—who, FYI, is sitting next to your grandson, discussing food and video games, and dressed in his uniform.
I’d only just finished reading the message when Dave’s phone beeped. Reaching into the pocket on the front of his vest, he pulled out his phone and frowned at the screen.
“You sent me a video?”
“Just watch it. Evie’s sister just sent it to me, and trust me, you’ll find it amusing.” Alex sounded so serious that even I believed him for a moment.
Well, I would have if I couldn’t see him discreetly recording his son with his phone out of the corner of my eye.
Sure enough, Dave watched the screen, confusion blatant as a girl started singing. But then a loud and seriously gross farting noise sounded, and his expression changed to complete disgust.
“That’s a queef?” he gasped, blushing and looking around the recovery area to make sure no one else had heard it.
“She farted out her chooch, man,” my son rasped, laughing and then groaning. “That didn’t feel good.”
I was just leaning over to ask him if he needed me to call a nurse when Dave hissed, “She did that out of her vagina? And posted it online for people to see?”
At our nods, he pushed his fingers through his hair, shaking his head and shuddering. “What in the fu-uhhh-reaking hell is wrong with people?”
“You don’t have to keep holding back on the cussing, DB. I hear it all the time.”
Both men's eyes turned to look at me, and I only just held back the blush.
Defensively, I lifted my chin. “It doesn’t all come from me. Stop looking at me like I teach him how to curse and conjugate it so he can use the words for all situations.”
Realizing how handy that skill would be, though, I made a mental note to give it a whirl the next time we had a girls’ night.
“Mom and her friends will be trying that,” Cody—aka, the narc—said. “You should see it when they do their special effects makeup sessions. They’re neat, but the most random stuff comes out of them while they’re doing it.
“I think it’s the ‘mommy juice boxes’ that makes it happen. I mean, they’re random and weird all the time, but they’re even worse after a couple of those.”
Again, both men smirked at me as the narc spilled more of my secrets. Well, they weren’t secrets, per se. They were more under the category of ‘shit people didn’t need to know in case they thought I was a shit mother and a lush.’
“I’ll go get the nurse. You look like you need some painkillers,” I hissed at my son. “Let’s see if they’ll knock you out again, shall we?”
As I left to do just that, I heard the deep chuckles of the older men joined by the higher-pitched ones of my son. When he groaned loudly again I felt bad for him, but I was also relieved that he’d be getting something to help him out. Not only would he not feel the pain, but he’d shut the hell up.
We didn’t get any Mexican food from Tambien Tacos that night. There was a delay in transferring him out of the area he’d been in, and Dave and Alex left after Cody settled into his room and had fallen asleep.