A Little Side of Geek

by Marguerite Labbe

  “What vegetables go into a mirepoix?” Theo asked, and Morris’s eyes went blank. Since Morris had given him a question Theo had a chance of answering he figured he could give him a clue. “It’s your aromatics, the start of many soups, stews.”

  “This is when we need Brenden. He’d know it,” Dakota said with a you’re-on-your-own smirk.

  “You mean like a ginisa?” Felipe asked with a curious look. “Garlic, onions, tomatoes, sautéed in a bit of oil, a little meat for flavoring? My lola does that.”

  “I haven’t heard the term before.” Theo’s interest was piqued. He was always looking for new recipes and techniques. “What kind of food does your lola cook?”

  “All kinds, Filipino mostly, especially on big occasions or when she’s feeling homesick.” Felipe shrugged. “She likes to cook. She says it’s relaxing.”

  “If she ever feels like sharing recipes, I’d be happy to take them.” Theo didn’t mind the input of others, especially since it seemed as if some of them were on his side.

  “I’ll let her know,” Felipe promised.

  “Sorry, man. My freezer is full of Hot Pockets, pizzas, and burritos, though I do cook a mean pot of ramen,” Morris said. “Half of what you said is as meaningless to me as if I’d said Copic and Prismacolor to you.”

  “I will take a stab at it and guess it has something to do with coloring? Pencils?” Theo guessed, and Jackie caught his gaze with an encouraging nod. “Oh no, wait, I’ve got it. They are graphic art programs?”

  “Yes and no,” Morris replied. “Copic are markers, damned expensive ones when you’re on a budget. I do have some Prismacolor pencils too. I’ll count that as partial points again. So what’s in a mirepoix?”

  Two partial points in a row—that was grounds for taking a leap. “I’m off the Thursday after next. Come up to my place for dinner and I’ll teach you.” Theo met Morris’s gaze and saw the temptation, but there was enough hesitance to make him wonder what held him back. Bad breakup?

  “I’ll consider it based on how you answer this,” Morris hedged and held up a third finger. “Final question. Star Trek or Star Wars?”

  Theo had seen movies from both franchises and enjoyed them even though they weren’t his usual genre. But he was having too much fun with Morris’s reactions to admit to it. “Hmmm.” Theo drew his eyebrows together, pretending puzzlement, and stifled a chuckle as Dakota shook his head with an expression of disbelief. “I like the one with the little robot,” he teased. “What’s his name…? I took Lincoln to the movie.”

  “The little robot,” Felipe said under his breath with a nudge to Dakota.

  “Star Wars, aha, I got one!” Theo grinned. “Full points to me.”

  Jackie patted his hand in a pitying gesture. “That’s debatable, but I’m on your side. Morris, you should take him up on his dinner offer.”

  “Well, you’re not completely hopeless.” Morris laughed with a shrug. Theo wondered if Morris actually had a preference with his questions or if he’d just been trying to gauge the depth of Theo’s cluelessness.

  “Yes he is,” Dakota said. “Run screaming now.”

  “Please, we all have our issues,” Theo cut in, focusing all his attention on Morris. “I for one am absolutely offended you could think to butcher a steak order the way you do, yet I’m still interested. Give a non-geek a chance.”

  A slow smile crossed Morris’s lips. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but okay. Mirepoix at your place it is.”

  “You won’t regret it.” Theo grinned and stood up, casting a quick glance around at the rest of the group. “Last call for anything in the kitchen. I’m getting ready to shut it down.”

  Felipe eyeballed the smeared chocolate on his plate, all that remained of his dessert. “No.” Dakota took his plate away and set it on the edge of the table. “No more for you.”

  Felipe shot him a fierce scowl. “You have no say. We’re a casual thing, remember?”

  “Bullshit. I have every say. Because I’m the one who has to listen to you bitch about the state of your thighs the next time you get into a costume.” Dakota tapped his finger against Felipe’s mouth as Felipe drew himself up, his eyes flashing dangerously. “For the record, I like your thighs any way I can get them. I don’t like the rants.”

  Theo knew better than to get in the middle of that one. Felipe did not look mollified in the least. He beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen, taking the offending plate with him before Felipe launched it at Dakota’s head.

  Chapter Five

  LAILA PARKED her wheelchair under the shaded canopy of the pavilion as Morris set their cooler underneath the table. Before he had a chance to finish laying out their towels on nearby chairs and dig out the sunscreen, she’d already shucked her T-shirt and shorts. His niece might not be able to get around on land as fast as she wanted to, but in the water, she was an eel and always impatient to go swimming.

  “Hurry up, Uncle Morris.” Her voice was high with excitement as she eyed the cool water longingly. They were early enough that the pool hadn’t yet filled up with the usual after-lunch crowd. With the exception of a few families getting a start on the holiday, they would have the lanes to themselves.

  “Hold on. I need to get some of this on you.” He held up the bottle of spray-on sunscreen.

  “Forget that. I just need my swim cap and goggles.” Laila wadded her T-shirt and shorts together and tossed them onto the chair with an overhand lob. Her arms and legs were rail thin from a recent growth spurt. Morris remembered those days when it seemed like he was a bundle of sticks shooting upward.

  “Oh no, no way I’m going to explain that to your mom when you come back with a sunburn. Hold still, wiggle worm.”

  Laila gave him a long-suffering look but patiently subsided as he sprayed on the stuff. “How much longer do we have until adult swim time?” she asked as she stuffed her thick hair under the cap. His sister had a hell of a time keeping her still long enough to braid it back.

  “Over half an hour,” Morris replied with a quick glance at the clock near the lifeguard station. “Then we can bake in the sun for a bit and start all over again.”

  Laila’s answering grin was pure sunshine. “And we can stay all day? Promise?”

  “Right up until the time when we have to get ready to go to Grandma’s house.” Morris tapped her nose and handed Laila her goggles.

  “Yay!” Laila lifted her strong arms and wrapped them around Morris’s neck as he scooped her up. “I wish you lived closer, Uncle Morris. Then we could do this all the time.”

  “I promise, every weekend this summer I don’t have a show, I’ll come up at least one day,” Morris said as he stepped into the pool. They must’ve just filled it that week because it was shockingly cold in the blazing heat of the day. He paused on the second step. “I’m not sure my body can take this.”

  “Uncle Morris! Don’t be such a wimp.”

  “Ouch. I don’t know what shocks me more, the water or your sass.” Morris braced himself against the chill and carried himself the rest of the way in.

  As soon as she was fully submerged, Laila let go of him with a squeal and eeled away, her slim body cutting through the water with astonishing quickness and agility. She pulled herself through with her upper body, her legs trailing behind her. If Laila could live in the pool, she would. Her head popped out of the water several yards away, and she twisted around to look back at him. “Race ya.”

  “Whatever, shrimp. You couldn’t take me on your best day,” Morris said, moving his arms in lazy circles. It wasn’t so bad once his body adjusted, and the sun beating down on the top of his head added warmth.

  “I betcha I can. I practiced at camp all last summer. Gonna do it again this year too.”

  Laila’s summer camp had been the best thing to happen to her since the accident that left her paralyzed. They’d watched her confidence bloom as she was encouraged to dare and dream as much as she wanted without an overprotective family hovering over every move
she made. Camp had also taught them they didn’t have to treat Laila like a broken china doll, and once they stopped doing that, she stopped acting like she was one.

  Morris came up alongside her and rolled onto his back. “What? Did they give you flippers and gills?”

  Laila giggled and swam over to the wall. “I’ll go easy on you.”

  “Hey, that’s my line.” Morris took a position beside her and eyed the length of the pool. “Okay, on my mark, one, two, three.”

  Laila couldn’t push off, but that didn’t stop her for one moment. She was gone, arms stroking smoothly as she swayed her body, coordinating her breathing with her strokes. Morris took off after her, moving at an easy pace until he realized he’d better push it. He was a little surprised that he had to work to catch up with her. She’d gotten to be fast, and he spent far too much time sitting on his ass at his art table. Then, as they neared the far wall, she put on a renewed burst of speed and slapped the wall a split second before him.

  “Now I know they gave you gills. How the heck did you breathe the entire way?” Morris demanded.

  Laila’s eyes sparkled with delight. “You turn your face up as you lift your arm.” She pantomimed it.

  “What kind of Canadian voodoo is that?” Morris demanded suspiciously as she swam in circles around him.

  “It’s not voodoo, it’s science.” With that final say, Laila splashed off, leaving Morris in her wake.

  By the time they left the pool and went to his mom’s house for a wash-up and change of clothes, Morris was exhausted and ravenous. The lunch he’d packed didn’t hold up to chasing Laila around for hours. And she acted like she had energy to spare.

  This weekend off from work would leave him behind, but he had to admit he’d be better off for it. He’d be back at it Tuesday with a clearer head. From the top of the stairs, he could hear feminine chatter, the voices of his three sisters mixed with his mother’s and the high piping of Laila. The scent of cooking food sent his stomach to growling. The chances of him being able to swipe a taste were nil. They’d either chase him off or interrogate him.

  Quietly, Morris came down the stairs. Through the hallway, he could see the ladies moving between the kitchen and dining room. Morris slunk around the newel post and headed toward his dad’s den. He always had some snacks hidden away. They could catch up until it was time to fire up the grill. Morris rapped on the door with the back of his knuckles.

  “Come in.”

  The den smelled of leather, books, and his dad’s cologne. Law reviews, binders of research, reference books, and all the other trappings of his dad’s successful legal career lined the tall bookshelves. Morris remembered hanging out here as a kid, avoiding his sisters, and drawing in a corner as his dad worked.

  In his dad’s office, there was no talk about Morris’s lack of a love life, his tendency to hole up at home and bury himself in his work. He knew it came from love and concern, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. He was quite content where he was and saw no reason to change. Though his dad often did question him about the state of his finances, it was somehow different from the other questions. He wasn’t trying to change him, Morris supposed, just his career. He was a quiet introvert. He could be outgoing when he was in his comfort zone or after he’d gotten to know someone, but he didn’t seek it out. For all of their differences, his dad seemed to understand that about him and accept it as okay. Sometimes with his family, Morris had to pick his battles.

  Augustus glanced up from his newspaper, grinned, and set it aside. “Hey there, stranger. How’d you get in here without being accosted?”

  “They’re occupied getting the rest of dinner together. I thought it would be safer in here until it was time to grill.” Morris’s stomach let out a loud protest as he sat in the chair on the other side of the desk. “I don’t suppose you have anything to tide us over hidden away in here.”

  Without a word, his dad pulled open the bottom drawer and tossed Morris a protein bar. “What the heck is this?” Morris asked, shaking the bar. “What happened to the good snacks?”

  “Your mother.” His dad grimaced as he eyed the snack bar with disgust. “She’s on a new health food fixation. She’s been seeing this nutritionist once a week. She’s tossed anything I can make out of a box and gone on a no processed food kick. Do not let her see your pantry.”

  “Oh man, that sucks.” Morris’s stomach didn’t care if it would taste like cardboard or not, he wanted something now. The aromas wafting down the hall from the kitchen were pure torture. He tore open the wrapper, took a bite, and grimaced. It tasted like sawdust.

  “Where do you find all of those skirts?” Augustus eyed Morris’s black kilt. “I’ve never gone into a store and seen a man-skirt before. And since you’ve taken to wearing them, I’ve looked out of curiosity.”

  “It’s not a skirt. It’s a utility kilt.” Morris wolfed down the rest of the bar and tossed the wrapper. “Mostly find them online. Occasionally there’s a vendor with them at a show. Don’t knock them, Dad. They’re surprisingly comfortable, especially in the summer.”

  “If I showed up in court in one of those, I’d probably get slapped with contempt.” Morris tried to picture Augustus Proctor arguing before the judge in a kilt and realized there were limits to his imagination.

  “If I ever saw you in a kilt, I’d swear I was dead and gone,” Morris said with a laugh. He got his height and breadth of shoulder from his dad. People said they were so much alike, but beyond those physical characteristics, Morris didn’t see the similarities.

  “I should do it just to see the look on everyone’s face.” Augustus sat back, folding his hands over his stomach. “Makayla said you did a show last weekend. How did that go?”

  His dad didn’t ask about his art much, though he did check to be sure Morris was okay, the bills were getting paid, and he had enough to eat. Morris didn’t want to toss his job choice in Augustus’s face either, that he, out of all his kids, his only son, went in the complete opposite direction of stable, steady income—or at least what his dad would term stable, steady income. Morris was sure his dad was proud of him, but he was a little afraid to ask. He definitely knew he baffled the man with his life.

  “Good. Got some work out of it that kept me busy last week. It was nice to take a bit of a break from the book, but I have to start working on the next issue.” Morris already had the outline of it in his head after his day at the pool with Laila.

  “Laila does love being your main character. She talks about it all the time, to anyone who’ll listen.”

  “She’s my biggest cheerleader.” It was one of the many things Morris adored about his niece.

  “They’re good stories. You always did have quite an imagination.”

  Morris’s head jerked up as he stared at Augustus in surprise. “You’ve read them?”

  “Of course I read them.” Augustus sounded insulted. “My son wrote them. My grandbaby stars in them. Why wouldn’t I read them?”

  Morris glanced down at his hands, suddenly flustered. “I thought….” He shoved his hair back with a huff. He knew his mom read them and Laila, but he’d never pictured his dad getting into them. “I’m not sure what I thought. You never mentioned it before. I guess that maybe you wished I was doing anything for a career but this.”

  “Well, it is a worry, I won’t lie. I wish you had a job that offered health insurance,” Augustus said, tapping his fingers together.

  “I have health insurance.” It wasn’t an expense Morris wanted. He was generally healthy, but after Laila’s accident, he realized that something could happen to anyone at any time.

  “What about a retirement plan?” Augustus asked with the air of a man getting ready to cross-examine, and Morris had to stifle the urge to squirm.

  “I’m not sure if an artist ever really retires.” The thought of putting the pencil down was too alien. Morris had been drawing as long as he could remember. He was sure that one day, many decades from now, someone woul
d find him slumped over his art table with a pencil still grasped in his hand.

  “What if an emergency pops up?” Augustus asked as he leaned forward. “Life does throw curve balls.”

  “I do have savings.” It might not be robust, but Morris had managed to tuck away a little money here and there, enough that he wasn’t having sleepless, anxious nights wondering if he’d make enough to cover the rent. He had steady work now that he supplemented by teaching. One thing he’d promised himself when he started this gig was he wouldn’t go into debt to get his stuff out there. He had run successful crowdfunding campaigns to get himself started, and now he didn’t need that. The sales from his last book paid for the printing of the next. He had an online store connected with his comic and deals with various local brick-and-mortar stores. While he wasn’t going to be the next Jim Lee or Rob Liefeld, he felt he was succeeding in his chosen profession.

  “I have to ask,” Augustus said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “And I know I ask often, but it doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy what you create. I just wish you had more of a backup, something steady you can build a budget around.”

  The door opened before Morris could reply that he did have a budget. He glanced over his shoulder to see who had rescued him as his twin, Makayla, slipped in. Augustus had passed his height down to all of his children, and Makayla carried it with a willowy grace. The corner of her mouth lifted. “There you are, Tree.” She slid her arm around his shoulders for a quick hug and then caught him in a chokehold. “Next time I have to sic Laila on you to get you to come up for a visit, it’s on.”

  “Jeez, I swear, violent much?” Morris replied when she eased up on him.

  “I needed to make sure I made my point.”

  “The guilt trip made your point.” Morris took a swipe at her, but Makayla danced out of the way.

  “Too slow, bro.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “And I emptied the house of all of your Nerf guns. So don’t bother looking for them.”