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By Root 303 0

judging them. I mean, I used to, you know, think it was pretty dysfunctional that my parents got along better when they never saw each other. But… uh … until I’ve been married as long as they have, I’m in no position to say what’s a healthy relationship and what’s not. So big whoop, when my mom is at her office, my dad is at home. When my mom is at home, my dad is on his bike. Is it weird that when they do choose to spend time together, it’s rarely at the condo but on a cruise ship thousands of miles away? Maybe. Maybe it is really, really weird. But it works for them, and they seem happy enough, so …”

“Where do they go? Anywhere interesting?”

“Places that no one in their right mind would ever go to for a vacation.”

“Like where? Iraq? Somalia?”

“Like Canada.”

“Canada? What’s so bad about Canada?”

“There’s nothing, like, intrinsically bad abooot Canada. But it is cold. I don’t know; it’s just not the first place I think of when I think of a vacation. The country I considered fleeing to during the right-wing reign of terror? Yes. Vacation destination? Not so much.”

“Norway used to be my top choice for expat escape fantasies. It consistently ranks number one in the world for overall quality of life.”

“Have you been there?”

“Of course not. That’s what makes it the ideal escape fantasy. I don’t know enough about it to be discouraged by the imperfections.”

“Like how it’s dark, like, half the year?”

“A quarter. Between November and January. But who minds staying inside in the dark for three months when all the women look like Britt Ekland and all the men look like Dolph Lundgren?”

“Wooooooow. College has done wonders for you, Marcus.”

“How so?”

“You’re far better equipped to drop inane pop culture references than you were three years ago. Nice work with the Ivan Drago reference.”

“Hey, I figure lowbrow is my only way to go. How can I possibly compete with someone who oh-so-casually name-checks Jacques Lacan, Oliver Sacks, and Lord Byron?”

“Aha! So you do know what a Lacanian theorist is!”

“Er, yes.”

“You don’t need to be so modest, Marcus. And I’ll bet you watched Rocky IV in a senior seminar at Princeton.”

“How did you know? Popcorn Flicks and Hollywood’s Promotion of Cold War Stereotypes in Reagan-Era America. I got an A.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did. Ha. Unfortunately, any points gained for creativity are deducted for accuracy because Dolph Lundgren isn’t Norwegian.”

“What?”

“He’s a Swede, Marcus. And for the record, so is Britt Ekland.”

“They are?”

“Definitely. But it’s okay. You can blame Byron for the error.”

“I will, thank you. Damn you, Byron! And I suppose you know from Swedes from all those years living in the former bowling alley.”

“I still live in the former bowling alley of the Swedish American Men’s Athletic Club. And yes, it has made me an expert in Swedish trivia.”

“I thought you had to move out after a year.”

“We were supposed to leave when Manda’s aunt returned from Europe with her family. She’s on the lease but hasn’t come back to the U.S., so we’re still there.”

“You still live with Manda?”

[Cough.] “Oh, no, no, no. I haven’t talked to Manda in, uh, ages … [Cough.] A very long time. I actually see more of Sara and Scotty—you know they got married, right?”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, they did. After Destino and before the twins, Donatella and Dolce.”

“Donatella and Dolce?”

“Named after the designers, of course.”

“They’ve got three kids?”

“Oh yeah, and a long list of D-names for hypothetical fertilizations, divided by categories.”

“Categories?”

“The actor D-names, like Demi and Denzel. The sports-page D-names, like Deion and Danica. The stripper D-names, like Diamond and Desire. The stripper D-names that are also cities, like Dallas and Dakota.”

“Dakota isn’t a city.”

“Um, I know that. But you try interrupting Sara when she’s babbling about her brood. It’s impossible. And because her family is all she ever talks about, it makes it very easy to uphold my side of the conversation.”

“So you see them a lot?”

“I’ve seen Scotty once or twice since their wedding. He works for Sara’s dad in