“No.”

“You mean you’re not planning on making me proud by becoming a high-school dropout? I mean, it’s what we’ve worked so hard for, isn’t it, Dingus?”

“Who said anything about not going to college? And I wouldn’t dream of dropping out of school.”

“Are you going to take Jade and the baby with you?”

“If I have to, yes.”

“This is sweet. What about her parents? How do they feel about this? I betcha her father won’t have to search for a topic for this Sunday’s sermon, you think?”

“They don’t know yet.”

I slap him upside his head so hard it stings my hand. “Oh, but they will. And you’re going over there first thing tomorrow morning to tell them.”

“Ma, will you come with me?”

“Not this time, buddy. You’re on your own. Wait. I forgot. Ask your father for advice, since you two are so chummy-chummy these days.”

“I don’t know if I trust his judgment all that much.”

“Really? And why is that?”

“He’s kind of phony and too hung up on his image.”

“Surprise, surprise. Well, whatever you and your in-laws decide to do, I’ll just go along with the program. Especially since you and the missus already have it all figured out. Good night.”

“Ma, don’t leave! I don’t know what to say to her mother, and especially her dad. Help me out here.”

“You should’ve thought about that when you didn’t slide that condom on. Sleep tight, Dingus.”

I slam the door behind me. I’d like to strangle his stupid ass right now. Like to knock every single one of those trophies off the shelves and throw them out the window so they land in the trash, because I wonder if he’ll be reminded where he was headed while he’s changing Pampers, searching through the classifieds for a job that pays more than minimum wage, and trying to watch Monday Night Football all at the same time?

In the morning, I’m surprised I don’t have the shakes like alcoholics get when they can’t get a drink. But I don’t. When I check to make sure Dingus is up, he’s already gone. I decide to do exactly what I’d planned to do today, before I found out I might be a grandmother. And I’ll do it without pills.

I’m going to walk that reservoir in Lafayette, which is about three miles around, I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to a place to detoxify my body. A year ago, one of my clients gave me a gift certificate for a week at a luxury spa in Arizona that they swear is like ordering room service for the soul. They go twice a year to regroup, to clean out their bodies and minds, but mostly to prevent what they call “major burnout.” I’ve read the brochure at least a hundred times but never felt like I deserved or earned the right to blow off an entire week doing nothing. But, then again, I’ve never felt a need to learn how to manage the pressures of daily living until now. Never thought I could get any real benefits doing yoga or tai chi or even meditation. Never knew I needed to be still. Never knew I didn’t know how. I’ve never even heard of the term “mindful” before, but I like the idea of living in the present instead of always projecting and stressing about tomorrow or next year. And the thought of having my body polished and scrubbed and wrapped in seaweed or soaking in a tub of hot water with 109 jets going, sounds almost too good to be true. I would certainly be willing to try a deep-tissue or hot-stone or cranial-sacral massage.