Dear George Clooney: Please Marry My Mom by Susin Nielsen Page B

fell into a deep sleep.
    I woke around 3:00 a.m. with serious stomach cramps. I burped and it tasted like acid and vanilla, a truly nasty combination.
    I stumbled out of bed and hurried down the hall to the bathroom. My eyes were only half-open, so I didn’t see him till the last second. He was coming from the other direction, also heading to the bathroom.
    Dudley.
    Naked
Dudley.
    Well, almost naked – he was wearing underpants,
thank you, God.
    I screamed.
    He screamed.
    And I tried not to look, I really did, but his blinding white flesh was right there in front of me, and I couldn’t help but notice his moobs, his flabby stomach, and his hairy legs, which were too skinny for the rest of his body.
    Mom came running out of her bedroom, a robe wrapped around her.
    “Omigod, Violet, I’m sorry. I should have told you Dudley might stay over.”
    “Violet, I – I –” Dudley stuttered.
    I didn’t wait to hear any more. I pushed past the two of them and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
    Then I proceeded to barf up every single one of those vanilla cream chocolates.

— 15 —
    T hanks to the severe trauma I’d suffered, I didn’t manage to fall back to sleep until 5:00 a.m. It was eleven the next morning when I finally woke up.
    I got out of my pajamas and slipped on yesterday’s clothes. I didn’t want to go downstairs. Even though I was pretty sure The Wiener would be long gone by now, I knew I was destined for one of Mom’s talks.
    I was half-right. When I got downstairs, I found Rosie in the living room, snuggled up to Dudley while he read her
Stanley’s Party,
one of her favorite books. I couldn’t even look at him.
    “Where’s Mom?”
    “She’s having a shower,” Dudley replied, and he blushed.
    Good,
I thought.
You should be embarrassed! You should also buy some new underpants and a gym membership!
    “Rosie, where’s Mom?” I asked, ignoring Dudley.
    “Dudley just said. She’s having a shower.” Then she looked up at Dudley with big adoring eyes. “Keep reading.”
    “You can read later, Rosie. Let’s go to Liberty Bakery and get some treats.”
    “Too late. Me and Dudley already went,” she replied.
    My insides felt sour. “But I always go with you.”
    “You was sleeping,” she said simply.
    “We brought you back a monster-sized scone. And Ingrid made a big fruit salad. I’ll get a plate ready for you,” said Dudley, starting to get up.
    “I’m not hungry,” I said, even though my stomach was growling loud enough for them to hear.
    “I wanted to mention …” Dudley continued, and for one horrified moment, I thought he was going to bring up the traumatizing events of last night, “… if you ever need help with your math homework, I’m a bit of a whiz….”
    I gave him the hairy eyeball, which shut him up. Mom entered the living room a moment later, dressed for the day, her hair freshly washed.
    “Good. You’re up. Why don’t you come into the kitchen with me for a moment?”
    Sigh.
    I shuffled into the kitchen behind her. Mom poured herself a cup of coffee. I leaned against the counter.
    “I want to apologize again, Violet. I should have told you Dudley might stay over.”
    “Yes. You should have.”
    “The truth is, it took us by surprise, too.”
    Ew.
“Yeah, well. Don’t let it happen again,” I said. There was a pause. “I can’t promise that –” Suddenly a sound reverberated through the house –a sound I hadn’t heard in over a year.
    “The doorbell’s working,” I said.
    My mom smiled. “Dudley fixed it this morning.”
    From where I stood, I could see Dudley as he answered the door.
Our
door. It was some guy from Greenpeace, and Dudley started chatting to him about climate change. Rosie ran to join him. She leaned into him and wrapped her little arms around his leg, as if she was afraid that if she didn’t, he’d leave and never come back.
    “He’s going to fix the washing machine next,” Mom continued. “Apparently it just