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“Yeah, true,” she nodded, as she fished around the bowl for the last popped kernels. “Want to watch another one?”
“Sure, why not?” I agreed, as she fished out another oldie and we began watching Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal annoy each other as they drove across the country together.
The couch was warm and comfortable. I pulled a quilt off the back of it and wrapped myself in it, and before I knew it, I was sound asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Blake
After a quiet night at the station, Tony and I were ready to head out. He was moaning about not getting enough sex again, and I had grown weary of his complaints.
“Tony, my friend, have you ever considered that maybe your wife is overworked and underappreciated?” I asked, as he prepared to launch into a soliloquy about the meaning of marriage.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he shot back. “She’s completely appreciated! I take care of the cars and the house, I shovel the walk, I work a good job and pay the bills, and I make sure that she has a pretty piece of jewelry for every possible occasion. How on earth could she not feel appreciated?”
“Sometimes you’re such an ass,” I said, shaking my head.
“What? What did I do now?” he asked, throwing his hands up.
“Tony, women need more than to have their maintenance needs met,” I said, trying to explain for the thousandth time. “If upkeep on the house was all she needed, she could hire someone to do that. What she needs from you is to share the damn load, you idiot.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tony said angrily.
“I’m talking about asking her how her day went and then actually listening to what she says,” I said, knowing that much of what I was about to say was going to go straight over his head. Tony was a traditional kind of guy, and he didn’t understand that to get what he wanted, he was going to have to put out something. “I’m talking about fixing dinner on the nights she works late or about buying flowers for no reason and packing her a lunch to take to work with her.”
“That’s some fucked up shit you're talking about, B,” Tony said, shaking his head. “My Pops never did that shit for my Ma, and they’re still married.”
“Yeah, but is he getting laid?” I grinned.
“Dude, shut the fuck up; that’s my Ma,” he said, punching me in the shoulder. “Don’t talk about my parents’ sex life; it makes my nuts shrivel up.”
“Fine, don’t listen to me,” I shrugged. “But I’m getting laid, and you are not, my friend. Tell me who has the correct answers here.”
“Fuck off, Gaston,” Tony grinned, as he yanked open the door to his Camero and climbed in. He revved the engine and then flipped me off before shifting into reverse and pulling out of the parking lot at well over the speed limit.
I shrugged and climbed up into the truck. Tony always asked for advice, but he rarely took it. Part of me wondered if things between him and Anita weren’t better than he let on, and that maybe he did take my advice, but didn’t want to let me know that he had. Whatever the case, I was looking forward to heading home and calling Emily to see if she was free tonight.
When I walked in the front door, I was surprised to see Nina in the kitchen cooking breakfast. She put a finger up to her lips and signaled for me to be quiet as she pointed to the living room couch. I looked down and saw Emily still asleep under the Red Sox quilt my grandmother had made for me when I was in college. I smiled, nodded at Nina, and then retreated to my bedroom to shower and change clothes.
When I emerged, Emily was sitting at the table nursing a cup of coffee and rubbing her eyes.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I said, smiling warmly. “You girls had a sleepover, eh?”
“We watched rom-coms until Emily fell asleep,” Nina said, slipping a spatula under a pancake and expertly flipping it over on the griddle. She poured me a cup of coffee and handed it to me as she slid a package of sausages into the frying pan and let them sizzle.
“I guess one and a half movies is my limit,” Emily smiled sleepily. “How was your night?”
“Just the way I like it: uneventful,” I said, as I sipped from my mug. “So, what’s on the agenda for today, ladies?”
“I’m going to make you both breakfast, and then I’m going to go take care of some of the assignments I have to turn in next week,” Nina said, as she moved the sausages around in the pan. “I don’t want to let things get too out of hand while I’m on vacation.”
I shot Emily a questioning look, but she only shrugged and smiled as she watched me start to set the table. I avoided talking about anything school-related as Nina set breakfast down on the table and we began to eat. She chattered about what her friends were doing for New Year’s Eve and made a point of telling me she had no plans.
“Well, ladies,” I began, “tonight there is a big cookout at the station, and I’d love it if you’d both accompany me to the festivities.”
“Are you serious, Dad?” Nina asked, through a mouthful of sausage and pancakes.
“Dead, and close your mouth; it’s gross,” I said, as I shifted my gaze over to Emily, who sat across the table smiling at me.
