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“She wants me because I refuse for her to want anything else.”
“You’re a bully.”
“Yes, but I’m learning patience. All the good stuff to make a marriage work.”
Gasping, she mumbles, “You had me until that word.”
“Because you think of me marrying a Toomey. Imagine instead that I’ve met my Christine. Alexis is a feisty gal with bigger dreams than her crappy family offered.”
“Well, my mother is quite remarkable. An absolute jewel in a pile of dog poop.”
“Exactly.”
“But she also ditched her husband and ran off for a brighter tomorrow in that city on the hill.”
“Is Indianapolis on a hill?”
Ma-Poppy pats my hand. “No, it’s quite flat, but I’m painting a picture here.”
“But Christine feared she couldn’t thrive unless she left her hometown. Alexis already did that.”
“Oh, that’s right, she isn’t one of the local Toomey turds.”
Hugging Ma’s soft body against my harder one, I ask, “Give her a chance tonight, will you? Defend her against your sisters and Val and maybe even Tuesday if she decides to start shit out of boredom.”
My ma eyes the TV where our characters get repeatedly shot and respawned. When her blue eyes find me, she sighs deeply and dramatically.
“I will give her a fair shake. But I won’t lie for your benefit, West. You need to know what kind of woman you’re handing your heart.”
“Did you meet Grandma Adriana before marrying Pa?” I ask, thinking of my paternal grandmother, who lives in Charleston.
“Yes.”
“Were you nervous?”
Sighing, she mutters, “I already said I would be nice.”
“But you were lying.”
“Stop knowing me so well and then not knowing me at all and then knowing me too well again. It’s giving me whiplash.”
“Just remember what young Poppy felt when she met her fella’s mom for the first time. Now, imagine if that sweet chick didn’t have her family to defend her if Grandma turned out to be a bitch.”
“I’m not a bitch.”
“Now, you’re just blowing smoke out of your fine ass,” I taunt and grab the controller. “Let’s play a match for real before I go to work.”
Unable to say no to a game with her boy, Ma-Poppy stops pouting and reaches for her controller.
“If we hurry, we can still beat the bots,” she tells me before adding in a quieter voice, “And I won’t make baked beans for dinner.”
“Thank you,” I reply and then shoot her. “You’re not sixty.”
My ma forgets all about dinner as she does her darndest to kick my ass in the game while also pulling up her kill numbers to beat the bots. I can’t deny she’s more talented than I am. But then again, she was playing video games before she even met my pa and started popping out babies.
As I finish up the game, I get the weirdest out-of-body experience. I see Alexis sitting like this one day with our adult kid. By then, our house will be long past new. In my vision of the future, I’m running the club. My own son is hoping I’ll retire early so he can take my shit. Alexis feels as comfortable here as I do. That future feels so fricking real.
And it all starts tonight with our first family dinner.
