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If they weren’t here, I’d strip off my clothes in front of Art and let the chips fall where they may.
Sometime into Act 3, Art gets a text. He reads it and frowns.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He lowers the phone. “That was our event organizer. The latest weather forecast has a thirty percent chance of rain, so the folks at the Botanical Garden are placing tented gazebos over all the tables. They need us to sign off on it.”
I feel a pang of guilt. My oversensitive nose is why the reception is happening outdoors.
I check the time. It’s four-thirty. My parents will probably be thinking about dinner soon.
“Should we go check it out?” I ask Art.
He nods.
I turn to Mom and Dad. “You guys want to come with?”
Mom shakes her head. “You guys go.”
My guilt deepens. I’m glad they’re not coming. I could use a break from steering conversations into safe waters.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay here on your own?” Art asks.
“Go,” Dad says. “We can watch another movie in the meantime.”
“Should we wait for you for dinner?” Mom asks.
“No,” I say. “I know you guys will want to eat soon. Just order something. We’ll most likely grab a bite on the way.”
“Sounds good,” Dad says. “When do you think you’ll be back?”
Art checks his phone. “Shouldn’t be longer than a couple of hours.”
“Okay.” Mom gives Dad a meaningful glance. “We’ll get some sushi.” She turns to Art. “Do you have a takeout menu?”
Before I can tell Mom about this cool invention called Google, Art produces a paper menu from a drawer in the kitchen.
“We should go,” he says to me after handing it to my mom.
I leap to my feet. “Let’s.”
* * *
“Do you mind if I check on my portfolio?” Art asks as we get into the cab.
“Of course not.”
He pulls out his phone, and I start a group text with all my sisters to let them know about the parental situation. Thanks to skunking autocorrect, the text actually says:
Knight-errants are bricklaying with me and Art. Go ahead and enjoy schadenfreude.
Seriously, autocorrect? You mess up “parents” but not “schadenfreude?”
Blue is the first to reply with an LOL.
Your turn will come, I text. Prepare for lunches and/or dinners.
Keep them away from peanut butter, Olive texts and adds a puking face emoji.
