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My dad is waiting by the front door and side hugs me and follows me to the kitchen, and proceeds to start putting away the contents of the shopping bags.
“Get over here and let me get a good look at ya,” she says, tugging on my arm to turn around. “Tell me you aren’t eating out every night up there.”
“No, ma. Either I cook or Heidi does.”
Her eyebrow arches.
“Just my housekeeper.”
She wants me to get married and have babies, but I don’t know if kids are what I want. I’ve worked my ass off to build the company so that I can retire and travel the world without any financial burdens setting me back and having kids would put all that on hold for another two decades. My mother doesn’t realize that most women want kids, so finding one that doesn’t is like a needle in a haystack around here. Especially, in Dallas. The women want to get pregnant so that if you don’t marry them, you can pay them a large amount of child support, and they won’t have to work a day in their lives. Selfish, but totally true.
“I’m telling you; my death is going to come before this son of mine giving me grandchildren or a daughter-in-law.”
“Leave the boy alone. He’s got too much on his plate right now to worry about finding a woman to nag him all day,” my dad replies.
They crack me up. He isn’t being serious about having a wife that nags him, because honestly, they are perfect for each other. They are so similar, yet opposite at the same time. In my entire lifetime, I’ve maybe seen them have a fight four or five times.
My mother opens up the crockpot and stirs it around. A pork tenderloin with garlic and herb seasoning with new potatoes and baby carrots. She knows the way to my heart. The aroma nips at my nostrils, and suddenly my stomach is growling like I didn’t just eat breakfast with Angela.
One thing you don’t do is turn down my mother’s cooking, ever. If you want to offend her, that’s the easiest way to do it. She makes three plates and sets them down on the table. I don’t even question it, just sit down next to my father and start shoveling it into my mouth. It’s not every day I get to savor my mother’s cooking.
Instead of being engaged in lunch with my parents, I find myself daydreaming about being on that couch with Angela. It isn’t every day that I get a break from working twelve hours or more. Thinking about what my life might be like after we sell the company to the highest bidder is difficult. The first thing I want to do is go to Spain. It’s on my bucket list, and so I want to tick it off at the beginning.
My mother gets up from the table and comes back with a box. “This is for you. I know you said you didn’t need anything, but oh well.”
I shake my head, but open it to appease her. Inside is something that I always wanted, but never got when I was a kid. A lava lamp.
“I saw it in the store the other day and remembered you used to beg me to get you one.”
This makes me laugh. What is a grown man supposed to do with this? God, I love her.
“Well since we are exchanging gifts…. My gift isn’t physical, but you now completely own the house. No more payments.”
They worked their asses off to keep this roof over my head, and they shouldn’t have to spend the next ten years trying to pay it off. Not when they have a son that makes the kind of meaningless money I do.
“What? No. We can’t accept that,” my dad says, standing up from the table.
“Too bad. It’s already done, no refunds.” That’s when I see the tears in his eyes, but he’s trying to hide his face. “You did everything for me. I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am today without you guys. Just take the money you would have spent on the house and take a vacation. It’s been years since you guys got away from here. Go on a cruise or something.”
He wraps his arms around me and then my mother follows suit.
They deserve everything. Without them, I wouldn’t have been able to go to college and learn all the information to start the company in the first place. I owe them for all my success.
