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“No humping at the dinner table,” Edith admonishes when I glue Oana to my body. “You know the rule.”
“OG Peepaw humped his ex-wife plenty during last Thanksgiving.”
“Fine,” Edith says and sighs. “When you’re a hundred years old, you can hump during dinner. Not a year before, though.”
“Deal. Now, kissing doesn’t count as humping, so back off, moral majority.”
Edith gasps and snarls at me. “Don’t accuse me of being a prude. I’m fully cool with sex stuff.”
When our parents share a disapproving look, Edith grunts at their judgement. “I’m twenty-six. I’m allowed to talk about allowing a dong to enter my sacred honeycomb.”
Rolling my eyes at my sister spitting sass when she doesn’t have Tuesday to compete with, I glance at Oana. My woman grins at me, clearly thinking of me inside her sacred honeycomb.
“Not that I have any problems with listening to my children talk about getting laid,” Pa-Donovan says and grins at his wife. “But let’s change the subject for now. Oana, have you spoken to your parents since ditching them at the Cracker Barrel?”
“No. They won’t even try to understand.”
Pa-Donovan frowns. “Because Ike’s a member of the club?”
“Yes, but also, I’m supposed to marry Jarin.”
Ma-Journey narrows her eyes and gets her panties in a twist. “Did you agreed to marry him?”
“No, I was going to live in the woods like your hermit peepaw.”
While Pa-Donovan grins at this thought, my ma doesn’t take the bait. “But this Jarin didn’t know you were planning to ditch him?”
“He never really spoke to me. I was like a purchase he was making,” Oana says and then looks at me. “It wasn’t magic like with Ike.”
“Your parents were selling you off?” Edith asks, giving Oana a dirty look.
“Oana’s family sucks,” I announce. “Just in case that wasn’t obvious from their behavior around town.”
“I’m sorry,” Oana mumbles, taking Edith’s snarly face too personally.
“You didn’t make them that way,” I reply and kiss her forehead. “I think the lack of rock music and cheese probably broke them.”
“Sounds about right,” Pa-Donovan says and gives his woman a “chill out” look from across the table.
Ma-Journey sighs and nods. Edith isn’t so sure about digging the bug out of her own ass.
“What other sinning do you do?” my sister asks, crossing her arms as if this is an interrogation.
“Besides the rock music and loving Ike?”
“Yeah.”
“I want to cut my hair.”
Edith and Ma-Journey share a look before my sister returns her bitchy gaze to Oana.
“And?”
“I want to wear jeans,” Oana says and then bounces a little in her seat. “I want to wear makeup. Tuesday is going to show me how to do eyeshadow.”
“I’ll do that,” Edith insists and finally starts eating. “She’ll make you look like a hooker.”
Oana nods appreciatively as if Edith isn’t being obnoxious. My dream girl is so desperate to fit in somewhere. I suspect she’d put up with any amount of my family’s garbage just to avoid her own family’s garbage.
