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“Elsa?” Mom calls, impatient. “Harvey is he-ere!”
I’m very nervous right now, but I guess I can use it to play the role. A bride-to-be would be nervous upon meeting her fiancé’s family for the first time, right?
As long as it doesn’t turn into an all-out panic attack.
Taking a big gulp of water — for courage — I leave the dirty cup on the counter and head back to the living room, where mom is clinging to Harvey’s arm and grinning from ear to ear.
He’s looking good, his blue eyes glinting, but I still roll my eyes at his goofy grin.
As unimpressed as ever, dad doesn’t even stand from his chair.
“John, come here to say hi!” mom insists.
Dad just waves her off. “He’s young, has two legs, and I have a bad back. He can come here!” he says, not moving his eyes from the morning news.
“I like you, John. You know what you want.” Harvey leaves mom’s side and goes to greet my father.
Dad seems pleased with his handshake.
“I’m sorry nobody here knows who you are, son, but we’re a basketball family,” dad says, to which Harvey snickers.
“Hello, Elsa,” he says, his voice suddenly seductive and I force myself not to roll my eyes.
“Ready to go?”
“U-hum. My luggage is by the door.” I go kiss mom and dad goodbye and keep on waiting for him to haul it to the car.
After several excruciating seconds where he just stares at me, he finally puts two and two together and takes the suitcase by the handle.
“Heavy!” he says as we cross the lawn and get to the sidewalk.
“Oh, you take hockey pucks to the face for a living. You can handle it!” I retort, and he laughs like a schoolboy.
Today he is driving an enormous pickup truck, silver with black trimmings, with an extended cabin and a faint smell of gas to let me know this monstrosity is a guzzler like none other.
He places my luggage under the bed’s covering, closes the tailgate, then unlocks the truck with the key fob and orders, “Come on in.”
I nod, then climb up into the passenger seat. The insides of the truck are clean and have that entrancing new car smell, so either this truck is brand new, or he just had it cleaned to impress me.
“It’s this truck new?” I ask as he turns on the engine.
“Yes,” he says with a nod, backing away from the curb. “Just got it today.”
“Oh,” I say. “Who are you trying to impress?”
He steps on the pedal and looks at me sideways, suspicious of my intentions.
“My brother, my father, my uncles and cousins,” he says, defensive.
“So, every male in the family?” I respond, amused.
“Basically, yeah.” He takes a right turn to get to the highway.
“You know what they say about guys with big trucks, right?” I cross my arms and have some fun at his expense.
“No, what?” It takes him a while, but then he says, “Hey! I can guarantee that’s not true!”
I start to giggle, covering my mouth with my hand.
