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Why, oh why, did I say that? I just know she’ll pull out some muumuu with a horrific pattern from the ’80s.
“I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She darts out of the room, leaving me alone with my almost finished stack of pancakes.
Knowing Haden will be here soon, I use the moment to relax and read the local paper. Nothing much has changed, a few new marriages and births, but as usual, the town carries on without much excitement. There is a whole page about a carnival coming in for the night. Sounds like fun, if you’re ten.
My mom is talking to herself again, carrying some boxes down the stairs. The sound of an engine pulls up at the house, and I look at my mom to see her reaction. She has her stern parental face on and dad is walking down the stairs with his rifle in hand. Alright, he doesn’t and that’s a bit overboard, but I do know he has a pocketknife ready.
I wipe my mouth with the napkin and make my way to the porch. I hear the sound of the trunk shutting closed and behind it, Haden appears. That stupid flutter, the one that gets all my panties in a twist, makes another appearance, and with every fiber of my being I’m trying to ignore how gorgeous he looks in his natural-colored denim shorts, light grey tee, and a pair of Chucks. My damn weakness. Jason hated them; he called them skater shoes. Jason also wore Jesus sandals.
For someone who just traveled on a plane, he looks refreshed, his hair perfectly styled to the side and a freshly shaven face. With a warm smile he greets me, fully aware that my parents are standing right behind me.
“Mr. and Mrs. Malone, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He reaches out his hand, but my mom embraces him instead. What the hell? What happened to this lecture on how utterly disappointed she was that such a young man would be irresponsible enough to have sex with an older woman and, if his parents didn’t teach him to have any morals, then maybe she should?
What a load of BS from the woman smiling and acting all friendly with him!
My dad, on the other hand . . . well, his face says it all.
“So you’re the one that knocked up my Poodle?”
Haden pulls away from my mom and looks at me confused. “Um, I like women, sir. I’m not into bestiality.”
“He means me,” I complain. “Dad has called me Poodle since forever. You know, ’cause of my curly hair.”
“Oh . . . right, I get it. I guess I am the one that knocked up your Poodle then,” he says, amused.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“George, please. Let the boy at least place his bags down before you get all wound up.” My mom ushers him into the house, asking him how his trip went and if wants a drink.
My dad, on the other hand, pulls me aside. “Jesus, Poodle, is he still in college?”
“Dad!” I groan. “He’s twenty-six.”
“Back in my day, you didn’t marry women older than you.”
“Oh my god.” I stop him, raising my palm to his face. “Who the hell is talking about marriage here?”
“I just assumed because the two of you are single—”
“He’s not single. Have you not listened to mom at all?”
“I try not to. It’s what happens when you’ve been married for forty years. You tend to zone out. Your mother could talk a glass eye to sleep,” he says, scratching his belly.
I ignore his ramblings and move on inside to join them in the kitchen. Mom has stacked
a plate of pancakes in front of Haden. Looking quite pleased with his hefty appetite, she pours him some coffee and I nearly grab the cup from him.
God, I miss it so much.
“Your sister will be arriving this afternoon, with her friend Melissa,” Mom tells us.
“My sister is a lesbian,” I mention causally to Haden.
“Presley Victoria Malone!” Mom scolds.
“Well it’s the truth, Deidre,” Dad says with a mouthful of toast. “God gives ya what He gives ya. Gemma is a good girl.”
“So you’re saying I’m not?”
