“I’d like to bring Jeana over for a few minutes after church. Would that be all right?” I answered.
“Oh, that would be lovely. What do you think she would like for dinner? Maybe I can see if your aunts and uncles can come over, too…” Mom started rattling on, planning our engagement party.
“No, Mom, nothing like that. We won’t be coming for dinner. She just asked and I offered to bring her over. We’ll be there maybe an hour, tops. No family, Mom.”
“But Carl…” she protested.
“No, Mom. And one other thing. If Ham isn’t on his best behavior, and I mean good enough for the White House, we’ll never be back.”
“Don’t you dare threaten me!”
“Best behavior, Mom!”
We said good-bye after that. All in all it was a strange and strained conversation. I decided to call Dad at his office tomorrow. At least he wasn’t going to try and tell me how I misunderstood my brother.
I asked Jeana the next morning if she wanted to come over to my place on Sunday for dinner. She gave me a funny look and said, “I thought you didn’t live at home anymore.”
I returned her funny look. “I don’t. Why?”
“Then who’s making dinner?”
“Well, I am, of course. Anything in particular you’d like?”
“You cook!?” she asked, astonished.
I gave her a peeved look. “Yes, I cook! I’ll have you know I took two years of home ec at Towsontown Junior High! I was an honors graduate of their fine dining tradition!”
She started laughing at me. “I don’t know what’s funnier, that you can cook or that you took home ec. You really took home economics?”
I held my hand up and made the Scout Sign. “Would I lie? What do you want me to make?”
“Me?”
“Tell me what you want and I’ll make it.”
“You’re serious?” she asked. I nodded. “Pheasant under glass!”
I smiled. “Too many leftovers. And no glass. But I could do a chicken or small turkey.”
“God, no! We just had a turkey! You’re actually serious about cooking, aren’t you?” she said.
“I am. I am quite competent in the kitchen. I gather your father doesn’t do much in the kitchen?”
“Daddy can’t get his own ice cubes!”
I laughed at that. God knows I’ve seen many men like that. Some women, too. I married one. “Do you like seafood?”
Her eyes lit up. “I love seafood!”
“How about shrimp scampi over noodles, with garlic bread on the side, and perhaps some white wine, a nice Pinot Grigio for example.”
“For real?”
“Trust me on this. It will be delicious,” I assured her.
“Okay, you’re on, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Trust me!”
“Make sure you have some hamburger thawed out, just in case!” She kissed me and went off to class.
This was really a no-brainer for a guy, any guy. If you pull it off, you look like a suave and sophisticated man of the world. If you fumble it, you look like you tried and she gets to rescue you. There is no downside. I wasn’t going to fumble it, either. This was a family favorite that I learned from my mother. Aside from the shrimp, it is fairly inexpensive. I had already copied the recipe before I moved out. I had everything, including the wine, by Friday afternoon.
I traded off Sunday hours for a Saturday afternoon shift at the pizzeria. That evening I told her I was making the weekend all about her. Jeana’s eyes lit up. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. This is your weekend. Tonight, pick out whatever movie you want, no matter how much of a girlie movie it is, and tomorrow I cook for you.”
“I still can’t believe you’re cooking for me. My friends will never believe it!”
I smiled. “Just don’t tell them I’m cooking for you at my apartment. Tell them I’m doing the cooking over at ‘his house’ and imply my parents were there.”
“So nobody knows you have an apartment.”
“And so none of your girlfriends decide to check out what is obviously a good thing by coming over for their own cooking lessons!” I laughed at her and leaned down to kiss her, squelching her return remarks.
Jeana stuck her tongue out at me. “Just for that, I’m picking out a movie you are going to hate!” I did, too. It was the last weekend The Last Picture Show was playing. We were still a week or two away from the releases of Dirty Harry and Diamonds Are Forever. I promised retribution.
Jeana had asked what to wear to my parents’ to meet them. I had suggested something simple yet sophisticated looking, like a fancy blouse and black slacks. She told me she had both, and I figured that with her trademark high heels she would look elegant and older that she was.
I was right, too. Jeana wore a long sleeved cream colored fitted silk blouse with a high collar, high waisted tight black slacks, and black pumps. She wore just a trace of makeup, and kept her hair tied back with a simple black ribbon. I picked her up shortly after noon, and told her, “You look gorgeous.”
“Is this all right?” she asked nervously.
“Perfect. My mother will love you!”
We made our escape, after promising I would bring her home that evening after supper, although I did say that wouldn’t be until eight or maybe nine. Her parents didn’t care; why should they, I was taking their daughter to meet my parents, not off to my bachelor love shack!
It was somewhat weird sitting in the living room with my parents like guests. They spent several minutes talking to Jeana and asking her the standard questions, like where did she live and what did her parents do. Nana was introduced, but promptly went to her room to lie down. Daisy came bounding up, so I got down on the floor to play with her, and then Suzie bounced through and was very amusing, even asking the question no one dared to ask, which was whether we were going over to my apartment later. I finessed that and said we weren’t really sure, we were going out to dinner. (Yes — out to dinner at the apartment. Not exactly a lie.) Then Suzie was off, followed by Daisy, who had quickly found a new master. Hamilton even made an entrance, although both he and I noticed that our father was watching him like a hawk. He was sent off as quickly as possible. Everybody glossed over the fact that I didn’t want to live there anymore.
All in all, a decidedly awkward afternoon, for all involved.
After about an hour, I figured we had done our duty, and Jeana had met the family. I nudged her tastefully and silently tapped my watch. She nodded and I mentioned that we had to be going, and stood up. Jeana popped up like a little marionette, and despite some pro forma complaints from my mother, we made our escape.
Jeana spoke up first. “You have a very nice family.”
“Thank you. Would you like them? Think of it as the Christmas present that keeps on giving.”
She snorted and laughed. “That’s all right. I already have one of my own.”
“Maybe we can swap. That way you can end up as crazy as I am.”
“They’re not that bad! I think you’re being kind of hard on them.”
I sighed at that. “Yes — and no. You’re right, they’re not that bad. Dad’s okay. Suzie’s a little doll. Nana’s okay but more than a bit flaky these days. I think they’re trying to put her in a home. Even Mom isn’t bad, in a snooty, fancy sort of way. The problem is my brother, who is just totally off the fucking wall batshit crazy and out of control. He drives people away and makes them just as crazy as he is. I just hope Suzie can escape before he drives her around the bend as well.” Before, she had escaped, but he hadn’t been as bad then. Now I wondered.
We got to the apartment and I let Jeana in. Her first comment was, “You’ve done something with the place! It looks different!”