“Face facts, Paul. It’s just a matter of time for all of us.”
“Well aren’t you Suzy Sunshine.”
She shrugs. “I’m a realist. Life is hard and then you die.”
If she keeps going on like this, I’m going to need a stiff drink. It occurs to me that the night she spent helping Elle probably only supported her bleak outlook.
I’m about to change the subject when the front door opens and Patrick steps in with a shit-eating grin on his face. He’s followed by a woman in a long gauze skirt and Birkenstocks. He takes her hand and leads her into the living room.
I have to focus on not letting my mouth gape open. Apparently what we have here is the perfect example of the saying that opposites attract.
“Umm, Paul, Trisha, I’d like you to meet Skye,” Patrick says.
I glance at the girl and then back at Patrick. Who is this Patrick? How could he look so different in just a month? His hair is longer and messy like he just had wild sex and finally got out of bed. Holy hell! What if he did? Clearly the S-E-X agrees with him—he looks great. I decide not to chide him about the African print shirt he’s wearing . . . at least for now. Instead I focus on Skye.
“Hi, I’m Paul.” I reach out to shake her hand and notice she has that henna stuff painted from the top of her hand all the way up to her elbow.
“Hi, Paul.”
She doesn’t seem to have any make-up on and her wavy hair falls almost to her waist. What do you bet that she doesn’t shave her armpits? That’s just not okay in my book, but unless she starts wearing tank tops when she’s around us, it’s not my problem.
Trisha clears her throat. “I’m the sister, Trisha.”
As they shake hands, Skye nods. “Yes, I’ve heard all about you.”
Heard about Trisha? Been warned about Trisha is probably more like it.
Trisha gives Patrick a dubious look.
Skye addresses Trisha again. “Hey, your husband’s a floral designer, right? That’s so awesome. I work in a flower shop in Silver Lake.”
Trisha seems pleased that someone finally refers to Mikey with some regard. “Yes, his shop is in Burbank. He does a lot of work for the studios.”
“Cool,” Skye replies before leaning into Patrick. He wraps his arm around her waist.
“Let’s go meet Ma and Dad,” he says to her. She nods and gives us a little wave.
“So this is the first time you guys are meeting her? I ask Trisha, wondering how Ma knew she was a hippy.
“Yeah, a couple of weeks ago he showed us her Website that tells about her yearlong trip hitchhiking around Europe.”
“Well that explains why Ma is spooked by the idea of her. So how in the world did those two meet?”
“He was asking questions on some travel blog that she answered. They start having longer conversations and realized they live in the same area. Next thing we know he’s a vegan and won’t wear leather shoes or belts.”
“Vegan? Ma must love that. And how does he keep his pants up?”
“He’s wearing some kind of rope belt. I mean, what the hell is happening to him?”
The high point of dinner is when Dad gets his portion of the casserole Ma baked for our meal. He has a repertoire of about twelve dishes that he prefers for dinner and he immediately discerns that this isn’t one of them. He pokes the goopy pile with his fork. “What the hell is this?”
Ma narrows her eyes and purses her lips. “It’s vegetable casserole.”
Dad keeps pushing the lumps around. “Where’s the beef?”
“There isn’t any.”
“We aren’t poor, woman! This isn’t the potato famine. I need my meat.”
Patrick squares his shoulders. “Dad, Ma knows that you like your meat. But she made this especially for me and Skye. We’re vegans.”
“What’s a vegan?” Dad asks.
“We don’t eat any form of animal products,” Skye explains.
His brows knit together. “No meat? You eat milk and cheese though, right?”
Patrick shakes his head. “Nope. Milk and cheese are animal products, Dad. ”
Dad turns to Trisha, and whispers. Since I’m next to them I can hear their conversation. “Is this a cult? Do we need to be worried?”
“No. It’s not a cult, although it may as well be.”
“There are several vegans at my work,” I say trying to lighten the mood.
Trisha nods and turns to Patrick. “Between vegans and gluten-free people, you guys are trying to take over our food chain. It may just be an L.A. thing but half of the selections in my favorite bakery are now vegan or gluten free. What the hell?”
Patrick jumps in. “It’s healthy. And Dad, you’re trying to cut down on your cholesterol. Eating vegan is a great way to go.”
“I don’t think so,” he replies as he pushes his plate away.
Trisha rolls her eyes, Ma growls, and I try a bit of the grub. I may not like it but I’m relieved that I don’t gag.
Skye looks nonplussed.
I turn toward her. “Sorry, we’re not trying to be rude, but we’re kind of traditional with our food.”
She smiles. “That’s okay. I’m used to it. My parents don’t like it either, and Patrick warned me that you guys aren’t vegan.” She turns to Ma. “But I think it’s very sweet that you went to all this trouble for us.”
Ma smiles. Points for Skye . . . obviously she’s clever. I’m sure you can’t survive hitchhiking around Europe without street smarts and people skills.
“I reserved my tux,” I tell Elle the next day on our phone call.
“You got black right?” she asks.
“No, it’s white with an Elvis cape and rhinestones. What do you think? Of course it’s black.”
She laughs. “Thanks for doing that. I bet you cut a fine figure in a tux.”
“Yeah, I look all right. The saleslady that helped me was very enthusiastic. She took her time measuring my inseam.”
“I bet she did. I would’ve too if I were her.”
I imagine Elle on her knees measuring between my legs and I get flustered. My grip on my phone tightens as I try to focus on something else.
“So what are you wearing? I never asked if you were a bridesmaid.”
“No, I’m not because of the awkward situation with my ex being best man. She’s having her sister stand up for her.”
“That’s good. So that means you get to wear whatever you want. Wear something sexy.”
“Is that a command or a request?”
“A little of both,” I admit.
“Hey, I’ve got bad news. I may not be coming home Sunday. Mom’s having a reaction to the medication and I’m taking her to the doctor this afternoon. Depending on what he says, I may have to extend my trip. Thank God she has Internet, at least I’ve been able to keep up with all of my work while taking care of her.”
“No!” I say with more force than intended.
“What? Is something wrong?” she asks.
“It’s just that I miss you.”
“Really? I miss you too.”
“And I’ve been working on our fairytale.”
“Ooo. Are they still in the shower?”
“No, they’ve moved into the bedroom.”
She sighs. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Well, hurry home.”
“I promise I’ll do my best.”
“Oh before I forget, Patrick and his new girlfriend have invited us to a concert.”
Her voice goes up an octave. “His girlfriend? When did this happen?”
“I’m not sure but he’s all in, and it appears that she is, too.”
“What’s her name?”
“Skye.”
“Really? Like clouds in the sky, Skye?”
“Yup, and as Ma pointed out to me privately before they showed up, she’s a hippy. I didn’t really need the explanation. It was evident the second I saw her.”
“Ha! Well that explains the name. I’m looking forward to meeting her. Where are we all going?”
“Some kind of tribal drum performance. She’s turned him into a vegan and everything. The sex must be phenomenal to be willing to stop eating meat for this girl.”
“You know, I’ve got to say, I always suspected your brother had it in him to be wild. He just needed to find the right person to bring it out of him. Sounds like she’s it.”