Page 17 of The Fast Lane
Note to self:
Go over boundaries with Mom again.
And again.
And yet again, just to be sure.
Friday, nine days until the wedding
“Oh, wait a minute,” my mom said after she recounted the boxes she’d made my father and Theo stack in the back of Theo’s SUV. “I think I’m missing the two boxes of centerpiece candles.”
My father gave a long-suffering sigh and ran a hand over his shiny bald head. “Stephy, how in the hell can you have this much stuff? It’s one wedding.”
“Excuse me, Eli. This is our baby boy getting married. It’s only the most important day of our lives.”
Mom’s knack for hyperbole was renowned. In fact, if hyperbole was a person, my mother would win the Ms. Hyperbole USA Pageant hands down.
“Not even the birth of your children,” I murmured. “Wow.”
From his spot across from me, Theo lowered his head and adjusted his baseball cap. I didn’t miss his smile.
“Well, of course, the birth of my children was important.” Mom fussed with her short blonde hair, looking only slightly embarrassed. “I just meant this wedding is a very special occasion and I’ve spent months making these things because I want everything to be perfect.”
Dad ground his teeth together. “Woman, this wedding can’t come soon enough.”
Mom put her hands on her hips. “What does that mean?”
With a sigh, I crossed my arms and rested a hip on the tailgate of Theo’s SUV. I knew where this was headed. Theo’s eyes found mine.
Here we go, he mouthed.
I rolled my eyes. Of course.
Dad arched one dark eyebrow. “You’ve lost your ever-lovin’ mind is what it means. We haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a month. You haven’t been to bed before one in weeks and our house looks like a craft store and a wedding cake had a baby, a real ugly baby.”
Theo shook his head, visibly biting back a laugh. Uh-oh.
“Well, excuse me, O Great and Mighty Man of the House. I’m so sorry I haven’t been pampering you like a good little wife should.”
I made a tick mark in the air. Point goes to Mom.
“Where’s this damn box?” Dad roared.
“In the craft room,” Mom yelled right back.
“Theo,” Dad barked, glaring at my mother.
Theo snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.”
“Come help me.” Dad stomped off. Theo shot me an amused look before following my dad into the house.
My parents had been married for thirty-six years and for as long as I could remember, they drove each other crazy, but not in a way I ever thought they didn’t love each other. They bickered in love. Once when I was eight and a boy in my class announced his parents fought all the time and so they were getting a divorce, I’d gone home in tears, certain my parents would be next.
Mom had explained all couples communicated differently, but that she loved my father very much. She and Daddy enjoyed sharing their feelings loudly. “Although, the best part is making up after. You should be thanking us. The reason all you kids exist is because of our yelling.”
Eight-year-old me hadn’t understood that. Thankfully.
While they did enjoy an argument, I’d also seen them weather tragedy and hardships and do it together. They were a good team when they had a common enemy.