by TJ Klune
He grinned at me, making my heart thump a little out of whack in my chest. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to him smiling at me like that. At least, I hoped I wouldn’t. “First guess,” he said. “Right on. Go me.”
I couldn’t even bother to correct him, because I was too busy kissing him instead. It was starting to get a little more heated than it should have, standing in the entryway to my parents’ house, but I couldn’t find a reason to give a shit right then.
“Well,” Nana said from somewhere behind me. “If only Matty and Larry had let me wire the house with multiple video cameras like I wanted to for a pay-per-view show starring me. I’d be raking in the dough right now because of you two. Gay guys doing gay-guy stuff always sells. Look at that Doogie Howser. He’s got a husband and some kids and makes a lot of money. You can’t tell me those two things aren’t related.”
I sighed against Vince’s mouth even as he smiled wider.
I pulled away, reminding myself to pick this up later. “Hi, Nana,” I said. “And I don’t know if gay guys doing gay-guy stuff means the money you think it will. That’s not quite how it works.”
“Please,” Nana said with a snort. “If people will watch women reenacting the time they sat on a toilet and crapped out a baby they didn’t know they were having, they’ll certainly watch you two doing gay-guy stuff.”
“What’s gay-guy stuff?” Vince asked before I could stop him.
“Oh,” Nana said. “You know. Living happily. Having nice taste. Keeping a clean home. Being successful and kind. Hosting classy dinner parties with watercress sandwiches and dry martinis. Living and laughing and loving each other.”
“Aw, Nana,” I said, surprised.
“Also butt stuff,” Nana said. “Lots and lots of butt stuff.”
“And there it is,” I said.
“I don’t know if you can show butt stuff on TV,” Vince said seriously. “Studies show that people are still seriously homophobic in America’s heartland. Religion plays a major role, and while we’ve made great strides, people still fall back on their misguided faith rather than practicality.”
“Whaaat,” Nana said slowly as she stared at him.
I sighed. “The radio in my car got stuck on NPR for the last few days.”
“I’m informed,” Vince said with a grin.
“You know things?” Nana demanded. “I know things too! Did you know that there are significant declines of shellfish in the Chesapeake Bay?”
“I’m a Bernie-bro,” Vince said. “I feel the bern and then tell everyone about it, even when it’s not appropriate to do so.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I muttered, making my way toward the kitchen. As I passed by the living room, I saw Wheels sitting under Johnny Depp’s perch, growling at him, the parrot spitting, “Bad dog, baaaaaaad dog,” down at him. Since Wheels only had two legs, he couldn’t jump and tear Johnny Depp to pieces, much to my chagrin, so I wasn’t worried. Plus, it lightened my soul to hear Johnny Depp sound nervous.
Mom and Dad were in the kitchen, Mom singing along with the radio while she bent over to check something in the oven, and Dad, not one to miss an opportunity, smacking her ass. Which apparently was to her delight, if the way she giggled meant anything.
“My eyes,” I groaned. “It burns. It burns.”
“Oh stop it,” Mom said. “You know that your father and I still enjoy a healthy sex life. We’re all adults here.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek when I sat on a stool at the counter.
“Doesn’t mean I want to see it,” I said. “Or hear about it. Or acknowledge it at all.”
Dad dropped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “We know you and Vince have sexual relations. It’s just the same for us.”
I snorted. “Trust me, you do not have the same sex life that Vince and I do—oh my God, what am I saying? Stop it!”
“Son,” Dad said. “I may not understand what it means to be a pony, but your mother and I aren’t exactly vanilla.”
“Nope,” I said, shoving him off me. “Nope, nope, nope. We’re done. Conversation over. Vince, we’re leaving. Grab Wheels and run.”
“But we just got here,” Vince said as he walked into the kitchen, Nana trailing behind him. “And I’m hungry. Your mom made lasagna. You know how I feel about that.”
“At least someone appreciates the hours and hours I’ve spent slaving away in here,” Mom said, grabbing Vince’s arms and sashaying with him around the kitchen. He laughed as he moved with her, still able to surprise me with the grace of his movements. Mom leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and if it were possible, his smile got even bigger.
“Close your mouth,” Nana whispered in my ear. “You’re about to start drooling, and no one finds that attractive, Paul.”
My teeth clacked together as I snapped my mouth shut.
“Not that we don’t love having you here,” Dad said, watching Mom and Vince dance, “but shouldn’t you guys be going to the club tonight for Helena’s show? You usually don’t come over for dinner on Wednesday.”
Even though I had no reason to be, I was still somewhat nervous. Of course my parents were going to agree to walk us down the aisle, however unorthodox it would be. I didn’t even think it was something we needed to make a big deal about. I was going to call them on the phone to ask them, but Vince had looked rather horrified at the idea, telling me that of course it was a big deal, that we had to do it face-to-face. Maybe I was nervous because he was nervous. Again, he had no reason to be, and I tried valiantly to reassure him of such. Mom and Dad loved him almost as much as they loved me. He was already theirs just like Sandy and Kori were. I didn’t think he quite believed me. But this was Matty and Larry Auster we were dealing with; they’d make sure he knew it before the night was over.
I shrugged. “Her show doesn’t start until nine. Darren and Kori can help her get ready tonight, and we’ll stop by when we’re done.”
Dad watched me curiously. “Everything all right?”
Uh-oh. He knew something was up. Which meant his dad alert was pinging in his head, probably leaping to some foregone conclusion that had no bearing on what we wanted to talk about tonight. It probably didn’t help that every time he looked at me like that, I felt like a little kid who’d done something wrong and was trying to keep him from finding out. This wasn’t going to end well. “Everything’s fine,” I said.
“Paul. Look at me.”
Ugh. I didn’t want to do that at all. But I wasn’t going to let him win. So I forced a smile on my face and met his gaze straight on. “Yeah, Dad?”
He stared at me.
I started to sweat.
“Matty,” he said without looking away. “Your son did something or is about to do something, and he’s trying to keep it from me like that time when he was thirteen and decided to drink a beer from the fridge when no one was home and we found him passed out in the backyard in only his underwear because he’s a lightweight.”
Goddammit.
“Paul did what?” Vince said.
“Nothing,” I said. “It wasn’t a thing. We don’t have to make this a thing.”
“Paul,” Mom said, coming to stand next to Dad, and now I really felt like a kid about to get into trouble. “What are you hiding from your father?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” I said.
“Oh,” Nana said, coming up beside me and leaning in close until her face was inches from my own. “He’s doing that thing where he bites his lip and sweats on his neck. He’s hiding something.”
Vince leaned in too. “Yeah, I see it. What are you hiding, Paul?”
I glared at him.
He smiled at me.
I glared harder.
His eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, that’s right. Shit, I’m hiding something too—I mean, we’re not hiding anything.”
“Language,” Dad chided gently. “And now you’re both hiding something?”
“Absolutely not,” I said, standing up and pushing
past them. I needed to get away from their knowing gazes. “It’s nothing. Mom, this lasagna smells delicious. I see there’s salad. I won’t be having any of that because I’ve decided to just accept that this is how I’ll look at the wedding. There had better be garlic bread.”
“There’s nothing wrong with how you look,” Mom said, heading back toward the oven. I felt Dad staring at me, but I resolutely ignored him. “Vince, tell Paul there’s nothing wrong with the way he looks.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the way you look,” Vince said dutifully.
“Thanks. That was heartfelt, all of you.”
“I’m onto you,” Dad said, pointing two fingers at his eyes, then directing them at me. “You think you can trick dear old Dad? Oh, son. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“Wow, Mr. Auster,” Mom said, sounding a little breathless. “You sounded like some kind of supervillain.”
Dad smiled evilly and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Do you need me to take over your city with a devious scheme, Mrs. Auster?”
“I do love devious schemes, Mr. Auster.”
And I opened my mouth to say something about how gross they were being, about how nobody wanted to see or hear that, but I stopped when I caught the look on Vince’s face. He was smiling fondly at them, like he was so happy that he could even be here to witness the travesty in front of us. I reminded myself of why we were here and closed my mouth again. If it made him happy to see them happy, then who was I to ruin that?
UNFORTUNATELY, DAD’S suspicions of us didn’t let up as we sat down to dinner. I could see him eyeing the both of us as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Vince and I didn’t have a specific plan beyond asking them at some point. We hadn’t really told them about the plans for the wedding party. They knew that we’d wanted to do this wedding our own way and didn’t seem to mind having minimal input.
“And that’s how I ended up finding out that I had consumed my twin when I was in the womb,” Nana said, finishing a story that I wasn’t sure was true or entirely sane.
“Wow,” Vince said. “That’s amazing. That’s just like that episode of Corazón que miente we watched last week. What are the odds?”
“Oh,” Nana said. “That’s right. Okay, I might have gotten it from that. To be honest, I don’t remember much of my childhood. They found me in the woods when I was sixteen. The Wolf Girl, they called me. ‘Beware of the Wolf Girl,’ they said. ‘She’ll come at Christmas and steal your presents and your uvula.’”
“We looked into an assisted living facility,” Mom said. “But we just like her too much to ever put her there.”
“That and the fact that they knew I’d cut them out of my will,” Nana said.
“You have fourteen dollars,” Dad said.
“If you get it in pennies, it seems like a lot,” Nana said.
“That’s true,” Dad said. “Hey, Paul?”
“Yeah?” I was distracted trying to put as much lasagna on a piece of garlic bread as I could.
“Do you have tumors and/or are you dying?”
“No,” I said, satisfied with the ricotta cheese to noodle ratio. “I don’t have—hey!” I glared at him. “You’re trying to trick it out of me!”
“So there is something.”
“Ooh,” Nana and Mom said.
“What? No. And even if there was, why do you automatically go to tumors?”
“You always go to worst-case scenario first,” Dad explained. “That way, if that’s not it, anything else will be better by comparison.”
“I like it when he gets logical,” Mom said, sipping her wine and smiling somewhat lecherously at Dad. “It does things to me.”
“I can’t even with this,” I said to no one in particular.
“You’re dying?” Nana asked. “Can I have your stuff? Ever since your father pointed out I only have fourteen dollars, I have this strange urge to become much more materialistic.”
“I’m not dying.”
“Darn it,” Nana said. “Oh, I mean, yay. That’s good. That’s… good. Vince? What was the name of that poison they used in Corazón que miente when they wanted to kill someone without leaving any evidence behind?”
“Uhh,” Vince said, scrunching up his face. “I don’t remember? I’ve had to learn too many things this week, and sometimes I have to forget other things to know the new things. I don’t know the poison, but I can tell you about the concerns coming out of North Korea.”
“No,” Nana said sadly. “That’s okay.”
“Good,” Vince said, looking relieved. “Because I don’t remember anything about the concerns coming out of North Korea. I had to forget that in order to remember to wear a tie to dinner tonight.”
“You’re not wearing a tie,” Nana pointed out.
Vince frowned as he looked down at his tie-less chest. “Ah, man.”
“Why would you need to wear a tie?” Mom asked. “We’re not fancy here. You don’t need to dress up.”
“Speak for yourself,” Nana said. “I’m fancy as shit.”
“Language,” Dad said.
“Nana, your muumuu has pictures of Donald Trump getting punched in the face by Speedy Gonzales,” I said. “I don’t know if that’s fancy. And I almost don’t even want to know where you got that.”
“You can iron images onto fabrics,” Nana said. “It’s not that hard of a concept. I do know how to use the Internet. And I’m not fancy now. It was just you two coming over for dinner, and I didn’t think it was supposed to be a big deal. If I’d known this was going to be a black-tie affair, I would have put on underwear.”
“Hup,” I gagged. “Hup. Hup.”
“I know you’re up to something,” Dad said, pointing his fork at me. “And you can bet I’m going to find out what.”
“Dear, don’t threaten people with cutlery,” Mom said. “It’s not civilized.” She blinked. “Oh, listen to me, sounding all high and mighty, especially after I just said we weren’t fancy. Never mind. Threaten away.” She picked her fork up and pointed it at me as well.
I sighed.
“Can I do it?” Vince asked me, glancing at my parents, then back to me. “I want to do it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to wait. I forgot my tie and North Korea, and I want to do this now before I forget what I want to say.”
I used my napkin to wipe my mouth to make sure I didn’t have lasagna on my face so my parents would take us seriously. “Um. Okay. Go ahead.”
He reached under the table and took my hand in his. I squeezed him gently so he knew I was ready too. He nodded, took a deep breath, and then looked back at Mom, Dad, and Nana.
“Okay. So. Hi.”
“Hi,” Mom said.
“S’up, trick,” Nana said.
“Did you two murder someone and need help hiding the body?” Dad demanded. “Because if you did, we’d need to rent a truck and take it out to the desert. I know a place.”
“No, Dad,” I said as evenly as possible. “We didn’t murder anyone. And while I appreciate you having my back in case I ever did, we’re going to need to have a talk later about why you think I’m capable of something like that.”
“He’s just worried,” Mom said. “You’re making us nervous. This sounds serious.”
“It is serious,” I agreed. “But it’s nothing bad. It’s actually really good.”
“You know we’re getting married,” Vince said.
“You are?” Nana gasped. “I didn’t know that. Ha, psych. You guys thought I had dementia. Classic.”
“And you know Nana is already standing on Paul’s side of the wedding.”
“Yes,” Nana said. “Paul, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that. I have an idea for the costumes I’m going to be wearing, and I wanted to run it by you.”
“No costumes,” I warned her. “In fact, you are going to wear what I pick out for you and nothing else. And also underwear.”
She scowled at me. �
��I didn’t survive ’Nam to have you youngsters tell me how to live. I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe in those jungles.”
“That was Rambo: First Blood Part II,” Mom said, patting her hand. “You were watching it on your VCR last week.”
“I never get to have any fun.” Nana sighed.
“Is this a money thing?” Dad asked. “Because you know we want to pay for everything.”
“It’s not about money,” I said, shaking my head. “And while we appreciate you wanting cover the cost of everything, we can’t ask you to do that.”
“Oh,” Mom said. “Well, this is going to get awkward, then.”
I narrowed my eyes at them. “What did you do?”
Mom and Dad exchanged a glance before Dad said, “We might have accidentally called the ranch and instructed them to charge everything to us and had them refund the deposit?”
“You what?”
“Whoa,” Vince said. “Righteous.”
“And we might have paid for your suits in full,” Mom said, looking somewhat chagrined.
“Why the hell would you do that?” I demanded.
“Because you’re our son,” Dad said. “And you’re marrying the love of your life. Of course we want to pay for it. Paul, it’s the least we could do for the both of you.”
Any unnecessary anger I’d felt departed almost immediately. “But… this is your retirement. You guys shouldn’t be spending it on us.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “That’s right. It is our retirement. Meaning that your father and I get to decide to do what we wish. And our wish is to pay for your wedding. Don’t argue with us, Paul. Not on this. You’re not going to change our minds. You’re our son, and this is going to be your only wedding. Of course we want to pay for it. If anything, think of it this way: you’ll now be able to take a honeymoon. We know you were going to postpone any trip since you’d just gone to Asia last year.”
God, I loved the hell out of them.
“Yeah,” I said roughly. “Okay.”
She looked surprised but pleased. “Huh,” she said, smiling at Dad. “That was easier than I thought it was going to be. Either I am very convincing, or whatever they want to tell us is terrible and they’re softening the blow.”
