Fools Rush in(25)

This last item would take a little finessing. Lorenzo had asked me to choose the restaurant, and I had picked the Barnacle for several reasons. Katie worked there, so she could check him out, the food was excellent and there was indeed a strong possibility that Joe would be around. Many birds slain with just one little stone.

The day before my date, I decided to visit my parents. I had been neglecting them a bit, dropping in only briefly, and so I called dear old Mom and asked her if I could come for dinner. As most moms in the world would be, she was delighted with the chance to feed her child.

“Of course you can come, honey!” she exclaimed. “What do you want me to make?”

“Anything, Mom. Everything you make is fantastic,” I replied truthfully.

“Oh, you’re so sweet. How about roast chicken?”

A sudden rush of guilt washed over me. Clearly, Mom was lonely…. She and Trish had done a lot together. Both were small-boned and slender and loved to go shopping at Talbots or the outlets, having lunch, seeing a play or movie. I had done little to fill the gap Trish had left.

“Why don’t you see if Sam and Danny can come, too?” I asked, knowing that the more people she had to fuss over, the happier my mother would be.

“Great idea! Okay, hon, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Somehow, her happiness made me feel even guiltier.

The next night, I presented my mom with a bouquet of yellow tulips and gave her a big smooch. Danny and Sam were already there; Dad had Sam in the cellar, talking about manly things like cement and wiring, and Danny was setting up an e-mail account on my mom’s computer. It felt kind of festive, especially without my sister’s perpetually dissatisfied presence. Mom bustled around, half listening as Danny explained the nuances of Google, and I poured myself a glass of wine. The smell of roasted chicken and rosemary filled the kitchen, and I was suddenly starving. I hadn’t had many real meals in the last few months.

“I love your outfit, Millie darling,” my mom said, pausing to look at me.

“Thanks,” I smiled. I was wearing black pants and a blue shirt with a little blue-and-white floral scarf tied around my neck as instructed. Gold earrings. Gold-and-blue bracelet. Black suede shoes. “Curtis and Mitch and I went shopping. They’re better than Garanimals.”

“What are Garanimals?” Danny asked.

My mom smiled at the memory. “They were a brand of clothes. Everything came with a tag so you could tell what would match.”

“If your shirt had a gazelle tag and so did your pants, you matched,” I solemnly explained. “If they had a lion tag, they wouldn’t go with the gazelle tag, because lions eat gazelles. Are you following, Daniel?”

Mom and I laughed as Danny rolled his eyes. “We can only hope they bring them back,” she said.

“Hi, Daddy!” I said as my father and Sam emerged from the cellar. I stood on tiptoe to kiss Dad’s stubbly cheek. “How’s the King of Crap?”

“Just fine, darling. How’s my little girl?” He gave me a close look, frowning a bit. “Nancy, Millie looks thin. Aren’t we feeding her?”

“She doesn’t live with us anymore, Howard,” Mom answered. “And you do look a little thin, Millie. Are you eating okay?”

My parents thought I was thin. How I loved them! I smiled sappily while Sam smiled.

“I’ve just been running, that’s all,” I said proudly. Obviously, I was not going to tell my mother what I’d been eating recently.

“Running? Oh, that’s dangerous, honey. Howard, tell her it’s dangerous,” Mom replied.

“Millie, it’s dangerous,” Dad complied. “Let’s eat.”

We tucked into Mom’s wonderful cooking. Along with the succulent rosemary chicken, we feasted on mashed potatoes (which I’d have to avoid, as Mom used half-and-half for that extra hint of cholesterol), glazed carrots and native turnips, my favorite. Apple pie for dessert. Give me strength, Lord.

As we ate, Danny told us about his plans for the summer. He and some other kids from his class were going to Appalachia for a week to help build houses with Habitat for Humanity. On his return, he would start a job at a local camp for inner-city kids. Sam smiled modestly at his plate, but he was just about humming with pride. With the characteristic blend of confidence and terror unique to Red Sox fans, we discussed Boston’s pitching lineup (superlative), their batting (formidable) and their chances at a World Series victory (excellent). And finally, finally, Mom asked the question I’d been waiting for….

“So, Millie, how’s work?”

Okay, well, that wasn’t the question I’d been waiting for, but since no one would ask that question (“Are you seeing anyone, Millie?”), I would use work as a vehicle to discuss my upcoming date.

“Work’s great, Mom.”

“Anything interesting going on?” Sam, bless him, asked.

“Actually, I met a really nice guy a few days ago. He’s a marine biologist studying horseshoe crabs, and he got cut and needed stitches.”

“A marine biologist?” my dad asked suspiciously. Dad would have chosen a bricklayer or plumber for his girls—or a cop, of course. He viewed people with too much education as untrustworthy. Except his own baby girl, that is.

“Mmm hmm. We’re going out tomorrow night.”