Wait, You Did What? by T. A. Moorman
Contemporary/Romantic Comedy
“You got enough meat on those bones to afford to miss a meal or two,” Was Mom’s snappy reply to that comment.
“Estelle, you wound me with your words. Now, I’m going to need some extra affection from you or I’ll start believing you just don’t love me like you used to.”
“I’ll give you some extra affection alright, a whack upside the back of your head if you touch that food before we say grace.”
Rolling my eyes at that, I sat down. I couldn’t help but smile at how much the two of them loved one another, as we bowed our heads to say grace. They almost gave me hope that I could find that type of love too. Almost.
Mom cleared her throat before saying, “There’s some grown up juice mixed in with the orange juice, since I’m more than sure we gonna need it. Nothing ever bodes well when Max calls and says he wants to discuss something with us.”
“Ma, come on, maybe I just wanted to spend some time with my family.”
“Boy, do I look like I was born yesterday to you? If so, them damn contacts ain’t worth a damned dime that you paid for ‘em, and you need to go get a refund.”
I just about choked on my juice listening to the two of them go back and forth. I don’t think Pops even heard a mumbling word over his own chewing. I barely recall seeing the man even fix his plate, but when I looked over at him he was already halfway done and eyeballing seconds.
I had a coughing fit so bad Pops was about to get up and beat me on the back until I choked out an, “I’m okay,” when I heard Max telling Mom, “Maybe I wanna just discuss going on a family vacation. We haven’t done that in a while now.” I downed another glass of ‘grown up juice’ to help soothe my throat, and get ready for the big reveal.
“Maybe if you actually ate some food to go with all that juice you keep downing you wouldn’t be over there having spasms,” Pops suggested to me between mouthfuls.
Only thing I could say to that was, “I am. I’m just a bit more thirsty than I am hungry.” You would be too if you knew just what kind of vacation your son was talking about. As if he was reading my thoughts, Max cut his eyes at me.
“Quit eyeballing your sister, and tell us some more about this vacation idea of yours.” Poor Mom, she truly sounded excited about it.
“Yes, Max, please enlighten us with more details about this vacation plan of yours,” I said. “I am just so intrigued.”
“Justine, I hate you.”
“Love you too bro.” I even blew him a kiss with that. Which made him look as though he wanted to strangle me. “Just trying to offer up some encouragement. I’m in the mood for a vacation myself and would love to hear the details.”
“You are so not helping here.” He was turning beet red. Maybe I should let up a little bit. I had barely had that thought before there was a knock at the door.
My eyes went round as saucers. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
When Mom scooted back her chair to go to the door, Max stopped her saying, “I’ll get it.”
Sure enough, when he walked back in he had Chelsea on his arm. “Mom, Pops, meet Chelsea, my fiancée.”
After about two seconds of stunned silence, Mom finally recovered enough to say, “Justine, pass me that damn juice you hogging up over there.” Then she turned to Pops saying, “Henry, please tell me your son did NOT just bring me home a white girl.”
Going to your child’s PTA meetings in full Gothic, especially industrial, regalia is pretty much frowned upon. Especially by your own children, and your teens would die of a heart attack. But, one should not have to completely stop being themselves, uniqueness is greatness. So all of that darkness is put into words in her books, and designs in her jewelry sold in her GothicMoms DarkCharms shop.
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