Oh shit.
I thought I was in trouble, official, definite, certifiable trouble but I realized that now I was real y in trouble.
Dad approved of Hank.
I knew he would but I didn’t know it’d make me feel al warm and squishy inside.
“I’l stay behind,” Uncle Tex offered.
Dad nodded and turned to Hank. “That work for you?” Hank didn’t look happy but he also nodded.
Then his eyes came to rest on me.
I heard his non-verbalized request and walked to him.
His arms came around me.
“We’l be quick,” he told me.
“Okay.”
“Lock the door and don’t open it to anyone,” Hank said.
“Okay,” I replied.
“The couch in the office pul s out into a bed. Your parents want to stay here, they’re welcome,” he went on.
That was not okay but I said, “Okay,” anyway.
He grinned at me and I got the impression he knew my thoughts. Then he kissed my forehead, let me go and nodded to my Dad.
Then they were gone.
“He’s cute,” Mom said to the closed door.
Shamus came and sat on my feet so I gave him an ear scratch.
“You’re not spending the night here,” I told my mother.
“Your father doesn’t want you out of his sight,” Mom told me.
“He just went to a bar with Hank,” I pointed out.
“Wel , you know what I mean,” Mom returned.
“I’l get you a hotel.”
“You are not getting us a hotel. We’ve got money. Don’t fight it, it’s a parent thing.”
“Mom,” I whined (yes, whined).
“Roxanne Gisel e –”
“Trish, for fuck’s sake, she’s sleepin’ with the guy. Get a fuckin’ clue,” Uncle Tex boomed.
I stared at Uncle Tex in horror.
Mom was total y unaffected.
“That’s okay. I’m liberated,” Mom announced. “I’l talk Herb into being liberated too. I don’t think he’l care though, he likes Hank. I can tel .”
Mom had never been “liberated” before. Bil y and I had always slept in separate bedrooms when we visited, and my brother Gil and my sister Mimi also had the same arrangements with their girlfriends and boyfriends and Gil had been living with his girlfriend for three years.
I looked at Uncle Tex. “Please make them stay with you.”
“It’s outta my hands,” Uncle Tex said.
I sighed and gave in. I was too exhausted from my weird day and two bouts of crying fits to fight it.
“I like his house,” Mom announced. “It’s cozy but it needs candles. And his dog is so cute!” Mom bent over and cooed at Shamus. Shamus sauntered over to her, smel ed her outstretched hand and then gave her a sloppy, wet, doggie kiss on her cheek. “Ooo! He’s sweet!” I turned to Uncle Tex. “Wil you shoot me?” I asked.
He put his big hand on top of my head and smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Get Over Here
When Hank and Dad walked into the living room after going out for a drink, Dad’s face didn’t look ravaged with worry anymore, which I thought was a good thing. Also, when Hank and Dad walked into the living room after going out for a drink, they were carrying Mom and Dad’s luggage, which I thought was a very, very bad thing.
“Since we were out there, we got the bags from the rental car. And you women say men can’t multi-task,” Dad declared, dumping the luggage in the living room.
“Oh dear Lord, he remembers one thing and he wants to be congratulated,” Mom sighed and looked at me. “Men.” I wasn’t in the mood for Mom and Dad’s bickering, I was staring at the luggage.
“You aren’t staying here,” I said.
Dad looked at me, confused. “Hank said we could.” I looked at Hank, then to Mom, then Dad, then Tex and then I rol ed my eyes.
I just didn’t have it in me.
“Oh, al right,” I gave in.
Mom and I got the sheets and extra pil ows and made up the bed. Hank got beers from the fridge and we al talked.
Uncle Tex left, then I kissed Mom and Dad good night and they went to bed.
Nary a word was said about the sleeping arrangements.
Hank put an arm around my shoulders and walked me to his bedroom, hitting the lights as we walked through the rooms.
“I’m going to have to sleep on the couch,” I told him once we’d made it to his bedroom. I got my nightie from under the pil ow and started toward the bathroom while saying, “Do you have another blanket?”
“You aren’t sleepin’ on the couch,” Hank told my back, as if that was that. Then he said, “I’l let Shamus out.” I turned around and saw him walk out of the room.
Wel .
I did not think so.
I got ready for bed and was sitting on it, cross-legged, when he came back. The minute he closed the door, I launched in. “Hank, if I’m not sleeping on the couch, then you’re gonna have to sleep on the couch.”
He lifted his arms and grabbed his sweater behind his back and pul ed it over his head, dropping it on the floor.
Then he sat on the bed to take off his boots. “I’m not sleepin’ on the couch either.”