“That’s my son,” my dad says proudly to Nancy, as he pours wine into our glasses, casting a gigantic smile around the table like a spotlight. “I told you he’d be late.”
“Oh, give him a break, Ron,” Nancy smiles back. “Owen probably needed extra time to get ready, trying to look half as nice as his girlfriend does.”
I clear my throat and look at Margo, half-ready to correct her use of the word ‘girlfriend,’ but Margo only laughs appreciatively as she sips her wine. I guess we’re playing it like that.
My dad leans back in his seat, still smiling like a baby in front of a dangled toy, and says, “So Margo—nice name, by the way, suits you—you work with Owen?”
“I do,” Margo says. “But we’ve known each other for a while. Since college, actually.”
“Oh, how sweet!” Nancy says, looking at us appreciatively.
My dad frowns. “How come this is the first time we’re meeting this lovely girl, Son?”
Deadpan, I say, “I don’t know. I guess I needed to prepare her.”
It’s the kind of comment my dad would get in an instant, the kind of thing that would make him shoot me a glare, a ‘don’t make this difficult’ look. Except Nancy laughs. Big, loud, and deep, the kind of laugh that fills a room, and my dad joins in. I look at Margo, but she’s smiling happily too.
“How did you two meet?” Margo asks, curiously.
“Oh, it’s a long story,” my dad says.
“No it isn’t,” Nancy chides. “He’s just being bashful.”
My dad? Bashful? But when I look at him, I can almost believe it.
“Ok,” he says to Nancy breezily. “You tell it then.”
“Alright,” Nancy says, their exchange as easy and rhythmic as if it were scripted. “I was down in L.A. for a book fair. Our library was in desperate need of some new stock.”
“Library?” I say quickly.
“Yes. Where I work.”
My jaw drops. “You’re a librarian?”
Nancy smiles again. “Hard to believe? Oh, I know what you’re thinking. I’m too loud for a library. Ha! I know, honey, everybody says that. I can be quiet as a mouse when I want, though.”
My dad looks at her with an admiration and warmth that confuses me even further, until we’re interrupted by the waiter bringing menus. Once we’ve ordered, he urges Nancy to continue.
“So…where was I?”
“The book fair,” Margo reminds her.
Nancy beams. “Yes! The book fair. And I’m there, you know, placing some book orders. Lots of romance novels. Let me tell you,” Nancy says, leaning in and putting her hand on my arm, “Southern girls just love their romance. Anyway, there I am with catalogs and order forms and about eight boxes of books, and I’m searching for a cart to carry them all out to the truck, when this handsome, charming man appears out of nowhere, and offers to help me carry them.”
“That’s me,” my dad says, happily, and I cover my grimace with my hand.
“Next thing I know I’m transferring to a library here, moving out to L.A., and…well, now I’m here!” Nancy says, ending her sentence with another laugh.
Margo nods and smiles sweetly.
“How long ago was that?” I ask in a heavy voice.
“Moving down here?” Nancy asks.
“Meeting,” I say.
“Oh, I don’t know…when was it, Ron?”
“Lemme think, two? Three months?”
I frown at my dad, then at Nancy, waiting for a note of recognition, the slightest acceptance that what they’re saying is fucking ridiculous. Two months. He upended this nice woman’s life based on two months, and knowing his track record, their relationship is already rapidly reaching its sell-by date.
“Ah! Here’s the food!” my dad says, and I decide to concentrate on eating it as quickly as possible. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.
We carry on eating, the carbonara I ordered tasting like ash in my mouth even though I know it must be good by the way Margo keeps sneaking bites of the pancetta. While she and Nancy talk books, my dad offering praise for both of them, I keep quiet, growing more and more frustrated, to the point where I’m not even sure why anymore. I know I’m acting like a fucking child, and I should just be happy for my dad and Nancy, but I just can’t get myself there.
During a lull in the conversation, after the dinner plates have been cleared away, tiramisu and a couple of coffees on the table, I notice Nancy lean in to my dad, nudging him and whispering. Something about it makes me tense up.
My dad clears his throat to get our attention.
“I’ve got something to announce—we’ve got something to announce,” he says with confident excitement. I feel a burning in the pit of my stomach.
Margo and I look at each other and put our coffee cups down, and she grabs my hand under the table.
“Well…” my dad says slowly, looking at Nancy and smiling. “We’ve thought about it long and hard, and…we both really want this. So…we’re engaged.”
“Congratulations!” Margo says happily, squeezing my hand.
“Thank you!” Nancy says, as my dad smiles at both of them. “I didn’t want a ring but Ron insisted—we’re just waiting for it to get sized at the jeweler’s. Here, I have a picture.” She pulls her phone out and Margo leans across the table to look. I watch the three of them coo over the photos, and each other, feeling like the world has gone crazy all around me.
“Engaged?” I say, once the yelps and exclamations of happiness quiet down. “Three months ago you didn’t know each other, and now you’re engaged.”
“Oh, Owen,” Margo chides me, running her thumb over the back of my hand in soothing strokes. “I think it’s wonderful.”
Nancy blushes and grins. “It’s amazing how quickly love can strike, isn’t it?”
“You think you’re in love with each other?” I scoff, and feel Margo’s hand suddenly clench mine hard, as if to shut me up.
“Son,” my dad says sternly, glaring at me.
“What?” I say, looking at Margo. “Am I crazy here? Or is this ridiculous? I’ve had injuries that lasted longer than this relationship. Why not see if the whole ‘living together’ thing works out, first?”
“We’re not getting married for a few months yet,” Nancy says, almost apologetically.
“Really?” I say. “Oh, well that’s fine then. ‘Cause three months is quite short, but six months is definitely enough time to base a life-long commitment on.”
“Owen.” My dad’s voice is steel, but before he can continue, Nancy clears her throat.
“Excuse me.” She sets her napkin aside and stands up. “I’m just going to visit the powder room and freshen up. Margo?”
“Yes,” Margo says, pulling her hand away from mine as if it’s scalded her. “I should go too.”
My dad and I glare at each other while the women leave. I shake my head at him.
“Listen to me,” he says once they’re out of earshot, as if I’m fourteen again and he has any authority left after what he’s just done. “That was way out of line. You need to apologize when they get back.”
“Apologize? To who? To this stranger you gave a ring to?”
“She’s not a stranger.”