Page 79 of Grumpy Puck

No one answers, though I can hear boisterous laughter and loud conversations happening inside.

“Typical.”Calliope pulls out a key and opens the door.

The sounds grow louder, and we enter, ending up in a kitchen.The first person I notice is an older woman who looks so much like Calliope that it is easy to guess this is her mother.She’s sitting in a split, a chopping knife in her handand a cutting board on the floor next to her.A man standing near her is juggling vegetables.Calliope’s father?

“Aromatics,” the woman says.

The juggler adroitly tosses an onion in the air in such a way that it lands squarely on the cutting board.Then he does the same with a clove of garlic.

“Thanks, honey,” the woman says and starts chopping without coming out of the split.

“Hi, Mom.Hi, Dad,” Calliope says.

Clearly startled, her dad drops a turnip, and her mom leaps to her feet, both examining me with unabashed curiosity.

“Hi,” I say, and thrust the flowers at her mom.“This is for you.”I give her dad the chocolates and curse myself for not bringing a bottle of vodka as well.

“You must be Boo Boo,” Calliope’s dad says.

“No.Just Boo.Singular,” Calliope corrects.“Right, Boo?”

I grunt in the affirmative.

“Just Boo?”Her mom frowns.“But the internet?—”

“Would have you believe I’m Honey,” Calliope says.“When in reality, I’m his Pit-Check-Uh.”

“It’s pronouncedptichka.”I smile at the parents.“It means little bird.”

“Aww,” the mom says.“That’s much better than ‘Honey.’”

“But just one Boo is a downgrade from Boo Boo,” the dad chimes in.“Though I’m sure you’ll come up with a better endearment for him over time.”

“I prefer it when she calls me Michael,” I say.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Michael,” the dad says.“I’m Zephyr.”

Should I tell him that’s a name of a Russian confectionary that’s very similar to meringue?

“And I’m Xanthe,” the mom says.

“It’s a pleasure,” I reply.On a whim, I take her hand and give it a light kiss.

Xanthe gasps, grabs her daughter by her shoulder, and very loudly whispers, “You’d better marry this one.We could use a Klaunbut with manners.”

“He wouldn’t be a Klaunbut,” Zephyr says.“She’d be a?—

“Mom, Dad, please stop,” Calliope says, her cheeks burning.“This is our first official date, so talking about marriage is?—”

“Hello,” says a guy who seems to have materialized out of thin air.“I’m Calliope’s brother.I’m sure she’s mentioned me.”

Actually, she hasn’t talked about her family all that much, but I’m not about to tell them that.“I’m Michael.”I extend my hand.

“Tortellini,” the brother says, and everyone around him groans.

Like the round Italianpelmeni-like things?

“He’s actually called Torey,” Calliope says with an eyeroll.

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