Page 142 of Slumming It
Obviously, I was missing something. "Is that a joke?"
"Do I look like I'm laughing?"
"No. You look angry, and I'd like to know why."
He didn't deny it. "Lemme ask you something. If you had to choose, what would you do?"
"If I had to choose what?"
"Between me and them, who would you pick?"
"You mean…between you and my parents? Why would Ihaveto pick?"
His expression only hardened. "It's just a question. Call it theoretical."
"Well maybe I don't like those kinds of questions."
"Why? Because you don't have an answer?"
"No. Because it's too horrible to contemplate."
He shrugged. "Then forget I asked."
Oh, like it was so easy."That's not exactly forgettable."
"Sodon'tforget," he said. "But that'syourchoice, not mine."
For the past couple of hours, I'd been dying to ask him about that hip surgery thing, but somehow, the moment had never seemed right. And now it was feeling less right with every passing second. With growing apprehension, I asked, "Just what are you getting at, anyway?"
"Hey, you're the one who brought it up."
"Broughtwhatup?"
"Your parents."
What the heck?"My parents aren't an 'it'."
"Alright," he said with exaggerated patience. "You're the one who broughtthemup. You think I wanna hear it?"
My eyes narrowed. "You just called them 'it' again."
"No." He still sounded overly patient. "I said 'them.'"
"Maybe thefirsttime, but then you asked if I thought you wanted to hearit, like my parents are athing, not actual people." My face warmed in the crisp autumn air. "And as long as we're on the subject, they'd really like to meet you."
He gave a hard scoff. "I wouldn't count on it."
"And what doesthatmean?"
"What are you thinking? That we're all gonna be one happy family?" His tone grew mocking. "We're gonna do Sunday dinners with apple pie? Is that who you think I am?"
No.
And yes.
Maybe.
Sunday dinners aside, up until a moment ago, I really felt like I knew him. Now I wasn't so sure. Desperate to ease some of the tension, I tried for a joke. "Oh, so now you hate pie?"
