Page 67 of Stick Side
“Yes,” Cathy assured her son. “You even earned bonus points for not complaining about it. If you hadn’t made the situation right, your father and I never would have let you near the tractor again, let alone the car when you got your license.” Ben didn’t miss his mother’s pointed reminder that, not only had he driven the tractor into the neighbors’ barn, he’d done so without the benefit of a driver’s license. Thank goodness he’d stayed on private property.
“If it weren’t for that Imogen McNamara and your juvenile need to impress her,” his mother continued, referring to the Fitzgibbons’ granddaughter who had been visiting them that summer, “you never would have gotten yourself into that mess.”
Ben chose not to speak to that unfortunate incident from his past. The seconds ticked by in silence.
“Benjamin . . .” his mother said, prompting him for some manner of explanation. Past or present, she didn’t seem to care which.
He hesitated before admitting, “I might have invited some teammates home with me for Thanksgiving.”
“That’s it?” his mom asked, immense relief evident in her tone. “You should know I’m perfectly okay with a last-minute guest or two around the holidays. No one should ever have to be alone on days of celebration.”
Ben winced. “It’s more than one or two, Mom.”
Silence.
“Mom . . .” he prompted. His mother’s silence never boded well for anyone.
“Every time you do something stupid,” she began in a measured tone, “there always seems to be a girl involved. It’s the Y-chromosome. Since you didn’t get it from me, I wash my hands of it. Robert,” she yelled, “pick up the phone and talk to your son!”
“Hi there,” his dad greeted in his usual affable tone.
Once his father had spoken, Ben heard the distinct sound of his mother disconnecting her end of the line.
“Ouch,” his father said, an audible wince in his tone. “What did you do to have her hang up on you and refer to you asmyson?”
“I might have accidentally invited half of my new team home with me for Thanksgiving,” Ben admitted without preamble. There was no use dragging this out.
“And what was that I heard your mom say about a girl being involved?” his dad asked with far more tolerance than his mom had just demonstrated.
“Not only did I invite half of my team home, I invited a woman I’ve been seeing.” Ben had been right. As unpleasant as it felt to be having this conversation with his dad, somehow, it was so much easier trying to explain things to his dad than it had been trying to explain them to his mom.
“You really like this girl, don’t you?” his dad asked.
That, at least, was one question easily answered. “I do.”
“And you figured it was too early to bring her home to meet the family as your girlfriend,” his dad observed. “So you invited half the team to make it seem like less of a big deal?”
And he’d gotten it in one try, putting clear, understandable words to what had happened. Robert Logan had always been a very insightful man. It seemed some things never changed.
Ben went on to explain what had happened, then held his phone away from his ear while his dad indulged in a hearty laughat his expense. He’d made his own bed. He now had to lie in it and accept whatever consequences his parents chose to dish out. He could only hope his dad would help him find a way to make the most of things. Ben would simply have to wait until his father stopped laughing long enough to catch his breath, let alone speak words, to help him formulate a plan of action for fitting an extra ten bodies into his parents’ five-bedroom farmhouse. It would also be nice if he could count on his dad’s help to prevent his mom from trussing him up instead of the turkey.
Chapter 33
From the texts of Ben & Melody
Melody:If your life was a movie, what songs would be on the soundtrack?
Ben:Well. Of course, there are the two obvious ones: “I’m Too Sexy,” by Right Said Fred and “Bootylicious,” by Destiny’s Child.
Melody:I'm rolling my eyes at you. You’re such a dork.
Ben:Why, Dr. McGuire, are you saying you don’t think I’m sexy? *bats eyelashes dramatically
Melody:I’m rolling my eyes again. Anyone with eyes can tell you’re an incredibly attractive man.
Ben:Thanks, beautiful. But, whatever I am, I don’t hold a candle to you. Well. Except maybe in the booty. Because, you know, 20+ hours of hockey per week does a booty good. ;-)
Melody:Hahaha. Oh go on then.
