Page 60 of The Leaves In Autumn
“Honey, it’s fine,” Dad says. “Go back to the party. The three of us will get her settled.”
Xavier looks defeated. The party’s over and he knows it. Mine might just be starting. I meet her eyes.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. We haven’t had a real dance yet.”
The surprise does what I hoped. Now she will be thinking of something other than her misbehaving mother.
“I’ll get my shoes back on.”
“Come on son, we’ll put her in one of the downstairs guest rooms.”
We head for the porch and carefully take the steps. She probably weighs all of a hundred and twenty pounds but feels like a sack of soggy potatoes.
A weird whine comes from the depth of her. Good. She’s alive.
“You’re going to stay with her, right?”
Dad’s question to Xavier is rhetorical. But the man does not understand the concept.
“Well, I’ll just finish my dinner. She’ll be out for awhile.”
We move through the hall to the last guest room. Dad meets the man’s eyes.
“No, that won’t work. There will be people staying in these guest rooms tonight. So, I’m going to have Aargon call for an Uber in an hour. They can bring you back to your hotel.”
It’s comical how the lion took control.
“Oh. Okay. But we can sleep anywhere if Abby needs to. A couch. The porch chairs. Those look comfy.”
Now I jump in.
“That won’t be happening. Let’s see. It’s four now. The Uber will pick you up at five. I’ll give your goodbyes to the girls. We don’t want to upset the bride.”
Not giving him a chance to respond, Dad bullshits the bullshitter.
“Let Abby know we enjoyed meeting her, and you, and I’m sure Barbra will call her later. What time’s your flight tomorrow?”
The man looks gobsmacked.
“Eleven, I think.”
Should we turn back the bedding? Executive decision. It stays put. Pretty sure there will be some drooling at the very least. We lay her drunk ass atop, and I motion to the club chair and ottoman in the corner by the window.
“There’s a good place to put your feet up. I’ll have the staff bring you coffee. Hey, hope your trip home goes smoothly. And thanks for coming.”
Xavier doesn’t know what hit him. He can’t find any room for discussion, because there isn’t any.
As if to punctuate the moment, a long fart escapes the mother of the bride. Xavier finds it amusing.
“Please do not tell me how bad it got.”
As we dance around each other, to an early Rolling Stones hit, Barbra lets me know she has seen too much from her mother.
“Don’t worry about it!”
“I’m just glad Layla didn’t know.”
“You know you’re missing what a great dancer I am.”
