Page 35 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

6. Dylan

October 20, 2018

“You know, Giorgio,you could’ve just bought the ready-made one,” mom comments from the doorway of the den.

My parents usually take off from restaurant duties every alternate weekend, so we can have some family time. Today family time is manual labor. My dad and I are trying to construct a wall unit for his new home entertainment system, and my mother hates when we do these DIY projects because we’re noisy and tend to leave a mess that just kinda sits there until we’re done.

My dad looks up from the instruction manual that we’re crouching over on the floor. “Then how will I bond with my boy, Lorraine?”

She shrugs and leans against the wall. “I don’t know. Something with a little less banging. Why don’t you watch football? Don’t men bond over watching other men touch each other and get all sweaty as they try to grab some balls?”

“If you’re trying to ruin football for us, it won’t work.”

“How was your game last night, sweetie? I would’ve come, but your father insisted I hold down the fort while he goes off and has fun.”

He groans softly. “That’s because you don’t even like football. And if you must know, they were great, won by two points. Might’ve been more if Scott was playing. Sean is strong, and he’s fast, but he just doesn’t know when to pass the ball.”

“Either way, I missed all that fun,” Mom complains, “because I was stuck at the restaurant, and I also wanted to see you bend it like Beckham.”

There’s silence for a full minute as both of us glare at her. “That’s not the same football.” Dad’s eyes move back to the manual. “Okay, so it says we need an eighteen-millimeter wrench.”

I check the toolbox. “Biggest we got is seventeen.”

---