Page 47 of Something Like Summer
Chapter 14
“I owe you.”
Tim’s voice rumbled intothe ear that Ben had pressed against his chest, startling him justas he was dozing off.
“Hm?”
“I owe you,” Tim repeated,shifting so Ben was forced to raise his head and look up at him.“Big time. I’ll pay for the damages, how does thatsound?”
Ben yawned and proppedhimself up on an elbow. “There is something I’ve been thinking of,”he said.
“Name it. My parents wouldhave killed me if we’d been caught. Whatever you want, it’syours.”
“It’s your parents I hadin mind,” Ben said hesitantly. “I want to meet them.”
Tim snorted, but the amusedexpression left his face when Ben failed to smile. “Noway.”
“Fine, your car then.” Benslumped over onto his back. “Sign it over to me. Or dinner withyour parents, you decide.”
“Why would you even wantto meet them?” Tim asked. “They’re just as old and boring as anyoneelse’s parents.”
“They’re a part of yourlife, that’s why.”
“No theyaren’t.”
“They are!” Ben insisted.“You may not always see eye to eye with them, but they raised you,and they know you better than anyone else in the world.”
“You have no idea whatyou’re talking about. My parents aren’t the same asyours.”
“How many times do I sneakover a week?” Ben asked, changing his tactic.
“I don’t know. Threetimes?”
“It’s inevitable that onenight I am going to run into your mom checking to make sure thedoor is locked, or your dad getting a glass of water. It would benice if they recognized me so they don’t shoot me onsight.”
Tim was silent and Ben lethim think. “Okay,” he said eventually. “Come over this weekend. Youcan say ‘hi’ to them before we head out to Splashtown.”
“Dinner,” Benpersisted.
“How am I supposed tomanage that?”
Ben smiled, enjoying hisvictory. “You’ll think of something.”
* * * * *
Weeks went by before thedinner took place. Tim complained that parents usually insisted onmeeting friends, and that reversing the request was weird.Eventually, Mrs. Wyman cooked something large enough that Timhurriedly called Ben so he could show up “unexpectedly.” Everythingwent according to plan. Tim answered the door and then asked hisparents, as casually as possible, if Ben could join them. Hisparents agreed, even though they didn’t look particularly pleasedwith the idea.
Ben, dressed as snazzy aspossible without appearing too formal, took his seat across fromTim at the narrow dining room table. His feet accidentally brushedagainst Tim’s leg, which recoiled defensively. Ben gave him themost positive and reassuring look possible, before turning hisattention to Tim’s parents. Mrs. Wyman was even more beautiful thanhe remembered. She was spry and energetic as she busied herselfabout the table, attending to her role as hostess with greatseriousness.
Mr. Wyman sat rigid in hischair as he watched his wife work. Much of Tim’s handsomeness camefrom him, but the stoic demeanor was thankfully not something hehad inherited. With his grey hair and stillness, Tim’s father couldhave been made of stone.
A plate ofchile rellenos—batteredpeppers stuffed with meat and cheese—was placed before Ben. He“oohed” and “aahed” over the meal and thanked Tim’s mothergraciously. Her mouth relaxed into attractive lips that smiled inappreciation. Mr. Wyman remained unimpressed, studying Ben evenlybefore folding his hands. He led his family in prayer before theyate. Ben was prepared for this. Tim had tutored him multiple timeson the ritual and what to say. Ben seamlessly intoned grace alongwith the Wymans as if he had long since been a member of theirfamily.
There was no lull inconversation. Ben had done too much research for there to be. Hestarted with Mexico City, Mrs. Wyman’s birthplace. After pouringthrough encyclopedias for hours, he had learned it was nicknamedthe City of Palaces, that it was built by Aztecs in 1325, andboasted more museums than any other city in the world. He workedthrough these topics, claiming to have recently written a paperabout the city for history class. Mrs. Wyman became animated,adding to his knowledge with great enthusiasm. Occasionally thetopic of religion came up, ninety percent of Mexico City beingCatholic, but Ben gently steered the conversation away every timeit did.
Next he turned his charmson Mr. Wyman. This was much more difficult since the topic Ben hadchosen to use was football, something he knew nothing about. Timhad coached him here too, teaching him the basics of the gamebefore moving onto specifics involving Mr. Wyman’s favorite team,the Kansas City Chiefs. It would have been too blatant for Ben toclaim to like the same team, so he chose instead to playfullyattack a few of their players and games while defending the DallasCowboys. Ben felt fake during his conversation with Mr. Wyman,since he had absolutely no interest in sports, but Tim’s fatherdidn’t seem to pick up on his insincerity.
“It is so nice to finallymeet one of Tim’s friends,” Mrs. Wyman said in perfect butexotically accented English. “He’s been so protective of his sociallife since Kansas.”
