Page 93 of Nerdelicious
“Let me take your coats.” She hangs all of our outerwear on an antique coat rack in the corner and gives us all hugs in turn, gripping me tight and wrapping me in her lemony-basil scent. Crisp and clean and homey, like a mother should smell.
“Thank you for having us for dinner,” Grace says meekly.
Fred and I exchange a glance. Grace is not herself around Fred’s parents—not in a bad way, just in a non-Grace way. She’s extra polite and doesn’t talk much, like she’s suddenly some foreign, shy creature and not the menace we know and love.
“Oh, honey, I’m the one who is happy you could make it. Come into the kitchen. I found something for you at the store.” She takes Grace’s arm and leads her away, hollering down the hall. “Larry, the kids are all here.”
Indistinct muttering emerges from the depths of the house.
“Another present?” Fred calls after her Mom. “Where’s my present?”
Helen and Larry bought Grace the coat and gloves she’s been wearing as a Christmas present, knowing she wouldn’t have anything like it and figuring she could keep it at Fred’s for when she visits in the winter. I’m pretty sure Helen coordinated the surprise with Granny. They dropped the elegantly wrapped package off at Fred’s apartment when Grace first arrived. Grace was so shocked by the gesture she didn’t speak for five full minutes.
I’m not sure Grace knows how to react to the couple, not used to people being so open and affectionate. They welcomed both of us into the family without question. It’s like being on a TV show or something.
Fred gives my arm a squeeze. “I’ll make sure Grace isn’t a pod person, intent on infecting Mom. You go and check on Dad. He probably needs to be ‘encouraged’”—she makes air quotes with her fingers—“to come eat whatever questionable casserole we’re having tonight.”
“I’m not threatening your dad,” I whisper.
“I never said anything about threats. Just make it happen.”
I knock on the open office door before entering, and Fred’s dad is up and out of his chair, clapping me on the back.
“Beast. Come on in, son, I want your opinion.” He guides me over to the corner. “Helen bought me this stool for my office. What do you think?”
He points out the spindly piece of furniture—if it could be called that. It’s a bright purple cushion, set upon twisty thin black legs.
Instead of giving my opinion, I ask, “What is it for?”
Larry shrugs. “To torture me? Why don’t you sit on it so we can test it out?” His eyes are gleaming.
You want me to break it, I sign.
“I didn’t say that.” He rubs his chin. “Maybe I want to test its strength.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling.I can’t do that. It might hurt Helen’s feelings.
Fred’s parents were beyond excited to learn ASL. Like it was no big deal. And like I was doing them a favor, prompting them to gain some new knowledge. They’ve decided to learn British Sign Language next just for kicks.
He nods, rubbing his chin. “Maybe I can convince you after dinner. That will be the torture portion of the evening. Come on, time to face the music.” We head into the dining room.
Fred and Grace are already at the table, Helen in the kitchen.
“I tried something new this week,” Helen calls out. “It’s about ready.”
“Ready for imminent death,” Fred mutters.
Grace presses her lips together, trying not to laugh.
I pull out my seat at the table next to Grace and across from Fred.
“Look what Helen gave me.” Grace holds up a little snow globe and shakes it. It’s got the New York skyline in the center, glittery flakes tumbling around. “Since I missed the snow this time.”
Did you tell them thank you?I sign.
She releases a beleaguered sigh. “Of course.” She places it gently beside her plate.
“Here we are.” Helen brings out a casserole dish and lays it on a trivet in the center of the table. “Everyone, dig in. Who wants a drink?” She goes back into the kitchen to grab a soda for Grace and some water for the rest of us.
