Page 29 of Man Cuffed
My sister and I both set down our plates without argument and troop outside. Because nobody crosses mom. She’s not a monster, but she is a force of nature. Arguing with her is like arguing with a grizzly bear. She doesn’t bother arguing back, she just mauls you.
She opens the back of her monstrous, gas-guzzling car to reveal… I don’t even know what. I see a bunch of flowers. Some kind of white board. And pictures of a bunch of strangers grinning at me. It’s like they’ve been plucked from a freakish catalogue of healthy living or something.
“This is your shower gift!” Mom bellows. “It’s a collage of your future happiness.”
Huh. Sounds like I was right on the money.
I take a closer look. “Collage, huh?” I ask mom. “I thought you were into crochet these days.”
My mother sniffs. “I am crocheting a shower curtain for the wedding gift.”
“Oh, boy,” Rosie says under her breath.
“But theshowergift is a collage. It’s a room divider.”
“Oh,” Rosie says carefully. “What room am I meant to divide?”
“Pick one!” Mom says. “Macklin, help me.”
I reach into the car and carefully grab a set of three boards. The room divider folds accordion style. I open it to reveal the three-paneled work of art. It’s covered in hundreds—maybe thousands—of photos. “Jesus, Mom.” This thing must have taken months. It’s a true photo collage, whereby each little photo snippet is combined to make a larger picture.
“Wow,” my sister says in a hushed tone. “That’s seriously impressive.”
Mom beams.
“Who are…” my sister breaks off. The main image shows six people. Two of them are easy to identify—Rosie and her fiancé are depicted with eerie perfection. Rosie’s face is made from snips of hundreds of bathing photos (to get that skin color just right.) I think I recognize my bare four-year-old ass among other photos.
That’s an interesting choice.
But it’s the subject matter that’s really breathtaking. Rosie and Kwan are accompanied in this artwork by four children of various ages. The youngest one is a baby in Rosie’s arms.
“Four grandchildren!” my mother bellows. “It took me seven gallons of Mod Podge to make this sucker. And seventy-six trips to CVS for photo printing. And as many months to make as it will take you to gestate an actual grandchild.”
“Wow,” Rosie says, but her tone is glum. “Four, though? You only had three kids. And you started younger.”
“That is not my fault,” she says. “I think you’ve got it in you. Now.” She turns to me. “Now let’s address your situation.”
“My situation?” I echo, as a feeling of doom settles over me. It’s the way she said “situation.” Like she was saying “tumor.”
“He brought a girlfriend to the party!” Rosie squawks. “Her name is Meg and she’s adorable.”
Mom gasps.
Dad tugs on the short sweater sleeve.
Shit. Now I’m going to have to murder my sister. I give Rosie a glare, but she only smiles back at me with a crazed gleam in her eye. Maybe the poor girl couldn’t help herself. My mother basically demanded that she bear four grandchildren, starting today. I guess I’d change the topic, too.
“Let’s eat chicken salad,” I suggest, hoping Mom will forget all about Meg. I’m not ready for this discussion. I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with this lie until the actual wedding. I thought I’d have some time to warm up to the idea and at least talk to Meg beforehand. How am I going to pull off convincing them that we’re in love when I don’t even know Meg’s last name?
But Mom isn’t listening anymore. She’s marching toward the patio, determination etched into her features.
“I’m a little afraid for Meg,” I grunt. “How could you throw me under the bus like this?”
“You never show up with a date! This is newsworthy. Also, Meg is lovely. So maybe you’d better tell me everything.” She scrunches her eyes at me, like she’s making it clear she can see through my bullshit.
Damn sister. How am I supposed to play Meg off as my adoring girlfriend now? In the span of two minutes, that whole idea seems crazy. I never could tell a lie to Rosie. It’s her big eyes and their ability to see right through me.
“She’s just a neighbor. Today I borrowed...some sugar...and she needed...a tire,” I say slowly.
