Page 87 of Flirtasaurus
The moment we pull up to my parents’ house, I see them through the bay windows, scurrying to the door to greet us. By the time we open the car doors, they’re halfway down the driveway.
“There she is!” my mom sings.
“Come here, birthday girl!” My dad is beaming with his arms open wide.
“Whoa, it’s your birthday?” Ralph whispers, looking a bit shook.
“Eh. Sort of.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell me it’s your—”
“Birthdays aren’t a big deal to me. Plus, it falls on Easter this year. And believe me, in this house? Their boy, JC, definitely takes precedence over their lapsed Catholic liberal heathen daughter.”
“Lopey baby, hi!” my mom says warmly as she reaches me and wraps me in a ridiculously tight hug.
“I forgot to mention,” I wheeze over my mom’s shoulder. “They call me Lopey.”
“That’s right; she’s our little Mopey Lopey!”
“Mom,” I whine.
“What? You know you’ve always been a bit of a stinker, my little freethinker.”
“I’m a bit of a stinker,” I tell Ralph with an eye roll.
“No need to tell me,” Ralph replies with a wink.
I give him a dirty look, but he goes right into respectable young man mode and shakes my dad’s hand, so I don’t think it even registers.
“Hi, sir.”
“Call me Ken!”
“Okay. Hi, Ken.”
“Great. Now that we got that taken care of… who the hell are you, and what are you doing with my daughter?” my dad says with mock seriousness. Then he smacks Ralph on the back so hard that he trips forward a few steps.
“I thought you said you told them I was coming,” he says under his breath once he regains his footing.
“I did...” Dramatic pause. “…not. I did not.”
“Lopey doesn’t tell us anything, but it’s no problem, we’re thrilled to have you. Hi. I’m Susan, Calliope’s mother. Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m Ralph. Calliope and I work together at the museum.”
“Ah!” Dad exclaims. “You into boning?”
“Excuse me?” Ralph coughs.
“Boning. My daughter is into boning. She’s a paleontologist. Get it?” He nudges Ralph in the rib cage a bit too hard.
Ralph gives a genuine chuckle. “I do, yeah, I get it. But no, Ken, I’m not a paleontologist. I’m an astronomer. I work in the planetarium.”
“Good for you! I know we’re all going to want to hear more about that around the dinner table. Come on, let’s head inside.”
We start walking toward the front door.
“I hope you like ham!” Mom sings. “Oh excuse me, I need to run in and take it out of the oven!”
