Page 83 of Canadian Boyfriend

“Maple syrup is not that big a thing here. The season is too short.”

“What do you mean the season is too short? Do maple trees have seasons?”

“They do for when the sap runs. You need a certain temperature differential between day and night. It’s not a long season anywhere, but Quebec is the major spot. Maybe Ontario, too.”

“How do you know so much about maple syrup if it’s mostly from other provinces?”

“Maple syrup is part of the elementary school curriculum. It’s nationally mandated.”

I was about to say, “Really?” when he added, “Your parents can write a note to get you out of it, but if they do that, you run the risk of having your Canadian citizenship revoked.”

“Ha ha.” It was funny, though. Mike Martin seemed extra jokey today. Maybe coming home made him feel lighter. I wondered what that was like.

I was a little nervous to meet Mike Martin’s parents, though I didn’t know why. They’d clearly raised a great human. I guess because I wanted them to like me? Or maybe it was more that I didn’t know how to act around happy, functional families who enjoyed spending time together.

His mom was waiting on the porch when we pulled into the driveway of a white bungalow. Initially she only had eyes for Olivia, and Olivia for her as she busted it out of the car and into her grandma’s arms. “Nana!”

Mike Martin’s mother smiled at him tearily from her embrace with Olivia. When she moved on to hugging her son, she peeked around his shoulder at me, smiled, and said, “You must be Aurora. Welcome.”

The plan had been to drop off Olivia and get me checked into a hotel. That had been a condition of my coming along. I knew their small house got crowded, and I felt like an interloper to begin with. But once the five-foot hurricane that was Diane Martin blew through, that was the end of my plan.

“Ed!” she hollered from the entryway, where we all took off our shoes. “They’re here!” A potbellied, grinning, white-haired man appeared.

“Pop!” Olivia scampered over and hugged him.

I barely had a chance to shake his hand before Diane was off down a hallway, beckoning us. “Olivia, I assume you want your Uncle Chris’s room as usual.”

“Yes!”

“She likes Chris’s room because it has a waterbed,” Mike Martin explained to me.

“Waterbed!” I exclaimed.

“Chris got a bee in his bonnet in high school and mowed about a thousand lawns and bought himself a literal waterbed,” Diane said with exasperated affection.

Mike Martin dropped Olivia’s bag and told her to unpack. The rest of us went on to the next room. “Aurora, you’re here,” Diane said.

“Oh no, I’m—”

“Mike, the sofa bed is made up in the basement. But I need it put back together before seven in the mornings when the kids start arriving.”

“No!” I whispered to Mike Martin as Diane left the room.

Diane popped her head back in. “Unless…” She looked between us impishly. I could see where Mike Martin got the spark in his eye. “You both want to sleep on the sofa bed?”

“That’s not… what’s happening,” I said.

“We’ll work it out,” Mike Martin said after his mom left again.

We did not work it out. We had a late dinner. Everyone talked a mile a minute. Except me, but I was content to listen to them talk about neighbors, reminisce about the backyard rink Ed used to build every winter, and make plans for the week ahead.

Eventually Diane started yawning. “I’m going to excuse myself. I have kiddos coming early tomorrow. Olivia is goingto help me while she’s here. We settled on five bucks an hour. Is that OK with you?” she asked Mike Martin.

“You’re the boss.”

“Let me clean up,” I said, rising from the table when Diane did.

“Oh no, Aurora, hon. Boys do the cleaning in my house.” She shot a look at Mike Martin. “Right?”

---