Almost Married

“There you are, Waldo,” Chris said, coming down the stairs. She wore a purple velvet jogging suit, her usual attire when she wasn't working as a nurse.

He ignored her teasing about his glasses because he wanted to talk to her later about Steph. “Hey. After I eat, let's go for a drive.” They still had a couple of hours before they had his grandmother’s birthday dinner and cake.

“I'd love to get out of this place,” Chris said.

“I heard that,” their mom said from the sofa where she’d picked up her crochet—another blanket. He hoped it wasn't for him. He already had three in his closet.

“I've been here for two days.” Chris threw up her hands. “I'm starting to feel like a shut-in.”

Chris was thirty-two and had recently gone through a bitter divorce. Since then, she frequently spent her weekends off back home.

Their mom gestured to the door with her crochet needle. “So go, what do I care?”

“Ma, don't be like that,” Chris said, throwing an arm around him. “It's just sibling bonding time.”

Their mom smiled. “You two are close now that you're grown up. Didn't I tell you he wouldn't always be an annoying little twerp?”

“Yeah, you did.” Chris reached up to ruffle his hair, and he smoothed it back in place. “Now he's just an annoying big twerp.”

He scooped her up and turned her upside down.

“Aah! Put me down!”

“Not unless you call me King Dave for the rest of the day.”

“Never!”

“I can stand here all day.” He glanced down. Her face was turning an interesting shade of red.

“Okay! Put me down, King Dave!”

He set her back upright on the floor. She immediately kicked him in the shin. “Ow!”

“Children!” his mom said.

He limped into the kitchen. Nonna piled a plate with leftover roast beef and a side of ziti and put it in the microwave. He dug in a few minutes later at the small kitchen table.

Chris sat across from him and watched him eat. “You know we’re having manicotti and cake in two hours.”

“If the boy wants to eat, let him eat,” Nonna said as she covered the leftover food with aluminum foil.

“Where do you put it all?” Chris asked. “You're always thin.”

He chewed for a moment. “I run.”

She scoffed. “I run too. If I just look at pasta, I gain five pounds.”

“High metabolism?”

“You suck.”

He pointed his fork at her. “You suck, King Dave.”

She snorted.

“It wouldn't hurt you to put a little meat on your bones, Christina Marie,” Nonna said. “Men like curves.”

“I got curves,” Chris said. “I don't need love handles.”

“More to love,” Dave quipped.

He finished the meal, thanked his grandmother, and pulled out his car keys. “Let's go.”

Chris slid into the passenger side of his Ford Fusion Hybrid—he loved its fuel efficiency—and promptly changed the radio to a top-forty station. He didn't even change it back to National Public Radio (though NPR was doing a fascinating segment on game theory as it applied to online algorithms). Nothing could spoil his mood now that he was in love with someone that loved him back.

“I met someone,” he told her.

“Seriously?”

He glanced at her. It shouldn't have been that shocking. He wasn’t an ogre.

“Yes, seriously,” he said. “Her name is Stephanie Moore. She's a fifth grade teacher. I'm crazy about her. I'm thinking of proposing.”

“Whoa, slow down there. How long have you been dating?”

“Six weeks. I love her. She said she loves me too.”

“Six weeks isn't very long. How well do you know her?”

He stopped at a stop sign and gestured to some kids to cross the street. “I'm thirty years old. I know what I want. I know she's the one. Do you think the Diamond District is open today?” It was Sunday, but some of the shops might be open. New York City was hopping every day of the week.

“It's too soon to shop for diamonds! You're rushing things. Just because you sleep with someone doesn't mean you have to run out and buy them a ring. I sure never got that.”