“Is that a good idea?” I asked, handing her the plate of tacos. She didn’t wait before sticking one in her mouth and speaking as the shell fell apart and onto the plate.
“Yes,” she said. “I made them promise to be on their best behavior, and we can leave whenever we want to.”
“Alright,” I said. “That will work. I’ll make sure to bring the chips.”
Becca stuck her tongue out at me, and I grabbed her, pulling her in for a kiss while she giggled. When our lips broke apart, I stole a bite of her taco, and she got a shocked expression on her face before chasing me out of the kitchen and into the living room.
32
Becca
“Are you ready?” I asked as I clutched the doorknob of my parents’ front door.
Tyler nodded and took a deep breath. I took one, too, and turned the knob, swinging the door open to a scene much more raucous than I was expecting. Dad was in the living room, cracking open a beer and toasting a friend of his who sat on the couch. Several other friends were roaming the house, and the barbeque in the back was smoking, Nick with an apron on, fanning the smoke away. Another of Dad’s friends was out there with him, using a towel to fan at the flames, which only made them worse. I could also just barely see into the kitchen where Mom and two of Dad’s friends’ wives were giggling and sipping wine.
“Becca!” Mom said as she saw me and came walking with her arms outstretched. She didn’t look tipsy just yet, but she was almost there. She pulled me into a hug, and I patted her back. “And Tyler! So good to see you,” she said as she pulled him in for a hug, too. He grinned at me over her shoulder as he patted her back.
“Good to see you again, too, Mrs. Watson,” he said.
“Oh you stop with that Mrs. Watson stuff,” she said. “Just call me Diana. Or Mom.”
“Mom!” I said, shocked.
“What? I’m just trying to be supportive,” she said, grinning and turning away from us to head back to the kitchen. We followed behind waving at Dad’s friends as they passed. Dad had disappeared onto the back porch to join the firefighting attempt.
“What’s going on out there?” Tyler asked. “Should I go help?”
“No, no,” Mom said, waving them off. “Your brother just burned some tilapia. I keep telling him he can’t cook fish to save his life, but he keeps trying. Good thing I have potato salad.”
She turned suddenly, holding the bowl out to me, and I felt my stomach do a flip. I put up my hand and stopped her.
“No, thanks,” I said. “Maybe in a little bit. We just had a little lunch.”
“We did?” Tyler mumbled beside me, and I elbowed him in the rib. I didn’t think Mom heard him over the sound of motherly disappointment causing an audible whimpering sound at my refusal.
“Well,” she said, sitting the bowl back down, “it’s here when you want it. Can I get you a glass of wine? Tyler, they have beer in a cooler on the porch.”
“I’ll just have a water, actually. I’m parched,” I said.
“Oh,” Mom said and turned to grab a glass. “Here you go, honey.” She filled the glass with water from the filter on the tap and handed it to me. A thin smile spread across her face, and she kissed my cheek. “I had better go check on your father and brother and let them know you’re here.”
As she walked away, I sipped my water and my stomach settled a bit. The potato salad was out, but the herb crackers on the plate beside it were fair game, and I dug into a few of them. Tyler followed Mom outside, and I watched through the glass door as he shook hands with both Nick and my father. Dad offered him a beer, and he cracked it open, clinking cans with Dad before Dad walked back inside. I walked over to hug him.
“Happy Birthday, Daddy,” I said, squeezing him.
“Thank you, darling,” he said. “How are you and Tyler getting along?”
“Really good,” I said, surprised. “I thought you were against us dating?”
“I am for you being safe and happy,” he said. “But you are an adult and can make decisions for yourself. As long as you are okay, then I guess I’m okay.”
My heart filled, and I wrapped him in a hug again, nearly spilling the water down his shirt. He patted my back and kissed the top of my head before going into the kitchen and making excuses as to why he absolutely needed to make a sandwich. None of which included his son butchering the tilapia that he was still outside mourning.
The party continued on, and things were going well. Mom eventually made the executive decision to call for a few pizzas, which Dad was excited about. When they arrived, we all tucked in to eat around the dining room table. Nick sat across from Tyler, and they seemed to be getting along like old times, and Mom and Dad were handling him being there with me, holding my hand or kissing my head occasionally just fine. I was beginning to feel a kernel of hope that maybe, if I just gave it a little bit of time, the news of our impending family addition would go over well.