Terrific. The one time in the history of the world Diesel answers my phone, and it has to be my mother.
“Who was that man?” my mother asked. “I thought I had the wrong number.”
“He’s just a friend.”
“Oh?”
“Not that kind of friend,” I told her.
“I have a wonderful surprise,” she said. “Your father was selected to attend a seminar on public transportation customer relations in Boston tomorrow, and he’s on his way. Lou Dribbet was supposed to go, but he passed a kidney stone last night and wasn’t up to flying. It was all very sudden.”
“Dad’s flying?”
“Actually, he’s landed. I tried calling your cell phone all day, but you weren’t picking up.”
“My cell phone died, and I haven’t gotten a new one yet.”
“Well, he’s on his way. He should be at your house any minute now. He’s so excited. He’s going to spend the night with you and go to the seminar hotel tomorrow.”
“What? No! Not a good idea.”
“Why not? You have a guest bedroom.”
“I haven’t got a bed in
it.”
“He can sleep on the couch then. Goodness knows it won’t be the first time he’s had to sleep on the couch. Sometimes I can’t take the snoring. That man could wake the dead.”
The doorbell chimed, and I felt my heart constrict to the size of a raisin.
“I think Dad’s here,” I said to my mom. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up and focused on Diesel. “You have to go.”
“No.”
“YES!” I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and got into his face. “My father is at the door. He’s spending the night here, and he’s not going to like that you sleep in my bed.”
“Tell him we’re engaged.”
“We’re not engaged. And even if we were, it wouldn’t be good enough.”
“So tell him we’re married.”
“That’s insane!” I said. “And besides, I don’t have a ring.”
“Tell him you lost it. Tell him it slipped off into the mixing bowl when you were making sticky buns and someone took it home and ate it.”
The bell rang a second time, and I hurried to get the door before my father was completely drenched. “I’m begging you,” I yelled to Diesel as I ran. “Sneak out the back way.”
My father is a big man. Six foot tall and chunky. The family joke is that if he wasn’t driving a bus, he could be pulling one. He’s as strong as an ox, but he’s the family softy, crying over sad movie endings, a sucker for puppies and kittens, buying mushy Valentine’s Day cards for my mom. He’s completely not the disciplinarian in my family, but he wouldn’t put up with a man in my bed if there wasn’t a ring on my finger.
I found him hunched on my front stoop, holding a small yellow umbrella in one hand and a suitcase in the other. His rental car was parked at the curb.
“For a minute there, I was afraid you weren’t home,” he said, leaving the umbrella outside, stepping in with his suitcase.
“I was in the kitchen, talking to mom.”