Part 19 (2/2)
”Why wait?” says my dad.
”Well, I was kinda wondering if I could have dinner with Taylor tonight . . .” I let this thought trail off, and check my parents' reactions. Disappointment flashes across my dad's face. My mom smiles wider, which I know is her way of masking what she really feels.
”But,” I say. ”I would hate to miss out on the I say. ”I would hate to miss out on the first artichokes of the season first artichokes of the season.”
My dad nods. ”It would be a shame.”
”And besides, I'm pretty sure that Taylor likes artichokes.”
My parents turn gleeful-both Dylan and and Taylor on the same day? They are in troubled-teen-parent heaven. Taylor on the same day? They are in troubled-teen-parent heaven.
”Dinner will be on the table at eight-fifteen,” my mom says, all princ.i.p.al now. ”Richard, trim some basil, will you? I just need to get out of these clothes.”
Back upstairs, I call Taylor.
”So,” I say when he answers. ”How do you feel about artichokes?”
”Artichokes?”
”The food.”
”My parents are kind of conventional vegetable people,” he says. ”You know, carrots, peas, corn . . . that sort of thing. I don't think I've ever had artichokes.”
”Well,” I say, scrunching my face up in nervousness. ”Tonight's your lucky night. Artichokes at my house.”
I hold my breath, wait to hear how he'll answer. Somehow, I know that if there's reluctance in his voice, I'll be crushed.
”They invited me?” he asks, and to my amazement, his voice sounds almost eager.
”Yeah.”
”Wait, but was it like, you asked them and they said, 'Okay, we didn't really plan for it so the servings might be small but if you really want him to come then go set another place at the table'? Or was it like, 'We'd really like to get to know Taylor better and it would make us really happy to have him for dinner'?”
He says this all hurried and I'm laughing even before he's finished.
”The second one.” I giggle. ”Definitely.”
”What time?”
”Eight.”
”Okay.” I hear movement, things rustling. ”s.h.i.+t, it's already past seven! I'll be right there.” And he hangs up.
He arrives a few minutes early, freshly showered like the last time he came over, and smelling like a bottle of cologne. My dad shakes his hand. My mom gives him a light hug. I think I see her trying not to choke, but I could be imagining it.
”Hey,” he says to me from four feet away. He lifts his hand in this stiff little wave.
”Hey,” I say back.
I want to kiss him.
When we're ready to eat, my mom, my dad, and I all sit in different places at the table. We're so used to being three-having a fourth person throws us off. So I sit on the side where my dad usually sits, and my mom sits across from me, instead of at the end, and my dad sits next to her, and Taylor sits next to me.
For a while there's a lot of small talk, but not the really awkward kind.
”Do you play any sports?” my dad asks.
”Not really,” Taylor says. ”I skate a little, though.”
”He means skateboarding,” I add real quick, so my parents won't make fools of themselves by asking about hockey or Rollerblading or something equally embarra.s.sing.
”We know,” my mom says teasingly.
Taylor loves the artichokes, and asks about their garden, and says that he would really like to learn how to grow vegetables.
”You're welcome to join us anytime,” my dad says. ”We're out there most evenings and on the weekends. Just come by.” He seems to have forgotten all about Taylor's less-than-perfect first impression.
Taylor says, ”Really? Awesome,” and it's all I can do not to reach over and touch him. He's so close. Did I mention I want to kiss him?
After we're through eating, I go to the kitchen and open the freezer.
”Serious problem,” I say. ”There's no dessert.”
Mom and Dad exchange looks.
”Do you two want to run to the store for some ice cream?”
”Sure,” I say, trying to sound casual. ”What kind do you want?”
”You choose,” my dad says.
As Taylor and I are leaving, my mom brushes past me. ”Straight to Safeway and back home, okay?” she whispers.
My face gets hot. ”Of course,” I hiss.
As soon as we get in the car, my hand is on Taylor's leg. I lean toward him.
”Wait!” he says. ”They might be watching!”
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