Chapter 42

We didn't have a plan.

We knew whatever we did would amount to an attack on my Father's image, his ego.

We had no idea how long it would take. He was a very stubborn man, used to getting his way.

School was starting a little over a month after Jeff's birthday so if I didn't broach the subject soon, it wouldn't happen until Thanksgiving.

I got the chance eight days after the birthday celebration. Dad set up a family dinner to discuss whether June in Europe had been relaxing enough or if we needed a week or two in Hilton Head.

"I'd kind of like to stay here, Dad. I have a boyfriend and I didn't see him for a whole month while we were in Europe."

"You didn't say anything about a boyfriend," said my Mother.

"Not only that, you talked about those other boys as possible husbands. Was that all a lie?" he thundered.

He was on the edge. How far do I take it?

If he's ready to go over the deep end at the slightest provocation, maybe I should hit him with it all at once.

He'll go ballistic if I'm dating him. He'll go ballistic if I'm marrying him. They both cost the same.

"He told me to have a great time over there, to meet people and see how I felt when I got back."

Overstated a mite, perhaps, but emotionally accurate enough.

"But you had a commitment to him when you went that you never told us about. You lied to us!"

Now the staff in the farthest reaches of the house knew the content of our disagreement.

Alright, you want the maximum escalation immediately? Well, in your face.

"There was no commitment. We hadn't decided to get married back then."

Mom dropped her fork. Dad couldn't shut his mouth. He didn't say anything, but it stayed open.

While he prepared his next attack, my Mother got involved. "Do you love him?"

"No. I agreed to marry him just to annoy the shit out of you."

"You can't talk to us that way," bellowed my Father.

At least it wasn't about Jeff, directly.

"And you can't disrespect my thoughts and feelings that way. He is the most wonderful man I've ever met and you're acting like he's a terrorist."

My family is given to hyperbole.

"Get him over here for dinner so we can meet him," he said.

It wasn't so loud but it wasn't remotely conciliatory either. He looked at my Mother.

"Do we have anything scheduled tomorrow night?"

"No," she answered.

"Have him here tomorrow night for dinner. Six sharp," he ordered.

"Gee, how could he possibly refuse such a gracious, generous, sincere invitation?" I said.