Just Roll With It: a Just Us novel (12 page)

We're still finishing our last coffee when my phone rings. I know immediately who it is because only three people ever call me, and two of them are with me.

"Hi, Mom."

She asks me how I am doing, and where I'm at, and If I am still with Roman. The usual from her nosey, yet loving self.

"Fine. Good, actually. I'm having coffee, and yes still am."

"Oh, how great, honey. Make sure you invite him to your birthday dinner Saturday then!" she says through the receiver loud enough I'm afraid everyone heard.

"Dinner next Saturday, okay. One week from today, gotcha. I will. I will, Mother, I promise, but I've got to go now. Love you, bye."
Please nobody have heard her, please.

"So when were you going to tell me your birthday was coming up?" Roman asks with a stern face.

"Well, we just started dating so I didn't want to burden you with the awkward, new girlfriend, birthday scenario. Really, I was looking out for you." I smile hopefully convincing him of its unimportance.

"I'm totally in."

"What?" I about spit my coffee.

"For dinner Saturday. I believe I was invited, was I not?" he knowingly asks.

"That's how I heard it," Lyle pipes in uninvited.

"Well, yes. But, don't feel obligated."

My argument is brazenly interrupted by the piercing shrill of Lyle's vocal acoustics. "No way! Super fine waitress from yesterday is texting me right now. What should I say? I think I'll send a smiley. Bitches love smilies."

"True dat," Enzo adds casually, still thoroughly engaged in his caboodle of boxes.

"Bitches love smilies, good to know, and oh so relevant," I say sarcastically. "And on those abrupt words of wisdom—" I direct my attention back to Roman "—you've only met my mom once, and only by accident. Also, you have no idea what you'd be getting yourself into with Grandpa Joe."

"It's cool, it'll be fun. C'mon, roll with it."

Of all that's been spoken, this is the comment that causes Enzo to abandon his crossword and rejoin social civilization.

After a good long laugh, Enzo looks at me and echoes, "Yeah, Bee. Just roll with it."

Rolling with it,
is not something I am accustomed to. I can probably chuck some of it up to home life. You know how when people
find God
? Yeah, well this was sort of the opposite of that. My mother and brother found pot. When the medical marijuana law was passed in our state, they conveniently had these new ailments and pains and needed a certain "medication". As for my grandpa Joe, it's not that he's not insane, because he is, he's just not stoned for it.

I am the exact opposite of the rest of my family, straight-laced to the bone. It may have been my own form of rebellion, I was Miss Goody Two Shoes, and I drove them nuts. I played by all of the rules, a real Miss Prude. I was teased constantly. They were relentless.

I don't care anymore. I am an adult now. I know I sound like I'm trying to convince myself, but it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. When I turned eighteen, I started doing the things most kids did in middle school, like break a rule or two. Stupid shit like jaywalking. Because, let’s face it, I am still an ardent rule follower. I even started having a drink or two when I turned twenty. To me, I was acting scandalous.

I'm from a family who believes the rules don't apply to them. They are never worried about anything. Just simple, laid back people. I wish on every bone in me I could be like them. However, I can't lie to myself, or anyone else for that matter. I am, who I am. Although, I do have one exception: I swear like a goddamn sailor. It's liberating as shit, and it fucking comforts me. 

She was right. I have no idea what I'm getting myself into with her grandpa, but I refuse to be someone I'm not. 

We decide to meet at Olive Garden for my birthday dinner. Roman and I ride together to meet up with my grandpa and mom. My brother, Evan, is driving separate as well. To say I am nervous is an understatement. Looking at Roman driving right now, though, he doesn't look nervous at all. If he's not, then I shouldn't be nervous, right? No, because he is oblivious to what we're stepping into here. He doesn't know how crazy my family can be, and if he did, I think he would be a little more distressed, and a little less bobbing his head, lip syncing and tapping his fingers on the wheel to the rhythm of Bad Religion's "I'm Going for a Walk" as if everything is right in the world.

Roman actually showed up at my apartment wearing a t-shirt with the band name "Fucking Gnarly" written across the front. When I asked him about it, he proudly proclaimed how "Fucking Gnarly" is a buddy of his' band and told me about how he got the t-shirt for free. That's great and all, but did it really not cross his mind how the shirt might not be the most totally appropriate to wear for the first time meeting my family? The answer is no.

When I mentioned that little piece, a beam of recognition hit his eyes. I could tell the thought didn't even cross his mind. After a moment of deep consideration, he still didn't think it was a big enough deal but reluctantly agreed to throw a button-up of Enzo's in the car to put on over his greatly inappropriate t-shirt when we get there. Only to appease me, I'm sure.

"Do you smoke?"

"Grandpa!" I yell.

He completely ignores me and continues on with his line of questioning.

"Pot or cigarettes?"

"Both."

"Yes."

"To which?"

"Both."

Sometimes in a situation, the most appropriate thing to say is OMG. As soon as we sat down at the table Grandpa Joe started his questions. No hi, hello, I'm Grandpa Joe, nice to meet you. Oh, no, not my family. And of course, Mom does nothing to stop the horrific event from spiraling out of control. Instead, she sits back and watches, most amused. I should ask Olive Garden if they serve popcorn. Evan just sits there looking glad the attention's not on him. What do they say about first impressions? I don't remember, but I hope it's not important because based on Grandpa Joe's bombardation, and Roman forgetting Enzo's button-up shirt in the car, my birthday is now bound to be a clusterfucking shitstorm. At least I'm officially old enough to guzzle down this wine in public.

Roman seems determined to be honest about everything. He said something along the lines of "always being himself no matter what" or some shit like that.
Perfect
. I wind up with what is probably the last man on the face of the planet who has unwavering identity morals. I'm totally cool with him lying his fabulous face off to Grandpa Joe, and I even told him so. But, oh no, he has to be Mr. Noble to a fault.

I can't stop looking at his shirt. It's so ridiculous, but he is so hot right now with his bad boy look and his unwavering confidence, I would probably jump him right here. I'm imagining it now, me crawling over the table, accidentally knocking the displayed bottle of wine over. But, I don't care. I let the liquid color the tablecloth red because all I care about is ripping his shirt off with my teeth so I can bite on his rock hard abs while I wonder how fast it will take him to make me ….

"Do you believe in God?"

"No."

And lady boner gone. Yeah, if not for Grandpa giving him the third, and being in the middle of a corporate American chain restaurant. Fucking Gnarly!
More like fucking kill me.

"Do you drink?"

"Yeah."

"What are your intentions with my granddaughter?"

"I really don't know yet, sir. I've only been dating her a week." Well, isn't that an honest bitch.

"Good."

What? Why is that good?

"And what are you studying in school?" he continues.

"I am an accounting major, but I have been a working engineer for Sparling Industries going on five years now."

"I didn't know that," I immediately interrupt in a voice more whiney than intended.

"Yeah, I work on and off during school. So I'm currently off, until I get a call saying my expertise is decidedly needed." Then he winks.

Shocked to hear some company would be in need of Roman’s know-how, the only thing I can say is, "Oh."

"He's jesting you, honey." Grandpa Joe and him snicker at my apparent naiveté.

They smile at each other like old pals.
What the hell is happening here?

Back to ignoring me, they proceed to chat about business stuff I don't understand or care about. I lean toward my mom and whisper just that.

"What the fuck is happening, Mom? I can't tell, but it looks to be going kinda good. Like, he is making an okay impression."

"It appears so," my mom says, smiling. "Were you really worried?"

"Yes. I really like him."

"We can tell, sweetie. He seems like a very nice boy."

"He does? No, he doesn't?" I ask with genuine curiosity.

"Well, no, but …"

"See I knew it!" I almost shout, causing Grandpa Joe, Roman, and Evan to all stop what they are doing and look at me. Not wanting to give away what my mom and I were talking about, I shrug, and then they go back to their man discussion.

"It doesn't matter what he looks like or what he wears. Or even what we think of him, because, honey, it is clear you like him. More than most. Plus, at least we know he's … um … an honest person."

"Yeah." I snort out loud at the obvious.

"Honesty is an important characteristic to have and acknowledge," my mom starts to say.

"Out of everything, honesty and integrity are at the foundation of a happy and healthy relationship. They are values not to underestimate, Bee. Values of which directly contribute to trust and growth in any relationship. Your grandfather can sense such a quality in him already, and that is what you are seeing. Or, to answer your question, that is what the fuck is happening right now," she says.

Touché
.

I happen to live for the rare moments I actually feel normal, and right now becomes one of them. At dinner with my family, my boyfriend, and father figure interrogating the shit out of the boyfriend. This is standard protocol for the conventional meet the parents. For once, my life is ordinary.

"Fucking Gnarly right on!" I hear Grandpa Joe shout out.

Okay, well, almost ordinary.

We all finish up eating our unhealthy portions of pasta, and I feel like dinner couldn't have gone better. Roman made a good impression, the food was fine, everyone joked and talked and had a good time. At one point, Mom accidentally spilled an entire glass of Coke on the table, and floor, and maybe a bit on Roman's lap. Then she blamed it on him when the waitress came over. "Um, excuse me, Miss? Can you get Roman here a new glass of soda? He seems to have spilled his." Her exact words.

Roman was mortified at first. It was hilarious. If that's not a welcome to the family I don't know what is. So between my grandpa grilling and my mom spilling, I feel like it's time to wrap my dinner up. As I turn to tell them we're heading out, I see the entire wait staff and a chocolate cake adorned with candles heading our way.

I happen to hate the forced happy birthday singing and the embarrassment of having all eyes on you, but free chocolate cake never harmed anyone so, I guess the cake can stay. I'm taking my embarrassment out on a large fork full of chocolatey yumminess, when Roman hands me a small birthday bag I never noticed.
How did I not see the bag? When did he bring a bag in? Is it possible I missed him carrying a bag because I was so strung out and nervous about the dinner?
It's possible.