I didn’t sleep at all the night before Thanksgiving. I was 25 years old, had never brought a boy home to meet the family, and Dylan hardly excelled at first impressions.
Dylan didn’t do small talk. He didn’t have the lightheartedness that allowed someone like Kyle to form quick, shallow, bonds. No one (other than Maria Rose and my other flirty cousins) would care that Dylan was cute. They’d just want to know if he was husband material. It took me weeks to realize just how solid a guy he was, that he wasn’t just some lazy bum dropout. Unfortunately, my family liked guys they could size up in five minutes or less.
Still, I had a plan. Dylan would clam up in big, group settings; his strength was one-on-one. We had to get there early, so he could meet my family little by little as they rolled in, before they turned into a mob. I didn’t tell him this, of course. Instead, I told him I wanted to get an early start to beat the holiday traffic. At 4 am, I gave up trying to sleep and treated myself to a hot shower in an attempt to calm my nerves. I picked up Dylan at 5:30 prompt. He got into the car and leaned over to give me a kiss, but when his lips were still a good six inches away, I blurted out, “What are you bringing my aunt?”
He stopped, still puckered. “Sorry?”
“What are you bringing Aunt Sofia?”
“Uh…”
I held his face in my hands as if I’d caught him sneaking Halloween candy. “You’ll be a guest at an Italian woman’s home. I don’t care if you have to take out a second mortgage on one of your buildings, you’re not showing up empty-handed.”
I’ll say one thing for Dylan, he knew when to hold his tongue. “Anything else I should know?”
“Let’s say the soup is too salty for your taste. My aunt asks you what you think of it. What do you say?”
“Uh…”
“You’re hopeless. Repeat after me, ‘It’s wonderful, may I please have some more?’”
Dylan rubbed my shoulder. “Take deep breaths, Amber. It’s going to be fine.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if it was at my house or Aunt Theresa’s. But Aunt Sofia is hosting this year. I can already hear her calling up my mother, ‘What kind of a man is this new boyfriend of Amber’s? He comes into my house empty-handed and starts telling me how to cook soup? I know Amber is desperate to get married, but surely she could do better than this.’”
Dylan laughed. “Since when are you desperate?”
“In Aunt Sofia’s eyes? The minute I turned 21 without a ring on my finger.”
Dylan softened his gaze to a look of pure pity. “I promise to do my best not to embarrass you. Any other instructions?”
“The men will act like they’re in charge, but don’t be fooled. Most of them could care less who I wind up with as long as I look happy. The women rule the roost. They’re the ones you need to impress.”
Dylan blinked. “I need to impress them?”
“They’re going to pick apart everything you do. Not the younger ones; my cousins are fine. To be safe, don’t talk to any woman over forty without me.” Part of me hated to stoop to this level, another part was desperate. “But you can’t ignore them either or they’ll take it as a slight. The women will gather in the kitchen and dining room. You’ll come in with me, and I’ll tell you what to say to each of them. After ten minutes, I stay behind, and you can go watch football with the men.”
“You know I’m not such a big football fan, right?”
“You are today.” I patted his cheek. “Football on Thanksgiving is a tradition or something. Trust me, you can watch the game, drink a beer, munch on some chips, and be largely ignored. That’s your safe zone.”
“Is there a team I should root for?”
“I don’t know who’s playing. Just cheer for whoever everyone else is cheering for.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Your family sounds like a lot of fun.”
“They’re the best. I love my family. You will too. Trust me. It’s just this first time. My family judge people quickly and are slow as molasses to change their minds. Make a good impression this weekend, and you’ll never have to worry about them again. They’ll come to love you for who you are. Eventually.”
“But for now…”
“You give them nothing to find fault with, or you’ll never hear the end of it.”
As we reached the end of the four-hour drive, I quizzed Dylan. “Aunt Theresa.”
“Very into her clothes. Be sure to compliment something she’s wearing.”
“Good. Aunt Viola.”
“Obsessed with her grandkids, especially her three-year-old twin grandsons. Let her see me playing with them.”
“Yes! You remembered the twins.” I gave him a high-five. “Aunt Sophia.”
“She’s the worst cook among the sisters and is terribly sensitive about it. She’s also hosting this year, so she’ll have cooked the most. You’ll snoop around the kitchen to find out what dishes she prepared, and I’ll make sure to compliment them and ask for seconds.”
“Grandma Maria.” I thought with pride that I’d make a good drill sergeant.
“She’s the matriarch. She’ll take the longest to form her opinion. She can be swayed by her daughters, which is why I need to make good impressions with some of your aunts. But her sons won’t say much, and she could care less what their wives think. It’s rare she and her daughters disagree, but if they do, all but one will bend to her will.”
“Which brings us to the last of her daughters, my mom.”
“Your mom is too invested in your welfare to be impressed by empty compliments. She wants to see that I treat you well, that I’m attentive, and that I’m able to support a family.”
I bit my lip. That last one was going to be a problem. I couldn’t bring it up to Dylan without him explaining how well he’d prepared for his financial future, but my mother was never going to buy his crazy plans.
We were among the first to arrive. That was good. If Dylan made a good impression on whoever was already there, he could lay low, and the new arrivals would hear the gossip before they met him. That way, they’d already be positively disposed toward him. If the first impressions were bad, we’d need to hang out by the entranceway, maybe even be sitting and talking on the driveway. That way, each new person would meet him and form their own opinions before they heard about him from anyone else.
We parked on the street in front of the house. Dylan pulled a big bouquet out of the back seat. He’d spent $75 without a word of objection. I owed him for that one. Aunt Sophia answered the door and immediately enveloped me. Over my shoulder, I felt her eyes drifting towards Dylan. When we separated, he said, “I’m Dylan. Thank you so much for inviting me for Thanksgiving.”
A little stiff, but not too bad.
“These are for you,” he added, holding out the bouquet.
“Oh please, you needn’t have brought me anything.”
Yeah, right.
Dylan’s eyes panned the foyer looking for something to compliment, but Lord knows Aunt Sofia didn’t make it easy, with all those gaudy pictures of angels on the wall. “What a beautiful home you have.”
“Why thank you, Dylan. Can I get you something to drink? We have coffee, tea, beer, and a pot of hot cider I just finished making.”
“The hot cider sounds wonderful,” he said. Smart move.
“Coming right up.”
I gave Dylan a reassuring squeeze of his arm. So far, so good.
Dylan listened to Uncle Pauli’s war stories. He wasn’t much of a small talker, but that boy knew how to listen. And as long as he was listening, he couldn’t put his foot in his mouth.
Then a miracle happened. Aunt Theresa went to plug in a second coffee maker to keep up with the demand. She’d found an old one in the basement, that probably hadn’t been used since the last time Aunt Sofia hosted Thanksgiving. She had only halfway plugged it in when a pop echoed through the kitchen, and the power went out.
Aunt Sofia looked daggers at Aunt Theresa, as if it was her fault that Aunt Sofia still had that old piece of junk lying around. “And Joe just went out for more beers,” Aunt Sofia said. “It could be an hour before he gets back and gets the power back on.”
Dylan happened to be in the kitchen, getting himself a third mug of my aunt’s hot cider. “I can fix that for you.”
“Oh no, please. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Joe knows how to fix it. He’ll see to it when he gets back.”
I had to grab the moment. “Dylan knows all about electricity from maintaining the properties he owns, don’t you, Dylan.”
Dylan sent me a quizzical look. He and I both knew his job, rather than his properties, had trained him to deal with electricity. Fortunately, he was smart enough not to object. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Well, if you know what you’re doing…” Aunt Sofia gripped his arm, and I could tell she was trying to feel his muscles. She always ogled the pimped-up Italian men in the underwear commercials. “Come, I’ll show you where the box is in the basement.”
Dylan followed her, and a moment later, the power went on. Aunt Theresa put a hand to her chest. “My, he is quite handy, isn’t he?”
“Oh yes.” I stood a little taller.
“Well, Dylan,” Aunt Sofia said loud enough for all to hear. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.” I thanked the angels she didn’t smack his butt.
“Good job,” I whispered to him. “Now go disappear and watch football with the boys before you do anything to screw it up.”
Trouble started around 3 pm.
Neither my parents nor Grandma Maria had arrived. I sat with my youngest sister Josephine, hearing about her latest boy problems when she broke off her diatribe about Chad and laid a manicured hand on my knee. “Don’t look now, but Dylan is talking to Aunt Sofia.”
What was he doing? He knew the plan. He’d made a strong first impression; now he just needed to blend in and watch football. How hard was that? What kind of guy couldn’t be trusted to watch football on Thanksgiving?
Breathe, I told myself as I made my way as quickly as I could without drawing everyone’s attention. But by the time I reached them, it was already too late.
“You know, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about being a dropout,” Aunt Sofia was saying.
Why? Why did Dylan have to tell her he’d left school? Was it so hard to tell people about his real estate investments and shut his mouth about that stupid Cash Machine? Didn’t he realize that no one would grasp his logic during a two-minute holiday conversation? I grabbed Dylan’s arm, in a way I hoped would look affectionate, but gave him gentle tugs to indicate we needed to get away from this conversation. And fast. But once Aunt Sofia had her hooks in someone, she wasn’t one to let go.
“Two of my boys were also dropouts. Eddie, Lord bless his soul.” She gulped down a cheek-full of wine. “He was never from the thinkers, if you know what I mean. At least he tried. Unlike Jimmy.” Aunt Sofia’s face fell. “Jimmy could never keep it in his pants, if you know what I mean. If that boy went to class twenty times during his two years in college, it would be a miracle. $60,000 we spent sending him to school, and all we got out of it were headaches and a paternity suit.”
I pulled Dylan’s arm even harder, but the guy worked with his hands all day. He was solid as a mountain. And apparently as thick as one too if he wasn’t getting the hint.
“But what’s your excuse?” Aunt Sophia smacked his face in a way only an Italian would call loving. “You seem bright enough, and obviously, you’re not one of those guys who just thinks with your hormones, or you’d never go for a girl like Amber.” She nudged me so hard I lost my balance. “The boys just looking for a good time usually wind up with her cousin, Maria Rose.”
I swear, this woman has no filter.
Dylan rested his hand on mine, which was still gripping his bicep for dear life. “Maria Rose. Was she that tall blond one you introduced me to?”
“Oh no,” Aunt Sofia said. “You’re thinking of Maria Victoria. That Maria’s out of your league. Maria Rose is over there.” She pointed to my cousin, who, despite the chill November weather, wore a mini skirt and tank top that barely held her in.
When she saw us staring at her, Maria Rose smiled flirtatiously and waved to Dylan.
My aunt forced Dylan’s face back towards her as if to imply he was looking where he shouldn’t be (even though she pointed him there). She didn’t even whisper when she added, “You’d think she’d at least insulate her breasts for winter…”
Dylan gulped, but otherwise let the comment go. “There are a lot of Marias in your family.”
“All named after my mother, of course. I’m the only one without a Maria, and that’s just because I had all boys. But you chose well, Dylan.” She pinched my cheek so hard, my whole head shook. “Maria Ambrosia has a special place in my heart. She’d be the spitting image of my dead sister Isabella if she wasn’t so flabby in the thighs.”
I tugged Dylan’s arm harder this time, no longer worrying about subtlety. He finally got the hint and followed me away. There was nowhere we could talk privately inside with relatives everywhere, so I dragged him out the front door and toward the car. I had steam bulging out of every orifice, but Dylan had the audacity to giggle the entire way.
“Maria Ambrosia?” he asked once we were out of earshot.
“Ugh.” I smacked his chest, which was so hard, I bet he didn’t feel a thing. I wanted to leave a bruise. “Didn’t I tell you to lay low and watch football with the guys?”
“You also told me to be attentive and complimentary to your Aunt.”
“Only when I’m with you. I told you not to talk to any woman in my family over forty without me present.” I threw my hands up in exasperation and paced wildly in front of him. “Why’d you have to go telling her you dropped out of school?”
Dylan’s composure grew stern. “I did drop out of school, Amber. I’m not embarrassed by it. I still say it was the smartest choice I ever made.”
Poor thing. He was doing the best he could, and here I was raging at him. I still felt like a fiery engine but tried to keep myself from blowing. “I know Dylan, but your reasoning is complex.” I adjusted his shirt collar and removed a cracker crumb from his chest. “It’s not the sort of thing my family will process over snippets of holiday conversations. Keep things simple. Just tell them you’re in real estate. You own several apartment buildings, and you’re looking to invest in several more.” I grinned my sappiest, most pitiful smile. “That’s simple. They can understand that.”
“I work on a remodeling crew, Amber.” His voice remained calm, but I could feel the frustration rising in his chest. “I don’t feel the need to hide what I do. I’m sorry if it embarrasses you.”
“It doesn’t embarrass me because I know why you do it and what you’re hoping to build. But my family won’t get it. Not initially. Just like it took me a long time to get it.” In some ways, I still didn’t fully get it. I took a deep breath.
“Even your aunt said it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I shoved him in the chest. “And then she compared you to her two loser sons, one of whom still lives at home at 31, and the other who’s working as a janitor. The only reason she told you not to be embarrassed is because she assumes that anyone dropping out of school ought to be embarrassed. Otherwise, she wouldn’t try to placate you. But as much as she tries to sound magnanimous, she’ll be singing a different tune when gossiping with her sisters. Couldn’t you just sit with the guys and have a good time?”
“Football isn’t my thing. Besides, if I want a good time, it sounds like I shouldn’t be with you at all.” He bobbed his head and batted his eyelashes. “Perhaps I should call Maria Rose.”
I punched him in the arm. “Some good times are worth waiting for, you know.”
“I thought so as well. But something tells me that Maria Rose won’t care that I’m a dropout.”
I ran my hand through my hair. My family wouldn’t get Dylan, not right away. All I wanted was for them to like him, and over time, they’d come to see what an amazing guy he was. But I was so focused on them, I’d hardly thought at all about him. He always seemed so tough, so resilient. I figured he’d roll with all the coaching. But what had I conveyed? That I was embarrassed by him. That I didn’t want my family to see the real Dylan. That I didn’t think he could represent himself or share the things that he cared about.
I looked up at him with tears running down my face. I owed this amazing man an apology. I ought to stand proudly by his side for the rest of the holiday, then take him home and show him the affection he deserved, show him he could have a good time even with me. A great time even, because with me, it would be real, and I would make it all worth the wait. But before I could say a word, a voice called out behind me.
“Amber?”
I’d know that voice anywhere. Dad. Of all times to show up. I turned to see my father, my mother, and Grandma Maria all watching us. I quickly wiped the tears from my cheeks.
“Amber, is everything all right?” My father said.
“Mom, Dad, Grandma Maria, I’d like you all to meet my boyfriend, Dylan.” I took his arm again, but he gently drew it away, not fully out of my grasp—he’d never embarrass me as I’d embarrassed him—but enough so that I knew.
“Pleased to meet you, Dylan.” My father held out a hand, but his gaze was guarded. Nothing provokes an Italian man more than seeing his daughter cry.
Mom looked right past him. “Amber, is that your car? Were you in an accident?” She grabbed my hand. “Are you OK?”
The car. The stupid car. I’d gotten so used to the dent I barely spared it any mind. How could I be so dumb? It would have been so easy to rent a new car for the drive.
“I’m fine, Ma. I bought the car that way.” I hugged her. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
I kissed Dad and Grandma Maria on both cheeks, and we all walked back into the house. All my careful planning had blown up in my face. How could I repair the damage either with my family or with Dylan?
I’d tried to be the dutiful girlfriend and stay by Dylan’s side the rest of the day, but the situation spiraled out of control. My parents wanted to talk. They wanted to hear about the car and especially about the guy. I told them everything, but I didn’t do a good job of explaining. Like I’d told Dylan, these weren’t concepts I could convey in sound-bites, especially to those predisposed against them. After walking in on us in the middle of a fight, they’d heard Aunt Sophia blab, “I have to tell you, I’m surprised your bright daughter’s dating a college drop-out who’s working some manual labor job. Maria Rose, that’s one thing, but our Maria Ambrosia? I would’ve thought she’d want a guy with ambition.” I was done for.
Dad was a trial attorney, and cross-examination was his specialty. He asked me clear, pointed questions, and I didn’t hold back. They learned Dylan didn’t own a car, had never once taken me out to eat, and lived in some basement apartment. I explained that he owned the entire building he lived in, as well as two others. I told them how great he’d been to me, and though they nodded without interruption while I rose to his defense, everything I said fell on deaf ears. Dad’s sister, Aunt Vicky, used to invent all sorts of excuses for her abusive husband, and it took Dad years to convince her to finally walk out on him. My excuses now would have no more impact than Aunt Vicky’s did all those years ago, because nothing I said would shake his first image of us together: the two of us fighting while I cried in the driveway.
Then they found out about the house I’d bought. The one closing in three weeks. The one I’d invited Dylan to move into with me. My mother elbowed my father. Dad stepped closer. “It’s been too long since we’ve paid you a visit. There’s more going on in your life than we’ve understood in our recent calls.” He patted me on the head the way he did in middle school. “That’s very exciting news about buying a house. We’ll come see it for ourselves.”
I swallowed hard.
“Before you close,” Dad added. My heart fell to my knees.
We’d originally planned to stay the night, me at my parents and Dylan at Aunt Sofia’s, but we decided to make the long drive back home instead. I apologized to Dylan profusely on our way back, but he, like Mom and Dad, didn’t want to listen. We drove in eerie silence. To try to break the tension, I said, “When I was with my parents, you seemed to be having a fairly intense conversation with my cousin Lorenzo.”
For the first time on the drive, a smile came to Dylan’s lips. “He asked if I needed money to buy a ring.”
That was the final proof I needed. Everyone in my family was convinced Dylan was a loser who couldn’t get it together. “He actually offered to give you money to buy me a ring?”
“Give? Oh, no, no. Lend. ‘Very reasonable terms,’ he said.”
