“Older or younger,” I ask. Other than the initial mentions of her mom wanting me to come to dinner and her brother who we have talked about before, I know a lot about them, but I want her to tell me everything. I can’t believe I haven’t asked before now.
“Younger. Wine or beer?” she asks.
“Beer is fine,” I reply, carrying the salad and basket of bread to the little eat-in booth I have in the kitchen. She already has it set. Going back, I take the bowls of pasta she has dished up to the table while she brings a glass of wine and a bottle of beer to the table.
“Younger? By how much?”
“Four years. She is my best friend. Still a senior in high school. She helped me move all my stuff in from Atlantic City.”
“That’s nice. And your brother?”
“Well, I have two. Brando is the oldest. He is in bonds. Bartolo is in tech. He does something with microchips, maybe,” she says, laughing.
“And your parents?”
“Fabrizio and Fawn. They’ve been married thirty-six years next month. My mom is a housewife and Dad is in business with my uncle.” I can sense her hesitation when she talks about that business, now and with the douche who delivered her stuff, so I leave it alone. I do not want her to be uncomfortable with me. I also don’t want her to know that I know.
“They sound lovely. I would like to meet them,” I tell her. Her face pales, and she drops her fork.
“Really?”
“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I want to meet them?”
“So soon?”
“You met mine already.”
“Very true. Okay. I will call my mom after dinner,” she replies, going back to her meal.
“Sounds good,” I say, digging into the feast she has prepared. In truth, she cooked every night this week and had it ready for me when I got home. That is something a man can get used to.
“Oh, I have a job interview next week,” she says excitedly.
“You do? I did not know that you were job hunting already. Where at?” I ask.
“Ballet Prep. They need a History teacher.”
“Teaching?” I ask, surprised.
“We didn’t talk about that?” she asks, furrowing her brow.
“No. I would have remembered that.”
“Oh, well. Sorry. We’ve talked about so many things. I thought for sure we talked about what we did for a living. Maybe we just talked about you. I graduated last year. My specialty is elementary and secondary education, with a focus on history. My goal is to be a multi-grade history teacher, which is what I applied for. The school has a rare mid-year opening. This would be my first solo job. I interned at a school in Queens, but this would just be me, imparting knowledge on the youth of America,” she says passionately.
“That’s lovely.”
“Thank you. What about you? I want to understand what you do. I know it is gaming, but that is about all I know.”
“I designed Gettysburg. Have you heard of it?”
“Of course. Who hasn’t?” she says, laughing.
“Well, it’s about to expand on to consoles and PC. We are liking the real-time user stats.”
“Are you a history buff, too?” she asks excitedly.
“Absolutely. I saw the need for it. Other games like it were not interactive. This is a story mode. Your actions have consequences. I worked on it tirelessly in college, finally perfecting it last year. I just sold it. I am about to begin the next phase of development.”
“That sounds fascinating,” she says. “But it goes right over my head. I love history, but I’ve never really played video games before. Unless Extreme rollerblading on PlayStation One counts.”
“It counts. We all start somewhere. I was more of a Sega Genesis kid. I can show you how to play Gettysburg, if you want,” I say.
“That would be so much fun,” she says excitedly.
We finish eating dinner, and she calls her mom. We are going to dinner at their place in a couple of weeks. Her father is out of town for work, and that is when he will be home next.
“Okay, Sunday dinner with my family. I hope you are ready.”
“I’m ready, Brynn. I’m ready,” I say, surreptitiously rubbing the jewelry box in my pocket. I am very ready to ask her father a very important question, and I won’t take no for an answer. For the rest of the night, I show her the basics of the game and take her to bed, effectively destroying the see-through pants she had on.
Chapter 12
Brynn
Two Weeks Later
I am nervous as hell as I blow dry my freshly washed hair. I know he is going to find out about my family and what we do tonight. I just know it. Then he is going to ask me to leave, and all I want to do is to stay.
“Are you about ready?” he asks, popping his head into the bathroom.