Mask of Celibacy

Chapter 33

All morning my heart had decided to play the drums in a rock 'n' roll band. Not simply because I was doing last-minute chores to tidy the house.

Eric had decided to meet my family.

After cleaning the house to within an inch of its life, we all dressed in our Sunday best like upper-middle-class wannabes. Mom exited my room with a satisfied smile after checking every surface.

"It passes inspection," she said.

This joke usually made me laugh, but I couldn't even force one today. My fingertips tingled with adrenaline. 

Would Eric get along with my grandparents? Sure, he would.

But would they get along with him? That was the key question.

Mom had spared no expense in decking out the dining room table with a snack spread worthy of King Henry VIII. It included family favorites like shrimp cocktail, deviled eggs, crudité with three dips, two bowls of chips, some homemade chocolate chip cookies, and other finger food.

Normally we did this only for Christmas. 

Even after I'd told them it was too much, they wouldn't hear anything of it. They would accept nothing less for the guy I liked. 

Oh, brother.

Mom had decked the kitchen table with our finest tablecloth. Semi-formal Wedgwood wild strawberry dinner plates lay ready along with actual silverware that Mom had spent last night polishing to a fine sheen. She'd ironed the cloth napkins and made sure all the cutlery lined up just so along with the expensive crystal water goblets.

Well, at least she's taking this seriously.

As Eric closed the door to his Mercedes, my chest pulled tight with nerves. Shit, shit, shit! Please don't let him think we're weird. 

"Jess, dear. You will answer the door and introduce us," said Mom in a serious tone.

"Yes, Mom. I know how this goes."

"You will not neglect our guests this time," she insisted. "There will be no going to your room or playing video games on your own while we entertain him."

"Mom, he's my boyfriend."

Kind of. 

I think. 

Wait! Shit, should I have told them that? 

What if he doesn't think of me like that yet?

"Jessica, dear!" Mom chastised me in a sharp whisper. "He's coming up the stairs." 

"Thanks, Mom. I know." 

For the love of God! As though I'm not anxious enough. 

"Go to the door promptly," she said in an rapid-fire whisper, "but not too quickly. But don't make him wait either."

"I don't need a play by play."

"None of that backtalk," she said in a haughty tone. "Eric needs to know you come from good breeding."

Oh, for fuck's sake! Kill me now!

"Will you ladies relax?" muttered Grandad as Eric rang the doorbell. 

"Go on, dear..."

Jeez! Enough already!

When I opened the heavy steel door, there stood Eric ramrod straight dressed in a fine black suit and a starched shirt with a black tie. So tall. So slender. So sleek. Freshly shaven with a nicely trimmed haircut.