My parents are the type of people that stand out in most crowds. There's my mother, with her huge blow-out, oversized jewelry, pattern-problem outfits, and thick-lensed glasses that take up half of her face and make her eyes appear larger than they are; and then there's Dad, with his caterpillar eyebrows, his mouth-concealing mustache, his undying love of cargo pants, and his wispy white hair that makes him somewhat reminiscent of Einstein. They both look like oddballs, with Dad on the nerdy side of things and Mom more on the "mystic" end.
Their appearance alone could draw attention, but it's the way that they talk and the volume that they talk at that really seals the deal. For being such a short man, my father has one of the loudest voices I've ever encountered. It's strong, round, and vibrant. My mother, on the other hand, is almost the opposite. She isn't necessarily soft-spoken, but she talks with a comical airiness, always with the tone of surprise. Her primary noise, however, comes from her chunky jewelry. Necklaces of wood and stone and bracelets fashioned from all sorts of metal make her sound a bit like a makeshift wind chime. If I were blind and Dad decided to keep his mouth shut, I could just follow the sound of her crafty jewels.
But I love them dearly. An adopted kid like me couldn't have hoped for more loving parents. They're good, compassionate people with a surprising love for unorthodox adventures. They like to have fun, always taking the less conventional route to achieve that.
Still, Dad could learn to use his inside voice now and again -- because as soon as I enter the restaurant, I don't even have to check in with the host. I just give her an apologetic smile and gesture towards the booming sound of my father practically dictating the menu. The host just laughs, letting me by.
My mother is the first to see me, and she gasps and leaps to her feet, practically bouncing as she approaches me. "Jackiiiiiie!" she cries, and I laugh when we embrace. Even though her jewelry always gets in the way, she gives a damn good hug. "Oh, it's so good to see you!"
"I'm just happy you could make the trip," I say, kissing her cheek before we separate. At Gus' behest, I decided to make extra time to have my parents come visit me. It's been a while, and I was starting to miss them.
Dad isn't a hugger, but he makes the exception for me and Mom, so we hug briefly upon greeting. "Looking fit, son!" he says when we separate, grabbing my upper arms.
I just laugh, pleased by the comment. Between the gym (which I go to reluctantly to spend time with Gus), rock climbing (which I've completely turned Gus onto), and very regular sex, I feel like I've whipped myself into better shape than ever before. Even Gus noticed I've been filling myself out more, enough to rival his thick but tasteful musculature.
"Not so bad yourself, old man," I tease. "How's your back?"
"Bah," he says as if insulted by me bringing that up. "I'll be fine."
"He's supposed to be taking it easy," Mom says, but she grins at me in a way that plainly says he's been doing the exact opposite of what the doctors wanted.
"What do they know?" Dad says, waving us both off as he takes his seat.
I sit across from them, already amused. "More than you, I bet," I say with a smirk.
"Don't sass me, boy," he says before picking up the menu again. For a while, Dad just complains about the lack of vegetarian options, even trying to pick a fight with me when I tell him there's an entire vegetarian menu. I can only shut him up after calling over a waitress, who provides the menu. Dad just mumbles something about "inconsideration," which just makes me laugh.
Mom, in the meantime, wants to know more about me. "So how've you been, honey?" she asks, resting her chin on top of her hand. "How's school?"
"School is crazy," I tell her, "but I've been good. Really good, actually." Then, I laugh, figuring this is as good a time as any. "Let me just get this out of the way now..."
As I shift in my seat and sit up straighter, my mother peers at me curiously. "Get what out of the way?"
"I, uh... I met someone."
My mother gasps and my father puts down the menu, his smile hidden behind his overgrown mustache. Neither of them have been introduced to any of my past girlfriends. Some of my exes would have loved to meet my parents, but the relationships never lasted long enough for me to feel like there was a point. I only ever wanted to show my main squeeze off to my parents if I knew it was going to last. After a few months (that feel like years) with Gus, I have a good feeling about this one -- lots of good feelings.
"About time!" my mother says, clapping a few times before nudging Dad with her elbow. "Weren't we just complaining about this?"
"Complaining?" I ask, laughing.
"I want grandbabies," Mom says with a frown.
"Whoa now," I say, holding my hands up. "You realize I'm only twenty-four, right?"
"You're not getting any younger," Dad says, and Mom nods as if he couldn't have made a more poignant statement.
"I'm not having kids right now, so you guys can scrap those dreams," I tell them, smirking.
My mother of course looks disappointed. "Not ever?"
I shrug. "The point is not *now*," I tell her before shaking my head. "But that's not what I wanna talk about." I clear my throat a bit, making sure I have their attention. I have no doubt that my parents will be fine with the gender of my significant other. I'm just not sure what their initial reaction will be. "Don't freak out," I say, "but he's a guy."
They both merely look caught off guard. Dad even needs clarification. "Who is?"
"The 'someone' I met is a guy," I tell him. "He's my boyfriend."
They maintain that surprised expression for only two seconds longer. After that, they're all smiles, Dad's eyes twinkling and Mom clutching her wooden necklace. "Well, can we meet him?!" Dad asks.
I smile at the both of them. "Of course. Just play it cool when you meet him," I request. "He gets flustered." I've always used two words to describe my parents: dorky and nosy.
They also crave instant gratification, because Dad immediately asks, "Is he around?"
"Now?" I ask, confused.
"Yes, now," he says, and Mom just nods in agreement.
I try not to laugh. "You don't wanna just have lunch with your only son?"
Dad just scoffs. "No. I wanna meet your boyfriend."
"Me too," Mom chimes in as if she hasn't been looking excited and nodding emphatically since Dad asked if Gus was available.
I'm more amused than anything else. "I mean, I could call him, but--"
"Do it!" Dad insists, waving his hands around a bit obnoxiously.
"Jesus, okay," I say, laughing at his insistence. "Gimme a sec."
