A few days before Christmas, Caroline, Ian, and I drove down to her
parent’s place. Well, Ian drove, Caroline rode shotgun, and I had the backseat
with half of the luggage. From what I could tell, we weren’t actually going to
their regular place of residence because she had mentioned a townhouse in a
city further south, but we were going to a beach house to the north. Why we
were going to a beach house in the midst of winter didn’t make sense to me, but
I was more than used to that by now.
To pass the time on the long drive—long due to traffic, not distance so
much—we played car games involving the cars around us, license plates, and even
nursery rhymes. One of us would be ‘it’. One would pick a car and license plate
and the other would pick a nursery rhyme. The object was to come up with two
verses to the nursery rhyme—one about the car, one about the license plate. If
both choosing parties decided the verses were valid and worked in the melody,
the person having chosen the rhyme would be ‘it’ next and the duties would
rotate accordingly. If they voted it didn’t work, the person would be ‘it’
again.
It really was entertaining, especially when the verses included flying
cars, bewitched numbers, dancing letters, and escaped law students making a
quick getaway before their professors caught up. After a few rounds of
listening to Caroline and Ian create these ingeniously hilarious lines—compared
to my relatively boring, minimal requirement efforts—I branched out, coming up
with a few one liners that would make Caroline toss her head back laughing and
Ian grip the steering wheel tighter as he tried to control himself. I was
pleased I was improving in their game.
Caroline’s parents were sitting on the wraparound porch on the beach side
when we arrived. They came to greet us at the car. I was somewhat surprised as
she didn’t truly resemble either of them. Her mom had wispy, reddish blonde
hair and sea-green eyes; the only clue they were related was the high
cheekbones. She had her father’s eyes, and might have had his hair, though I
doubted that. His was already grey and, as dark as it was, I was willing to bet
his hair had been some deep brown or raven color.
Both of them took turns hugging Caroline until she rolled her eyes and
protested their affections. Then they shook Ian’s hand and welcomed him.
“Mom, Dad,” Caroline said, steering them over to where I stood by the
car, watching the greetings and trying to avoid thinking about how my own
parents were doing. “This is Abriel. Abs, these are my—ever
embarrassing—parents.”
“Oh, really, honey;” her mom blushed. “She doesn’t realize how much she
loves it,” she said, taking my hands in each of hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet
you, Abriel. We’ve heard a fair amount about you the past months. She’s almost
smitten.”
“She’s not like that, Mom.” Caroline lugged a couple of suitcases out of
the car and started toward the porch.
Her father nodded his head in greeting, “It is a pleasure. I do believe
you’re the first girl she’s brought home in a long time.”
Caroline reappeared behind them and dragged them away while saying, “I’m
sorry, Abs. They just never know how not to embarrass me.”
Once they were on the porch, Caroline started counting things off on her
fingers. From the tidbits I caught on the wind, it sounded like she was
reviewing a list of appropriate topics of conversation. It reminded me somewhat
of Mother and her incessant need for everything to be perfectly correct.
However, knowing Caroline, this was to minimize her humiliation.
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