“Why would you need to wear a tie?” Mom asked. “We’re not fancy here. You don’t need to dress up.”
“Speak for yourself,” Nana said. “I’m fancy as shit.”
“Language,” Dad said.
“Nana, your muumuu has pictures of Donald Trump getting punched in the face by Speedy Gonzales,” I said. “I don’t know if that’s fancy. And I almost don’t even want to know where you got that.”
“You can iron images onto fabrics,” Nana said. “It’s not that hard of a concept. I do know how to use the Internet. And I’m not fancy now. It was just you two coming over for dinner, and I didn’t think it was supposed to be a big deal. If I’d known this was going to be a black-tie affair, I would have put on underwear.”
“Hup,” I gagged. “Hup. Hup.”
“I know you’re up to something,” Dad said, pointing his fork at me. “And you can bet I’m going to find out what.”
“Dear, don’t threaten people with cutlery,” Mom said. “It’s not civilized.” She blinked. “Oh, listen to me, sounding all high and mighty, especially after I just said we weren’t fancy. Never mind. Threaten away.” She picked her fork up and pointed it at me as well.
I sighed.
“Can I do it?” Vince asked me, glancing at my parents, then back to me. “I want to do it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to wait. I forgot my tie and North Korea, and I want to do this now before I forget what I want to say.”
I used my napkin to wipe my mouth to make sure I didn’t have lasagna on my face so my parents would take us seriously. “Um. Okay. Go ahead.”
He reached under the table and took my hand in his. I squeezed him gently so he knew I was ready too. He nodded, took a deep breath, and then looked back at Mom, Dad, and Nana.
“Okay. So. Hi.”
“Hi,” Mom said.
“S’up, trick,” Nana said.
“Did you two murder someone and need help hiding the body?” Dad demanded. “Because if you did, we’d need to rent a truck and take it out to the desert. I know a place.”
“No, Dad,” I said as evenly as possible. “We didn’t murder anyone. And while I appreciate you having my back in case I ever did, we’re going to need to have a talk later about why you think I’m capable of something like that.”
“He’s just worried,” Mom said. “You’re making us nervous. This sounds serious.”
“It is serious,” I agreed. “But it’s nothing bad. It’s actually really good.”
“You know we’re getting married,” Vince said.
“You are?” Nana gasped. “I didn’t know that. Ha, psych. You guys thought I had dementia. Classic.”
“And you know Nana is already standing on Paul’s side of the wedding.”
“Yes,” Nana said. “Paul, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that. I have an idea for the costumes I’m going to be wearing, and I wanted to run it by you.”
“No costumes,” I warned her. “In fact, you are going to wear what I pick out for you and nothing else. And also underwear.”
She scowled at me. ?
??I didn’t survive ’Nam to have you youngsters tell me how to live. I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe in those jungles.”
“That was Rambo: First Blood Part II,” Mom said, patting her hand. “You were watching it on your VCR last week.”
“I never get to have any fun.” Nana sighed.