"I was more scared before we moved," I chirped.
My mother stood on the front porch, a hand massaging her stomach. Leaving us to handle his luggage, Grandfather climbed the stairs, "Hi precious."
"Hi Daddy," He hugged her and kissed her cheek.
"You shouldn't have," she said as Grandfather gave her the roses.
"Nonsense."
"You're so thoughtful."
I understood how she was mistaken for his sister; the comparison drove her crazy. He looked down at her bulging belly, "Damn it girl, how many times must I tell you about drinking those expensive imported beers. They lay in your stomach like rocks. Stick to light beers. Look at me," He patted his belly. "Years of drinking and nothing to show for it."
If Mrs. Miller was peering out from behind her curtains, she would have told her bridge club that loud Mary looked tense. Even though mother was glad grandfather was here, she had an edge. "One of those imports would taste good about now," she said. The sun dipped behind the clouds again. A cool wind swirled leaves across the yard and onto the street.
After grandfather settled in, the four of us sat around the kitchen table talking the afternoon away. The day seemed perfect; like California without palm trees. Later, mother excused herself, saying she needed a nap. As the afternoon turned to evening, Grandfather asked, "So Casanova, when am I going to meet this girlfriend of yours?"
"She's not my girlfriend," I objected. Looking to my father for support I noticed his head hung low as he played with his beer bottle's label.
"Rumor has it you're quite an item."
"Rumor is full of shit."
"James, knock off the language," Father lamented.
"Son-in-law let the boy go. He's twelve - he's got to learn sometime."
"If your daughter hears him, we'll all have hell to pay."
"My daughter needs to kill the bug that crawled up her ass." He paused. "You didn't hear me say that. I don't want her wrath. I've been through one war; I don't want to go through another." He sipped his beer. "As for the cussing, I don't give a shit. How cool's that?"
"Cool, very cool," I said.
"The correct answer is Fucking A."
"Fucking A." I repeated. My father shook his head.
A gust of wind slammed against the house, rattling the windows. Grandfather jumped. "Oh shit," he said. "She heard us - we're in for it now."