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Can Charlie save naive Amy from asshole Liam?
"Nothing big, Mom!"
"Nothing very big, I promise."
After I hung up, I decided that Mom was right. Amy probably did belong to the Sisterhood of women who adore their man. It's just that I was afraid that Liam was her man. Of course, she had gone to bed with me, now that I thought about it. Did that help? Or just make the prospect of losing her to the asshole that much more painful. Sitting in the waiting room in Lansing, I recalled a poem from Bonehead English for Math and Science Geeks at Notre Dame. For some reason, I could recall the entire poem.
Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in:
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me,
Say I'm growing old, but add
Jenny kissed me.
The poem worked just as will with "Amy" as with "Jenny." I hoped Amy wasn't jumping for Liam. And that Liam wasn't jumping Amy's bones.
The rest of the day would be interesting only to someone who actually would lust over the Airports of the Big Ten foldout, but by late afternoon, with the Midwest winter darkness already drawing on, I arrived in Madison. Madison is easy driving distance from Milwaukee, even in the snow... if you can rent a car. It took me an hour to find Rent a Lemon, only a mile and a half walk from the airport. I didn't know until then that you could rent a Yugo, or a Skoda or a Lada in the United States. Where did these people get their stock? From Berlin Wall Motors? Only a rusted orange Yugo was left. One wiper worked but the heater didn't. Oh and the one wiper was on the passenger side, which made for a very peculiar driving position. I couldn't care less about heaters or wipers or driving position, as long as the wreck took me towards my Amy. Or at least, I hoped she might be my Amy
Three frozen hours later, I pulled the Yugo across the mouth of the driveway of my parents' home, blocking the three cars already in the drive, but poised and ready to take off for Chicago the moment I could do so without suffering a mother's curse. Oh, and thawing my fingers would be a good idea too. I could see the curtain on the living room window part slightly as someone checked out my arrival. Good thing this wasn't a surprise party. The McKee family party discipline was slipping and the gaff, as they say, would have been blown. (What's a gaff and why would anybody want to give it a blow job?) I could even hear bodies scurrying about as I mounted the steps and rang the doorbell. My mother opened the door before I could even ring. By Mom standards, the hug she gave me definitely qualified as perfunctory. Normally, a famished python releases you more quickly than Mom. She took my coat, folded it once lengthwise and threw it on a pile of outerwear stacked on the couch in the den. Obviously, there was a full house.
Tugging me gently by the elbow, Mom led me to the entrance to the living room. OK, just as expected, there was the whole family, brothers, sister, in laws, grandkids, strangers off the street. But no "Happy Birthday!" Nothing. Not a word. My three year old niece, Pammy, ran towards me with her arms out, "Uncle Charlie, Uncle Charlie, there's a..." But my sister in law Meg scooped her up and hauled her, protesting loudly, into the kitchen. Mom didn't say a thing and usually the fundamental rule of the McKee household is, "Grandchildren get to do whatever they want, provided it won't cause serious injury." Weird.
"Good to see you, son." My dad was seated on the couch with an older couple. I could swear I had never seen them before. The husband was just about round and could have been hired as a stand in for the Michelin Man. His wife, if that's who she was, wore what looked like a collection of burlap sacks, but not quite so fashionable. They must be the new neighbors Mom had told me about on the phone. Just like when I was a teen; everybody and his neighbor, had been invited to my birthday party.