“I absolutely want to join you.”
I grin. Although I am a bit nervous about having him come to see my family in their more natural, less best-behavior-because-it’s-a-wedding state. I love my family and don’t want their uninhibited, larger-than-life, boisterous natures to ever change. I just hope we don’t scare Owen away like we did with pretty much every other guy I ever brought home.
“Speaking of hanging out with families… Do you want to join me when I go to visit mine on Sunday? My sister will be in town for fall break.”
“Of course,” I say. And I smile the rest of the way back to his truck. I’m going to see where Owen came from.
CHAPTER 24
I’M JUST VISITING
OWEN
Blake hadn’t been joking—I did get added to the Lancaster family group text. At least the one that Emerson set up to discuss Charlie’s birthday. I have no idea how he got my phone number, since it doesn’t sound like Charlie even knows about this particular group text. We mostly discussed what “talent” each brother was planning, along with any pairing up for performances.
Which was how I managed to get paired up in two separate performances. One with Miles, which makes sense, since we bonded over the whole intruder thing. And one with Blake, who still kind of scares me.
I know Charlie said I didn’t have to, that I could just help her judge, but I want to. I’m grateful I’ll be teaming up with a couple of her brothers because I really didn’t want to perform solo in a family traditionI know so little about. And I love that we’ve somehow managed to keep my participation in it a secret from Charlie.
On Saturday evening, Charlie’s brothers carry an oversized reading chair out to a grassy area in the backyard that faces a wooden platform just below a big tree. They call it the Queen’s Throne, and it’s where Charlie will sit as she judges the competition. Then, her brothers, her mom, Zoe, Blake’s daughter, Heidi, and I all sit on camp chairs surrounding the platform that we’ll be using as a stage.
Once we are all seated and Charlie is ready to start judging, her brainy brother, Emerson, and her suave brother, Miles, take the stage and put on a wildly committed sock puppet story, complete with kitchen utensils as props and dramatic background music. The hero sock battles the villain sock with a spatula-saber, and nearly meets his end in the “washing machine of doom,” which is played by a salad spinner.
He is rescued at the last minute in a surprise cameo by Charlie’s mom, Evelyn, who swoops in from offstage with a leopard-print sock puppet in sunglasses. Declaring she “came back for one last cycle,” her puppet saves the day with a spoon chop to the villain. The three of them bow as we all cheer.
Then, Blake and his three-year-old daughter, Heidi, take the stage, and Blake announces that Heidi is a world-famous namer of paintings.He shows a handful of well-known ones, and Heidi names them on the spot. She’s hilarious for such a little kid.
I especially love it when Blake showsThe Screamby Edvard Munch. Heidi takes one look at the swirling sky and haunted, panicked face and declares that it’s named, “He’s Got a Spider Under His Bed.” I also love that when she sees theMona Lisa, she calls it “She Sneaked Some Cookies.” I think that will forever remain its name in my head.
Ledger and Zoe take the stage next. As Ledger lies flat on his back, I wonder if the two of them have talked any more about getting engaged since the wedding, and how it went if they did. Zoe announces that she’ll be demonstrating “a test of balance, focus, and fragile carbs.”
Then she proceeds to see how many Ritz crackers she can stack on Ledger’s face while we all count out loud, with very enthusiastic voices, as she places each one. Using multiple piles on his forehead and cheeks, she makes a fairly architecturally sound creation as Ledger just lies there, radiating a kind of chaotic confidence.
Eventually, the stacks on his cheeks start to lean inward enough that they rest against his nose, and he sneezes, collapsing the entire structure but producing a lot of hooting and cheering from us.
Then it’s my turn. I lean over and give Charlie a kiss on the temple, then stand. She looks at me,confused but intrigued. I don’t say a word—I just go to the bag I had Miles stash with the rest of the props and hand him a tape measure and a hammer while I take the level. Then we walk onto the stage with slow, exaggerated purpose, and the crowd immediately hoots. Charlie claps a hand over her grinning mouth, like she’s bracing for impact.
Miles pulls the tape measure out several feet and then drapes it across his chest like a royal sash. I hold the level upright in front of me like a broadsword forged by the gods of Home Depot.
Miles bows to the audience and announces in a regal tone, “We welcome thee… to Build-a-Bard.”
Then, the two of us improvise a scene in faux-Elizabethan English, very loosely quoting Shakespeare, as we discuss the errors Miles made in building the frame of a wall and how it isn’t going to pass inspection.
We end with Miles gasping and looking scandalized before dropping to one knee. “Forgive me, for ‘twas the fault of thine cursed manual—written without language, in only hexed diagrams.”
“Dost thou mean… the Swedish scrolls?”
“Aye,” Miles says. “IKEA hath claimed many brave men before it claimeth me.”
We both bow deeply. When we do, Miles accidentally whacks his knee with the hammer, yelps, and mutters, “Ow. The inspectionhath failed.”
Everyone cheers and applauds. Charlie’s laugh carries above everything else, which is really the only stamp of approval I was hoping for. I’m smiling as I take the seat next to her again. Especially because she smiles at me like she thinks I’m even better than her dreams, which I’ll take any day of the week.
Charlie’s mom, Evelyn, and Ledger’s girlfriend, Zoe, carry a card table to the stage. On it is an oddly-shaped box, a roll of wrapping paper, scissors, some ribbon, and a tape dispenser. They make a show of blindfolding Zoe, and then Zoe puts on some work gloves—the type we use at my site.
In a calm, deadly serious voice, Evelyn narrates what Zoe’s doing as she attempts to gift-wrap the box, but she tells it like Zoe is trying to dismantle a bomb. She says things like “She’s going for the tape… no, she’s stuck to the tape, and the timer is relentlessly ticking down.” And, “If she can’t secure the ribbon perimeter in the next ten seconds, the entire package will detonate into ‘slightly crumpled but lovingly attempted’ territory.”
We’re all laughing at the seriousness of Evelyn’s voice juxtaposed with the comedic struggles Zoe is having with the gift. Then, as Zoe finishes and holds up the package triumphantly, sporting pieces of mangled tape stuck in random places and a lopsided bow, Evelyn says, “She’s done it. The payload is secure. Ribbon integrity: questionable. Corners: classified.Tape application: eh… We’ll call it ‘legally inadvisable.’ But the operation is a success.”
