“I know. They collect art as an investment. They mostly make their selections based on potential resalevalue.”
“Not sosurprising.”
“Good morning, writers!” My dad is probably on his third Bloody Mary bynow.
“Good morning, sir.” Erin curtsies, and I can tell she immediately regrets it, but I will remember the moment forever, because my Dad curtsiesback.
“I hear you wroteThe West Wing! I’ve been told by more than a few people that I remind them of MartinSheen.”
“They probably meant inApocalypse Now,” Iquip.
My Dad stares blankly at me for a few seconds, and I expect to be written out of the will, but he actually bursts out laughing. It has been years since I made him laugh. “Very good,” he says, indeed sounding like Martin Sheen. “Verygood.”
I am one hundred percent sure he doesn’t realize that it was funny because Sheen’s character is totes crazy in that movie, but rather he’s flattered because Martin Sheen was young and fit in it. Regardless, I will take what I can get. Carter is turning green with envy, or possibly from alcohol poisoning. He makes a call, probably to his girlfriend, to ask why she isn’t here. It doesn’t look like she’s answering, so he hangs up without leaving a message. He is not a happybro.
Erin stands on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear: “Your family doesn’t actually think I’m Aaron Sorkin, dothey?”
“Hard to say. Even if you were, it wouldn’t change their opinion ofscreenwriters.”
My Mom ushers us into the dining room, compliments Erin on her pretty dress, and describes the contents of all ten flavors ofcrepes.
Erin and I both reach for the Nutella crepes, while my beloved relatives choose the savory flavors, because they think that’s the classy choice. Erin and I are so lucky we know that Nutella is in fact the choice of classy people. Also because we don’tcare.
Erin does the right thing by asking my Dad about the art, and my Mom about the décor. I sit back and watch her do her thing, while trying not to think about all of the amazing noises she made last night. Before I know it, forty minutes have passed. Just kidding—I’ve checked my watch every fiveminutes.
I let everyone know that I’m ordering a car to take us to the airport in half an hour. Our flight is in three hours, so it’s not too early at all. My Dad offers his car, and I can tell that means he likes Erin, because usually my Mom has to remind him to offer me the driver. I appreciate and decline the offer, continue to order a car, while watching my Mom ask Erin about herparents.
Jackpot.
I knew my Mom would like her, but I’m pleasantly surprised and impressed that she was able to charm my Dad. I should ask her fortips.
Carter has been sulking in the background for most of our visit. It has been wonderful. He finally gets up to pour himself some coffee, then returns to sit next to me. Leaning back in the chair, he mumbles, “They likeher.”
“Iknow.”
“She’s cute,” he says in the most condescending wayimaginable.
I nod.In less than half an hour we will be free and you will be stuck here being you, youdickhead.
“So tell me about this screenplay you guys wrote,” he says, so loud he startles Mom. “What’s thegenre?”
“Supernatural horror, but it has a strong theme aboutmarriage.”
“Hah. What do you know aboutthat?”
“Says the guy who’s been engaged threetimes.”
“At least my fiancées told me to my face that they didn’t want to proceed. They didn’t leave anote.”
“That’s because they can’t spell.” I usually let it all roll off my back, but Erin has inspiredme.
Erin covers her mouth to keep fromlaughing.
“Okay boys. We’re having a nice brunch, let’s keep it that way. Anyone want more coffee ortea?”
My Dad silently retreats to the kitchen, disapproving, but only willing to convey it through his absence. That’s how it usuallygoes.
“No thanks, Mom.” I stand up. “Why don’t we help you clear thetable.”
