Page 175 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
Maybe parents who signal a warning before coming home, eh?
“Seriously, it will be fine,” Atlas says as he holds my hand and brings me down the last few steps and into the living room, where his parents have draped a sheet over the couch and are now sitting, waiting for us.
Great.
“Hey,” Atlas says with a wave. “Wow, you guys are home. When did that happen? I was just upstairs with my girl, Betty. This is her by the way, fully clothed.”
His parents both wave at me with curt smiles, clearly feeling the awkwardness in the situation.
“Yup, I wear clothes,” I say, because I don’t know how to handle things like this.
“We do too. We really enjoy clothes,” his mom says while I feel the urgent need to stick my head in a hole. “I’m Ida, by the way, and this is my husband, Otto.”
“Very nice to meet you.” I lean in closer to Atlas, using him as a guide so I don’t say anything more ridiculous than I already have.
“Very nice to meet you too.” His mom motions between the two of us. “When did this happen? I didn’t think we were gone that long.”
“Long enough,” Atlas says. “And it sort of happened right after you left. Betty came into town, and she actually, uh, she’s related to Dwight.”
“Yokel?” Otto asks.
“Yeah. He owns the property next to ours.”
“He does?” Otto’s brow pinches together. “I didn’t know that. I’ve been wondering who owns that parcel for a while. I’m surprised to hear it’s Dwight.”
“So was I,” Atlas says. “Anyway, he brought in Betty to help figure out what to do with the lot.”
I feel my nerves kick up, because is he going to tell them what the original idea was? What I had planned initially? I really hope not, because that would be a surefire way for them not to like me. To ask me to leave.
“Oh, that’s interesting. What are your thoughts?” Ida asks.
Not trying to put you out of business, that’s for damn sure.
“Umm, well, I haven’t said anything to Dwight yet, but I was thinking of some sort of cottage rental, like an adult resort kind of thing, but mini-cottages rather than a large dominating hotel.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Ida says, sounding like the sweetest lady ever, despite finding me practically naked, under a blanket, nuzzling against her son’s bare crotch. “We could really use some more lodging in this town.”
“That’s what I told her,” Atlas says. “She has some really good ideas. Why don’t I order some pizza, and we can talk about your trip and what Betty has planned?”
“That sounds great.” Ida stands from the couch. “And after Betty goes home, you can clean the couch with the carpet cleaner.”
“Is that necessary?”
Ida smiles gently and folds her hands together. “Atlas, it is absolutely necessary. Now if you’re going to be difficult about it, I can remind you how I really entered my house after a long trip in Europe, but being the gracious woman that I am, I’m choosing to push that aside with the knowledge that my son is going to clean the couch his bare ass was on.”
Clean the couch, Atlas. For the love of God, clean the couch.
Atlas nods. “Of course, Mom. I’ll clean the couch.”
She walks up to him, pats his cheek, and says, “Such a good boy.” Then she takes me by the shoulders and directsme to the dining room. “Otto, grab everyone drinks. There are conversations to be had.”
“So how did this come to be?” Ida asks as she picks up a piece of pizza from the box.
We spent the last forty-five minutes talking about their trip and my plans for the cottages, Ida joining in and telling me what a great idea it was while Otto nodded. They’re actually really nice, Otto being the quieter of the two and Ida being a direct replica of Atlas.
“What do you mean?” Atlas asks.
“You two. Who made the first move? Did my son ask you out? Was he a gentleman about it?”
