Page 58 of The Grump Next Door
They move toward the door, but my mother pauses. “Dean, darling, do think about what we’ve said. And perhaps suggest to Mason that a smaller gathering—”
“Goodbye, Mom.”
She sighs again, collects the dogs (who have to be physically dragged away from Poppy), and sweeps out.
The door closes.
Silence.
“So,” Poppy says. “That was fun.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s either that or punch a wall.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“For what? The sprinklers? The surprise parent visit? The weird dog thing?”
“All of it.”
She studies me, really looks at me for the first time since we came inside. I realize we’re both still soaking wet, standing in my foyer, probably ruining the floors.
“Your parents seem… intense.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“What’s another?”
“Toxic. Controlling. Emotionally manipulative.”
“Ah.” She wraps the towel tighter around herself. “And they don’t approve of Mason?”
“They don’t like that Mason chose happiness over their version of success.”
“And you?”
I shrug. “I chose their version. Look how well that turned out.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then she says, “The dogs liked me.”
“The dogs have good taste.” It slips out before I can stop it. We both freeze.
“I should…” She gestures vaguely at her wet clothes.
“Right. Yes. You should.”
But neither of us moves.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For not letting them kick me out.”
“I wasn’t going to let them—”
“You stood up for me. To your parents. That was…” She bites her lip. “No one’s done that before.”
The admission hangs between us. Too honest. Too real for whatever this is supposed to be.
