I tried to listen to what he said the best I could while keeping one eye and ear tuned into The King of Queens.
"Ha hahahaha, Momma. pause It is too funny. pause It'll happen when it happens Momma."
It is at this point I realize that once again she is questioning him as to when we'll be getting married. Apparently the Rents don't hate me for being mouthy. Apparently, even though we've been dating less time then it takes to gestate a human baby, we're ready to be wed. Our eyes meet and he immediately covers my mouth with his hand. I started yelling my protests and flailing my arms, which only makes my muffled ranting seem all the more crazy.
"Yes Momma I know. pause There's no sense in talking about that right now, it's done. It'll make me mad. pause Ok, yes, bye Momma."
I'd begun to gnaw at his hand shortly before the conversation was over. He finally released me and I began firing questions at him.
"What did she want to know now that'll happen when it happens?"
"When we're getting married. 'We're not getting any younger' you know."
"Why won't you let me speak for myself? Let me tell her to back off."
"You want me to hand you the phone next time?"
Ah, there it is, he catches me in my fear of confrontation. I consider before answering, " No, I have a hard time understanding your mom with her accent. It's really heavy sometimes."
"She speaks fine. This is just how things are done in "The Homeland." "
"We're not IN the "Homeland." " I replied weakly.
"I know we're not."
And yet, as we sat there silently watching the commercials, we both felt ourselves booking a reservation for "The Homeland" and all it's cultural pitfalls.
I won't even get a cool stamp on my Passport if I go the way of "The Homeland".
How is that fair I ask? How is it?????
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