I came in. I told him about my day and apologized for not saving him some doughnut. He looked disappointed at the doughnut part so I rooted around in my refrigerator and came up with a few grapes. Rex took the grapes and disappeared into his soup can. Life is pretty simple when you're a hamster.
I moseyed back into the kitchen and checked my phone messages.
"Stephanie, this is your mother. Don't forget about dinner. I have a nice roast chicken."
Saturday night and I was having chicken dinner with my parents. And it wasn't the first time. It was a weekly occurrence. I had no life.
I dragged myself into the bedroom, flopped onto the bed and watched the minute hand creep around the dial on my wristwatch until it was time to go to my parents'. My parents eat dinner at six o'clock. Not a minute sooner or later. That's the way it is. Dinner at six or your life is ruined.
MY PARENTS live in a narrow duplex on a narrow lot on a narrow street in a residential part of Trenton called the burg. When I arrived my mother was waiting at the door.
"What is this outfit you're wearing?" she asked. "You have no clothes on. How is this to dress?"
"This is a Thunders baseball jersey," I told her. "I'm supporting local sports."
My Grandma Mazur peeked from behind my mother. Grandma Mazur moved in with my parents shortly after my grandfather went heavenward to dine with Elvis. Grandma figures she's of an age to be beyond convention. My father thinks she's of an age to be beyond life.
"I need one of those jerseys," Grandma said. "Bet I'd have men following me down the block if I was dressed up like that."
"Stiva, the undertaker," my father murmured from the living room, head buried in the paper. "With his tape measure."
Grandma linked her arm in mine. "I've got a treat for you today. Just wait till you see what I've cooked up."
In the living room the paper was lowered, and my father's eyebrows raised.
My mother made the sign of the cross.
"Maybe you should tell me," I said to Grandma.
"I was gonna keep it as a surprise, but I suppose I could let you in on it. Being that he'll be here any minute now."
There was dead silence in the house.
"I invited your boyfriend over for dinner," Grandma said.
"I don't have a boyfriend!"
"Well, you do now. I arranged everything."
I spun on my heel and headed for the door. "I'm leaving."
"You can't do that!" Grandma yelled. "He'll be real disappointed. We had a nice long talk. And he said he didn't mind that you shoot people for a living."
"I don't shoot people for a living. I almost never shoot people." I thunked my head against the wall. "I hate fix-ups. Fix-ups are always awful."
"Can't be any more awful than that bozo you married," Grandma said. "Only one way to go after that fiasco."
She was right. My short-lived marriage had been a fiasco.
There was a knock on the door, and we swiveled our heads to look down the hall.
"Eddie Kuntz!" I gasped.
"Yep," Grandma said. "That's his name. He called up here looking for you, and so I invited him to dinner."
"Hey," Eddie said through the screen.
He was wearing a gray short-sleeved shirt open halfway down his chest, pleated slacks and Gucci loafers, no socks. He had a bottle of red wine in his hand.
"Hello," we said in unison.
"Can I come in?"
"Sure you can come in," Grandma said. "I guess we don't leave handsome men standing at the door."
He handed the wine to Grandma and winked. "Here you go, cutie."
Grandma giggled. "Aren't you the one."
"I almost never shoot people," I said. "Almost never."
"Me too," he said. "I hate unnecessary violence."
I took a step backward. "Excuse me. I need to help in the kitchen."
My mother hurried after me. "Don't even think about it!"
"What?"
"You know what. You were going to sneak out the back door."
"He's not my type."
My mother started filling serving dishes with food from the stove. Mashed potatoes, green beans, red cabbage. "What's wrong with him?"
"He's got too many buttons open on his shirt."
"He could turn out to be a nice person," my mother said. "You should give him a chance. What would it take? And what about supper? I have this nice chicken that will go to waste. What will you eat for supper if you don't eat here?"
"He called Grandma cutie!"
My mother had been slicing up the chicken. She took a drumstick and dropped