Starry Nights and Stolen Kisses

Facing the Music

Open mouth, insert foot. If there is one thing you will learn about me in a very short amount of time, it's that I suffer from a very serious disease. Foot in Mouth Disorder. My talent really is uncanny. No matter where I am, who I'm with or what we are doing, I manage to say the exact wrong thing. Every time. My brothers think it's hilarious. My mother still believes she'll be able to cure me of it with a sharp look and mom shaming. My dad...well, let's just say that my dad is a man of few words, but everything you want to know about him is written on his face. It's his face that tells me right now that I did it again. His slight smirk and soft downward shake of the head that says, "once a knucklehead, always a knucklehead." Yes, we live in an ongoing episode of the Andy Griffith Show. Or at least my dad and I do. There is a gentle depth and sweetness to our bond. He may not be my blood, but no one could love me or understand me more if they did share my DNA. We often don't say much to each other, just sit on the porch enjoying the summer nights with bowls of ice cream resting on our knees. As the breeze picks up, I sway into my dad's side and he wraps an arm around me and we sit quietly, just being present with each other. To say I am a daddy's girl isn't the right term. I am really close to both of my parents, but I think my dad gets me in a way that only one other person has ever gotten me. I don't have to try, I can just be and whatever I am, is enough. It's more than enough. I look pleadingly at my dad, hoping that he can help me out of my current jam, he does nothing but stifle his laughter. Thanks a lot, Dad.

"Auntie Alex? There's no Santa Clause?" I am paralyzed by the devastated look on the face of my youngest nephew, Ethan. 

"What? No, that's not  what I... I was just.. it was a joke. You know, ha ha - me having a boyfriend is like saying there's a Santa Clause. Get it?" He did not get it. Giant floods of tears erupt from his tiny body and my sister-in-law, Julie rushes over and gathers up her baby in her arms cooing softly in his ear that Auntie Alex didn't mean it and she knows for FACT that Santa Clause is going to bring him the biggest and best toy ever for Christmas this year. She says that while looking me straight in the eye with that mama lion look that says, if you know what's good for you, you are going to deliver big time this year. She's not wrong. Santa Clause does exist and her name is Auntie Alex, the incurable schmuck doomed with Foot in Mouth Disorder. 

"Pay up." Jimmy pulls a twenty out of his wallet and slaps it into Tony's hand. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, sucker! What'd I tell you? She didn't make it an hour being home."

"Are you kidding me?! Did you seriously take bets on how quickly I would say something stupid?" I am stunned when they all bob up and down in demonic glee. Nothing those morons do surprises me, but when they turned and looked at my dad who had put his hand out, I was shocked. "Actually, Tony, I believe I said she wouldn't make it 45 minutes and it was 44 minutes when the incident happened, so I believe you all owe me $20." The man-boys groan and all fork over their bills to my dad who doesn't hide his smug amusement. 

"I expect that kind of lunacy from them, but you, Dad? How could you exploit me like that?" My Dad is ex-military, and every now and then you can still see the habits drilled into him over a career built on rigid discipline. He marches over to me and drapes an arm around me, leaning close and whispering conspiratorially. "I thought maybe we could beat them at their own game and then let them treat us to breakfast." It's hard to argue with that logic. Considering that my disorder is terminal, it's hard to fault the logic, especially if it means I get a stack of Peggy's Cinnamon Raisin French Toast out of it. 

"So, Alex, when are you babysitting? You know since you just traumatized my kid and I'm going to have to be up with him all night, rather than making sweet love to my hot wife, I figure you owe me." 

"Tony, Gross. Keep that intel to yourself. No one asked or wants to know anything about the intimate relations between you and Julie."

"Oooh look at me, I'm miss hoity toity edumacated Ah-LEX-is and I say things like intimate relations instead of sex." If I had to rank my brothers in the order of how much I liked them, Jimmy would be my least favorite brother. That's not saying much because I love/hate them all, but he has always teased me the most. Relentlessly. He thinks he's hilarious, but no one else is laughing. Okay, maybe the other guys are laughing, but I am never laughing. "Har har. You're so funny. NOT."

Before the antics can continue a plate is shoved into my hands, loaded with my mother's famous Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy and green beans. I marvel at the gift of art that is my meal and shove Joe over so I can sit down next to him on the banquet bench in the dining nook. There is a crash in the living room and all of the parental units are dispatched to untangle the jumble of boys that unsuccessfully attempted flight in the living room. 

" Are you okay, kiddo? Like really?"

"I'm great!"

"Lex, it's me. You can't bullshit a bullshitter." Joe could always see right through me. Eight years my senior, Joe is a very protective older brother. He loves to tease me, but he is fiercely devoted and has always been there whenever I needed a shoulder. I once called him from a payphone in Vegas when I hitched a ride on a rebellious whim and couldn't get home. He dropped everything he was doing and drove six hours round trip to bring me home. He didn't lecture me and never said a word about it again. He understood that I was heartbroken and needed an escape. He knew that what I needed more than a lecture was a double double with fries, animal style from In-N-Out with a large chocolate shake. He was not wrong. I would have liked to have had a big sister, but I don't know what I would have done without my big brother. My number one fan, as he likes to tell it. 

"Denial ain't only a river in Egypt." He gets the hint that I'm not ready to go there and gives me a gentle noogie on the top of my head before pulling me in for a tight hug.

"I'm glad you're home, kid. Even if you are the killer of small children's dreams." I reward his cackling laughter with spoonful of mashed potatoes smashed into his cheek. That just made him laugh harder as he returned the favor.