“If my parents could have been anymore mortifying, I would’ve taken my plate and eaten in my bedroom,” I told Rocco an hour after the table was cleared and everyone wandered to different parts of the house, Rocco and I passing on my mother’s pear Clafouti.
We sat on the front porch with our sodas.
“No worries,” Rocco said. “Your parents are tame compared to mine. Your mom and dad are like the Leave it to Beaver family.”
I laughed. “Maybe on crack,” I said, adding, “I think your parents are more normal than mine.”
“Define normal.” He was defiant.
“As you know, my folks are a cross between Texas Chainsaw m******e and Modern Family. Quirky with a really twisted dark side.”
“I like your parents. They’re cool.”
“My father is humiliating.”
“Nah. He’s harmless.”
“Live with them for a day
