Title: My-Son-the-Doctor (Parts 1,2 & 3)
Summary: Spend an evening with Wilson's parents and overhear if they think Wilson and Amber are a OTP. Wilson's mom knows her son's heart. Implied Wilson and Amber with a hint of House in the first two parts. Wilson and Amber in the third. Lighthearted dialog. Written for House Wilson Drabble-a-thon. Part 1 is a drabble, and Part 2 & 3 ficlets. Originally 3 chapters, but consolidated to one to save space. Please read and review.
Disclaimer: Do not own House MD, or the characters, and never will, sniff. Haven't been there, or done that, but bought the DVD's. Just playing with the alphabet and look! Some words spell 'House' and 'Wilson'.
Part 1
"They're here Murray, I can see my 'My-Son-The-Doctor' helping her out of the car."
"Get away from the window, Florence. How does it look if the shiksa or boychik see you?"
"So? She'll see a concerned mother watching out for her son, and Jimmy won't notice. I can tell, he only has eyes for her. Mark my words, this is going to be number four."
"Here, move over a bisl, let me take a look. She's quite a long drink of water, isn't she? Reminds me of someone, but I can't think of who . . . "
"Oh, you can't remember, or you just don't want to say? She's reminds you of his friend, that's who. You know, the Cutthroat Bastard".
Part 2
"Murray, turn over and go to sleep, I can hear you thinking."
"Oy, Florence, their children will be giants."
"I'm not so sure."
"What? That the kinder will have to avoid dressing in green all their lives?"
"That they will settle down and get married."
"You don't think they aren't perfect for each other? They're doctors, they're in love . . .
"I'm not convinced."
"Florence, you can't see that Jimmela is in love? When Jimmy finds a beautiful woman, boom! Out comes the ring. The next thing you know we are hiding another check under an engagement cake as a surprise gift for the happy couple. I hate to tell you, but at the rate your son gets married, we won't have anything left for retirement"
First of all, he's not my son, he's our son. And second, be serious for a moment. You think you're telling me something new? I'm saying our brilliant son isn't always in touch with his heart when he proposes to his future wives.
"So, you are saying he is not in love?"
"Maybe he is happy, infatuated even, but no . . . definitely not in love. I only saw him in love with one person in all his life."
"Julie?"
"Not the whore."
"Bonnie?"
"Not the birdbrain."
"Terry?"
"She was history before she said, 'I do'. Think, Murray. When have you ever seen our Jimmy's eyes light up like a Chagall stained glass window?"
"The way you are looking at me right now – my b'shert?"
"Stop! Stop with the hands for a moment, and answer me when?"
"Uhmm, let me think. Ahah! Oy yoi yoi. . . five years ago? Thanksgiving?"
"And, do you remember with whom?"
" . . . "
" . . . "
"The "pojkvan".
"Murray, enough with the Swedish language lessons already . . . but yes, his friend - the Limping Twerp."
Part 3 - The Drive Home
"Are you tired? I can take the wheel."
"I'm fine."
"Meeting your parents . . .That went well."
"You think it w-went well? That's like saying the sinking of the Titanic went well."
"James Cameron would say it went well, and that it was a money maker."
"For the actual ship and the passengers – not so much."
Silence.
"You kept calling my dad, 'Marie.'"
"House gave me notes on how to make a good impression on your parents."
"You took House's advice?!"
"He said to pronounce your father's name, Murray, like 'Anne Murray,' and not to call your mother Flo."
"And, yet you did. You thought he was misleading you?"
"I had my suspicions."
"And, when my mother asked you about children, you said you would like to name a son after my brother . . ."
"Your voice is cracking. What's wrong about honoring your missing brother?"
" . . . Jews honor family members after they die, not while they are alive."
"Oh, James, I'm sorry. I didn't know. That was entirely my fault . . . Forgive me?"
Silence. Dark shadows pass through pools of light. Hands. Touch. Hold. Squeeze. Release. Silence.
"Uhm, . . . I told you the key to making my mom happy was to ask her for seconds on everything she cooked, but you barely tasted her pot roast, and passed on the gefilte fish."
"I love you, James, but the roast was fatty, and the ground fish looked like a bald tribble."
"Alright. I understand about the food, and my brother, but after you saw the expressions on my parent's faces, why didn't you take House's advice?"
"How often do you phone your parents?"
"Huh? What does that have to do . . .? Uh, maybe once a month, but it takes three hours to get off the phone."
"How often do you visit your parents?"
"Two . . . three times a year."
"Is it too much or too little?"
"Too much, and I'm saying it with all the love in the world but, . . . fifteen minute phone calls, and one visit a year would be ideal."
"And, how often did you see your parents when you were married?"
"More often. My wives enjoyed celebrating the Jewish holidays with them."
Silence. Darkness. Moving stripes of light. Bushy eyebrows framed in the rear-view mirror furrow, then shoot up in understanding.
"Uh-huh-ho! Yesss! That did go well."
Fin