You know the drill: work has been insane. I feel like a broken record, but it's true. Stupid bills that need to be paid, lol. Anywhere I can go revoke my grownup card?
Thank you so much for your patience. And, as always, I appreciate your feedback on the previous chapter. :-)
"I don't know what to do."
"For the millionth time: take the free apartment. You'd be living the dream."
"Is that the only part that's registered with you out of our conversations the past few days, the free apartment?" Angela glared at him. She'd wanted his opinion on things with her mother and the fact that her dad knew about at least one of her mother's other kids. But he couldn't see past the money. "You didn't hear anything else I said?"
"To be fair, getting to live rent free is what would stand out to most people. But no, I heard everything."
"And?"
"Your dad's offering up a pretty sweet deal. It would be crazy move to turn it down."
"Then why don't you see if he'll adopt you and pay your rent instead?"
"It would make us dating really weird for one thing."
"Seriously?" She stood up and tried to walk away, but Eric onto held her wrist. "Let me go."
"Not until we finish talking, no."
"This conversation is over." She freed herself from his loose grasp. "You can leave."
"I'm sorry, okay? I just gave Jack my part of the rent, my car insurance is due next week, and the week after that I have to make my last tuition payment for summer school. Pardon me for being jealous for one freakin' second that your dad wants to pay your rent. Go around town and take a poll; guarantee you almost every person would want that problem."
"I thought your parents helped you with tuition, especially since they used your college fund to buy the store."
"Not summer school." While he couldn't blame his parents for getting frustrated with him and using the money to secure a better future for the family, sometimes he was still a little bitter about losing his college fund. He only put off school for one year after all. It wasn't like he checked out for five years. "They said that's on me. I think it's part of the whole tough love crap they like to go on about."
"That sucks."
"Whatever. I'll just make sure they move in with Cory or the Weasel when it's time for them to retire." He reached for her hand again and laced their fingers together. No way she'd let him do that if she was really mad…or at least if he was the one she was mad at. "So can we start the conversation again? Give me another chance? The fumes my bank account is running on made me woozy. And that made me stupid."
"Don't make me yell at you for calling yourself stupid," she said, once again joining him on the couch. "Ugh, I swear the stress from this whole thing is going to leave me with a permanent migraine."
"Anything I can do? I'll sit hear and listen about your mom for as long as you want. The rent thing is out of my system."
"No, I'm done thinking or talking about her unless I have to."
"Then how can I help the migraine situation?"
"I don't suppose that offer for a scalp massage is still good, huh?"
"Two hands, no waiting, remember?"
/
/
"No, the bed goes along that wall."
Cory put down his end of the furniture. "What? But that's where we had the desks and a dresser."
"That's where Morgan wants her bed. Her desk is going to be where the beds were. She thinks it makes sense with the built in storage right there."
"But, mom, the beds have always been over here."
"Not anymore."
"Come on, Cor, let's get it over there." Shawn crouched down to lift his half of the bed frame. "This paint color is…intense, Mrs. Matthews."
She nodded. The room certainly had a bold look now. "Morgan finally settled on turquoise. We were just happy she stopped pushing to paint the room black."
"I don't like it."
"You, Cory Matthews, not liking change? However will I recover from the shock?"
"Very funny, mom."
"It's just a room. Get over it."
"Just a room? Most of my formative years were spent in this room. I grew up in here. Now it's disappearing….like all the other good stuff in my life."
"Honey, you're acting like we're tearing it down and putting up a Burger King. It's just being handed down to the next sibling- circle of life. What did you expect us to do, put up a shrine?"
"I don't know about a shrine," he mumbled, "but a framed photo would be nice."
Amy patted his cheek, half sympathetic and half warning him to chill out. "After you get the bed on the correct wall come downstairs. Dad will be home any minute with the new bookcases."
"How did Eric get out of doing all this?"
"He and Angela helped paint last week and then he volunteered to pull up the old carpet the other day." She and Alan were surprised when he asked to be paid for taking care of the flooring, but considering it was a tedious task neither of them wanted, they did give him some money when he offered. Especially once he confessed to wanting some extra cash to buy Angela a birthday present.
"Ew. That had been on the floor forever, since we were kids. I don't even know how many times we dropped food and drinks onto it."
"Exactly. So meet me downstairs in a few minutes, okay?" The guys nodded. "Thank you."
"When's Morgan coming back," Shawn asked Cory.
"Wednesday night."
Amy popped her head back into the room. "Oh, Shawn, we're having a little barbecue on Thursday night. It's nothing big. Sort of to celebrate Morgan coming home and Mr. Feeny and Dean Bolander are back from their honeymoon."
"Okay, sounds great."
"However, you should know that Angela and her father are also going to be here. I don't know how things have been with you and Angela- or with you and Eric for that matter- since they started dating, but I'd rather there not be a scene."
Wow, Angela's dad was meeting the Matthews' already? "I think I'll be okay."
"You think?"
"If I'm not I'll just leave. No drama. I promise."
"Thank you."
Once they were alone again Cory spoke up. "You really think you can sit through a happy family dinner? Because I don't know how I'm going to spend the night with a bunch of cheery people without Topanga by my side."
"I don't know. I'm mostly in it for the home cooked meal at this point. With all the fast food I've been eating I'm probably well on my way to ending up like Chet."
"Hey, don't say stuff like that! We're going to get old, gray, and fat together and you can live in the apartment above mine and Topanga's garage like Fonzie."
"Fonzie, huh?"
"You've already got the leather jacket for it."
"Can we move this already?" He picked up his end of the bed as Cory did the same.
He walked backwards towards the wall. "Just promise if you leave you'll sneak me out with you."
"Sure. We'll go to the arcade. Maybe I'll even let you win."
/
/
"I know there's crazy movie magic involved and he's not technically real, but how cool do you think it was to get to play basketball with Bugs Bunny? It doesn't matter if you're Michael Jordan. That's still freakin' Bugs Bunny!"
"Mmm-hmm."
Eric glanced down at Angela but couldn't see her because she was facing the TV. She let him pick the movie, her only request being that it required no thought. He decided on Space Jam. But apparently between the Looney Toons and him massaging her scalp she didn't last very long. "Are you sleeping?"
"Hmm?"
"I can go home," he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "This way you can go to bed."
"No…stay."
He kissed her temple before he sat up again. "Okay."
A little while later Eric was dozing off himself when he heard the front door. He looked up and saw Angela's father standing there. The man seemed…less than thrilled. It took all of a few seconds for Eric to realize why. "I…uh…she's sleeping! Her head hurt and she wanted me to massage her scalp. I was confused at first when she handed me some olive oil, but…." Was there anything else to say to a father who came home and saw his daughter with her head in her boyfriend's lap? Sure, there was a pillow between them, but it didn't look good. Was there any way he could get out of this alive? "There's nothing funny going on."
"Are you trying to make my headache come back," Angela mumbled. "Michael Jordan and Bugs Bunny will win the game. You know this. You don't have to talk to the alien team."
"Hey, look, your dad's home."
She opened her eyes and squinted, making out her dad's shadow in the light of the TV. "Hi, dad."
"Hi." Alvin stood there awkwardly before he finally moved to sit in a chair. "I was able to get reservations at that restaurant you wanted to try on your birthday- one of the most popular restaurants in Boston. We have a table right by the window with a view of the bay."
"No singing waiters, right? Because that's where I draw the line."
"I'll make sure there's no singing."
"Thank you." She sat up and stretched, feeling her muscles protest after being in one position for so long. "I'm going to go to bed." She leaned over and kissed Eric's cheek. "I put an extra blanket in my room. This way if I hog the covers again you'll still have one."
"O-okay." They hadn't spent the night together since her father's been in town. Granted, that was more his choice than hers'. "Thanks."
"Good night, dad."
She looked him directly in the eye as she walked past, almost daring him to say something. Alvin had to hand it to her. It took some guts to tell your boyfriend he's spending the night in front of your father. He knew from the look on Eric's face he was surprised, too. "Good night, sweetheart."
/
A little while later the movie had ended and Alvin settled on sitcom reruns after catching the end of the nightly news. He could see Eric was exhausted. He nodded off every few minutes, only to be startled awake when a loud commercial came on. "Son, go to sleep."
"Huh?" He jumped. It had been a long day. He'd had three classes then closed the store for his dad. Thank goodness he only had the one class tomorrow. "No, I'm fine. Wide awake. Besides, we're watching TV."
"What are we watching?"
Eric glanced at the time and tried to remember what was usually on now. "Um…Fresh Prince?"
"Nope."
"Friends?"
"Matthews, do I look like I spend time obsessing over whether Ross and Rachel were or were not on a break?"
"You know their names, so yeah, you do," he said, smirking.
"The woman I was dating…she was…still is, I assume…very into the show. I never watched it but heard all about it."
"Then what are we watching?"
"I don't know what's going on behind your eyelids, but I'm watching WKRP in Cincinnati. Very underrated comedy."
"Oh, yeah, my parents watched that. I think you guys will get along great on Thursday."
He caught Eric trying to cover a yawn. "Go to sleep."
"I'm fi-"
"No, you're not fine. You're about two seconds away from passing out."
"Maybe, but if I say good night what I would really be saying to you is, 'I'm going to jump in bed with your daughter now,' and I don't want to die!"
Alvin suppressed a smile. He liked Eric, but was glad he feared him a bit. A little fear was healthy and worked in his favor. "Do you expect me to believe you and Angela have never slept in the same bed before?"
"There's just no good way to answer that."
"And I'd rather not think about the answer. So how about we both go to sleep."
"Separately, right?"
His eyebrows shot up. "I'm certainly not sharing a bed with you."
"Wait, I didn't mean-" He sighed. "It's been a long day."
"Good night, Eric."
"Good night, sir."
"Eric," he called out before the young man reached the staircase.
"Yeah?"
"Nothing's changed since you stayed at my apartment over spring break."
"I don't understand."
"I'm still a very light sleeper and have a gun under my pillow." He smiled at his blank, yet terrified expression. "Sleep tight."
/
"I was wondering when you were going to come up." Angela rolled over and draped her arm over Eric. "What took you so long?"
"Oh, you know…watching TV and talking to your dad." He lay flat on his back and stared at the ceiling. "Regular, ordinary stuff."
"That's nice. What did you- wait, we're going to bed. Why are you still dressed?"
"Because when the newspapers write about finding a body along the highway I'd like it to be a clothed body."
"What the hell are you talking about?" She shifted around and winced when she stubbed her toe on his sneaker. "You know how I feel about shoes in bed. It's disgusting. They have to go. Now."
"But-"
"Seriously, why are you being so weird?"
"How else am I supposed to act with your dad right downstairs?"
"What?"
"Your dad, you know…the guy who sleeps with a gun under his pillow." She laughed at him. "I'm glad my impending doom is so amusing."
"There is no impending doom."
"Quit laughing. He's going to think I'm doing stuff with you."
Angela tried to compose herself before she spoke again. "He's just trying to get in your head, babe."
"Mission accomplished."
"You never seem to care when it's Jack or Cory that could hear us and they're on either side of the walls. My dad is downstairs, in a bedroom at the back of the house and we're upstairs, in a bedroom at the front. We're nowhere near him."
"Fine, but I bet the military gave him supersonic hearing to go with the gun under his pillow. At least I know Jack and Cory won't kill me. I'm more useful to them alive. They need my share of the rent."
"My dad doesn't sleep with a gun under his pillow."
"You swear?"
"Cross my heart," she reassured him. "Now please get your gross, have spent all day in the outside world, shoes off of my bed."
Eric sat up and removed his shoes and ditched his jeans before once again laying beside Angela. "I'll be able to sleep now that I know he doesn't have his gun."
"I never said he didn't have his gun. I said it's not under his pillow. He always travels with one, but it's not like he carries it around 24/7. It's secured. My dad is nothing if not all about safety." She could feel him tensing up again and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "Relax. You've never been afraid of him before. In fact, you always brag about how much he likes you. Why the fear now?"
"It's like you said once: I've gone from the guy he thought wanted to sleep with his daughter to the guy who is sleeping with his daughter. I don't blame him for being protective."
"I don't need protecting."
"I know."
She leaned over him and turned off the lamp. "Boy, if you're this jumpy about my dad now what would you have done if I hadn't of panicked after you said you loved me?" The second the words left her mouth Angela kicked herself. "Wait, I-"
Eric sat up and switched the lamp back on. "Excuse me?"
"That didn't come out right."
"How was it supposed to come out?"
"I'm sorry." She averted her eyes, unable to face him as memories of the hurt she caused came rushing back to her.
"What were you going to say?" When Angela still didn't look at him, he took her hand and held it tight. "What were you going to say?"
"Forget it. It's stupid."
"Is this the part where I finally get to remind you you're not stupid?" She said nothing. "Come on, what was it?"
She took a deep breath before answering. "I was just going to say if I would've been honest about my feelings and not freaked out and ran away what do you think would've happened?"
"Sex?"
"Most likely, yes." She appreciated his honesty. "And instead of walking in on me running away-"
"Your dad would've found us in bed," Eric concluded. "So I guess in a way you saved my life that morning."
"That's what I was going to say, but I should know better than to make jokes about something that hurt you. I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not. I wasn't thinking."
"It's nice to know you have those not thinking moments, too."
"Still, I'll try not to do it again."
He wrapped his arms around Angela and pulled her close. "We don't have to turn this into a big thing. You made a mistake and could've picked your words better, but let's not make it more than it has to be."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." She hugged him tightly in return. "Thanks."
"Nothing to thank me for. God knows I've said enough dumb stuff. Anyway, bed time?" She nodded. "Can you set your alarm? My class isn't until ten but I need to stop at my place to change and get a book."
"Do you want me to set it to be awake before my dad to spare yourself the walk of shame into the kitchen later?" She intended it as a joke, but realized Eric might not be opposed to the option.
"Are you kidding? The man wakes up before the birds. Just remind me to put pants on before we go downstairs."
/
/
"Ow! Can I open my eyes yet?"
"Almost. Just a little further," Amy said. "Now turn right."
"Turn right?" Morgan opened her eyes and faced her parents. "My door is on the left. I know I've joked about being able to get to my room with my eyes closed, but it turns out I actually can. So…what's up? If you guys don't like the souvenirs there are better ways to let me know than having me bump into the walls." She put her hand on the doorknob. "At least let me put my suitcase away."
"Morgan, wait-"
She stepped into her room and found it wasn't her room at all, at least not the way she left it. There was a crib where her bed used to be. A changing table had taken over her study area. Gone were the pastel pink walls she'd chosen many years ago, when her life revolved around tea parties, dolls, and dreams of being a ballerina. Now the room was covered in a soft green and Winnie the Pooh and his friends were watching her from every corner. "What's going on?"
"We wanted it to be a surprise, but-"
"Where's my stuff?"
"Go to Cory and Eric's old room." Alan was relieved when she, for once, didn't argue. Although instead of bursting through the door like he expected, she just stood there. "What are you waiting for? Go in." He and Amy watched as she pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Well," he asked a minute or two later. "What do you think?"
Morgan was stunned. It was her dream bedroom right before her eyes. The walls were turquoise. That gross, old carpet was gone. The bedding set she'd circled in the catalog and showed her mom countless times was now on her bed. They even got the right posters for the walls: she'd have to rearrange the placement for a few of them, but mom and dad nailed the selections. It was, in a word, perfect. And yet there was something about this that made her uncomfortable. "You guys went through all my things?"
"What? Honey, no."
"Then how did you get everything in here? My clothes are in the closet, the boxes, on the shelf, and I'm assuming everything is in my dresser and desk. Then only way you could move my stuff is to go through it."
"No. we simply transferred everything from your old room to here," Amy explained. "Nothing came off of the hangers or left the drawers or boxes. We did have to take the drawers out of the dresser to move it, but they went right back in. There was no snooping."
"Do you have something to hide?"
"Alan-"
"No, dad, I'm not hiding anything."
"Then what's the big deal?"
"It's my stuff! I just want my privacy."
"We wanted to surprise you. Everyone helped: Eric, Cory, Shawn, Angela-"
"So everyone was involved but me, you know…the person whose room it actually is."
"I don't understand. I thought this is what you wanted."
"It is."
"Then what, you don't like it?"
"I love it! It's the perfect room."
"Then why are you yelling at us?"
"You did it all without me! I spent months planning out my dream room and I didn't get to do any of it."
Alan shook his head, at a loss for what to say. He thought this was the right thing to do, he and Amy both did. They thought for sure this would make Morgan happy. He was almost relieved when Joshua began to cry. At least his problems were easy to fix. "I'll get him."
Once they were alone Amy stepped inside the room and closed the door. Morgan was opening drawers at random, inspecting their contents. "I didn't snoop, honey, I swear, not even when I found your diary."
She whipped around. "You found my diary?"
"Under the mattress is the most common hiding spot, I think. Nana Boo Boo found mine when I hid it there."
"Did she read it?"
"When I was fifteen I came home from school one day and she began reading it aloud, right in front of two of my friends."
"Oh, man."
"I was mortified. She revealed my crush on a boy one of my friends was dating. I was never going to pursue him because he picked her, but she didn't see it that way and accused me of plotting to steal her boyfriend." She took a seat on the bed. "I lost a friend I'd had since fourth grade because your Nana couldn't mind her business. I always vowed I'd never do that to my kids unless I felt like they were in real danger. So no, I didn't snoop and I made sure no one else did either."
"Okay."
"I'm sorry we didn't wait for you to do the room switch. I didn't realize how important it was to you to be here. We just wanted to finally get it done for you and thought it would be a nice surprise." Morgan didn't say anything. "I don't know if it will help, but we did give you something we never let your brothers have."
"What?" She looked to where her mother was pointing. "My own phone?"
"It's not your own exclusive phone line, but you'll be able to have some privacy and quiet when talking to your friends."
"Thank you."
"There are conditions though."
She rolled her eyes. "Of course."
"Your homework can't suffer once school starts again. If you don't do your work because you're constantly on the phone, it's gone."
"That's fair."
"No calls after ten. On school nights the curfew is going to be nine unless it's a call about homework, but the weekends will have the ten o'clock curfew."
Morgan thought nine was too early, but she had a while before she had to worry about the school curfew. She couldn't wait until her friends knew she had a phone in her room. She didn't think any of them had one yet. Sure, it wasn't a personal phone line, but it was something.
"So I'll let you unpack. Come down in a little while for lunch, okay?"
"Okay."
She ran a hand through her daughter's hair and wondered if it was possible she'd grown taller during the couple weeks she was away. "It's nice to have you home, honey."
"Thanks."
It was hardly the reaction Amy wanted, but at least every other word wasn't an argument right now. It was a small victory, but she'd take it.
/
/
"…no, see, if I could buy and restore any car it would be a '60 Chevy Impala. My grandpa taught me to drive in his."
"Nice," Alan said. "I learned to drive in my mom's '67 Plymouth Fury."
"That's a good car. When I enlisted the drill sergeant had one. It may or may not have been egged a few times when he was being a jackass during boot camp."
"Man, you were extremely brave or extraordinarily stupid."
"Neither, it wasn't me," Alvin admitted over a shared laugh. "I already stuck out because of my height. I wasn't about to draw any unnecessary attention to myself."
"Smart. Keep your head down, shut up, and do your job."
"Exactly." He accepted the beer Alan offered. "So Eric says you own a camping store?"
"More a combination of wilderness and sporting goods…we pretty much have a little of everything."
"It sounds like my kind of place."
"You like camping and fishing?"
"Are you kidding? My dream retirement is a cabin on a lake with boat. I'd be just far enough away that people won't want to visit often, but close enough to things that I can get supplies."
"We could be neighbors, neighbors who live five miles away, but still neighbors."
"Sounds like my kind of neighbor."
The men jumped when music came blasting from the house. "Morgan," Alan shouted, looking up at his daughter's open bedroom window, "turn that down!" He shook his head. "I guess that's what is passing for music nowadays."
"Really, now, old man Matthews," Amy teased. "Britney Spears' songs aren't that bad. It wouldn't kill her to wear a little more clothing, but the music has a beat." She handed over a tray of hot dogs. "You'll have to excuse him, Alvin. He's still waiting for Creedence Clearwater Revival to get back together."
"CCR? Who isn't?"
"See, Amy, it's not just me," he gloated to his wife.
"You ever see 'em live?"
"I wish. You?"
"Once, right before they split. My uncle took me to a concert."
"Lucky."
"When Angela was a baby the only way she'd fall asleep for me was if I'd sing Lookin' Out My Back Door." He shook his head. "It drove her mother nuts. My ex-wife is a musician and didn't consider it stimulating enough for the baby. But in my opinion, if it stopped the baby crying at two in the morning it was obviously stimulating enough."
"Sounds like my kind of thinking."
"Okay, dad, I think we got everything left on your list," Eric called out as he and Angela walked up the driveway hand in hand. "But how did you plan to have a barbecue with an empty propane tank?"
"Sorry, I guess I was too busy running my business to keep track of everything."
He rolled his eyes and set the tank down by the grill. "I'm going to bring mom the groceries."
/
Shawn felt a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach as Cory pulled in front of his parents' home. It was the exact opposite of how he usually felt coming to this house, but most times he visited didn't include Angela and her father. He wasn't sure what she had told him about their break up. He met the man once, briefly, after their graduation. "I don't know if this is a good idea, Cor. Maybe I should leave. You can bring me a plate."
"No, Shawnie, come on, you can't leave me alone."
"But Angela and her dad and-"
"You agreed to give it a shot before you bailed. Giving it a shot means you have to walk into the house first."
"What if-"
"Besides, isn't Jack stopping by, too?"
"Yeah, after his shift at the bank."
"See? Your brother will be there! That's more support for you."
"Let's face it, Jack is more Eric's friend than my brother."
"That's not true."
"Why not? It's true for us. I'm way more your best friend than Jack's brother." He stared out the window. "He's practically a stranger to me compared to how well I know you."
Cory saw the faraway look in his eye and heard the regret in his voice. If he didn't intervene now Shawn would work himself down into a moping spell to get himself out of the meal. If it was any other day, he'd probably fall for it, but he didn't want to be here alone. "Get out of the car."
"What?"
"You are not leaving me along in there. You promised. Get out of the car and into the house."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"And if I don't?"
"I'll put you over my shoulder and carry you in." He saw the look of disbelief on his friend's face. "You don't believe me? I'm a lot stronger than I used to be, pal. I put up the display of kayaks at the store all by myself."
Shawn raised his hands in defeat. "Okay, fine. I give up."
"Yay!"
"I'll give it an hour."
"Thank you."
"But if Angela's father goes after me I'm totally expecting you to use your kayak strength to defend me."
"Wait…what? But isn't he like a giant or something? What if he kills me?"
"A death in the name of friendship is a noble way to go."
"I hate you."
"Love you, too, Cor."
/
/
"...you know this story, Eric."
"No, mom, I would remember hearing that you and dad almost gave me another name." They'd been sitting around picnic tables outside, various conversations happening all around when Eric caught an interesting piece of info being shared between his mom and Dean Bolander.
"What's the story, Amy," Angela asked.
"After thirty-six, brutal, agonizing hours of labor-"
"Argh! Mom, please. Not in front of the girlfriend."
"Sorry, honey. Angela, did I mention that he was nearly a week overdue as well?"
"I'm begging you, what do you want? Extra flowers on your birthday? Cash on Mother's day? New oven mitts?"
"Oven mitts?"
"It's about where my budget's at right now."
"How about you be quiet and let me finish the story?"
Eric sunk down in his chair. "Go ahead."
"Okay, like I was saying: after a long thirty-six hours he was finally born. The nurse asked us if we had a name picked out. We did: Aaron. She smiled and said it was so cute that we were going to be the 'A family'. Then she asked if we planned to give any future children names that started with A as well. That killed it for us and Aaron was off the table. There was a baby name book in the recovery room and dad opened it to a random page and there in the middle was Eric. We liked the meaning and it sounded similar enough to Aaron without turning us into 'the A family.' So you became Eric."
"Thank goodness for that nurse. I can't imagine being Aaron."
"It sounds so similar," Jack pointed out. "How different would it be?"
"Hello, Aaron's a dork name."
"Well..." He grabbed his shin. "Ow."
"Sorry," Angela apologized, not sounding sincere at all. "Was that your leg? I was stretching."
"Young lady, that was obviously a lie."
She stared at her plate and mumbled, "Sorry, dad."
"I can share how you got your name, too, you know?"
"There's a story?"
"Of course there's a story."
"I've never heard it."
"You were named after the Stevie Wonder song, Angie Girl. Whenever we'd put on the record and that song would play you'd move like crazy in your mom's stomach. You moved so much we could see the indents of your feet, knees, and elbows." Alvin shook his head. "It crazy, but cool. Your mom said it must be your way of picking your name because you didn't react to any other music as strongly. Until you were two we called you Angie or June Bug."
"What changed when I was two?"
"You could vocalize your preferences," he noted with a chuckle. "Your first full sentences were, 'I no Annie. I Anela.'"
"Anela?"
"You had some issues with the letter g."
Even Shawn found himself laughing at the anecdotes. It hadn't been nearly as awkward as he'd feared. Her dad was intimidating, but didn't seem to outright hate him. Still, he'd swear the man was sneaking glares his way every so often. And it wasn't easy to see Angela happy, in love, and carefree- even if that's what he wanted for her. However, he sensed something- tension, maybe anger- when her dad brought up her mom. As much as he'd like to take her aside and ask about it, was that even his place anymore? So he'd spent most of the meal listening to Mr. Feeny and Dean Bolander gush over their honeymoon in Prague. Shawn was thrilled for the old man. If anyone deserved to be happy and find love it was him.
"Mom, is there any dessert?"
"Eric," she scoffed, "we barely finished eating."
"I know, but…I just…I like dessert. And you are the best baker I know."
"Nice recovery, honey."
"I thought so."
"There is a cake. I'll get it in just a minute." The baby began to fuss from his bouncy chair. "Oh, Josh, we must work on your timing."
"I've got him." Alan bent down and removed his son from the chair. "What's wrong, Joshua? Are you smelling all this delicious food and are jealous you can't eat it yet?" He swayed back and forth and patted the baby's back. "Soon enough. You just need some teeth first."
Alvin shook his head. "I cannot imagine starting all over with a baby again. It was exhausting enough in my twenties."
"Thanks, dad."
"It's nothing personal, sweetheart. Babies are a lot of work."
"Okay, everyone, cake time!"
"Ooh, I want the biggest piece."
"You don't even know what kind of cake it is," Angela pointed out to her boyfriend.
"Hello, my mommy made it. What kind it is doesn't matter. It's going to be good."
Angela was surprised when Amy walked around the table and placed the cake directly in front of her. On the top, decorated with some sort of delicious looking frosting, it read in a fancy script: Happy Birthday, Angela. "What's this?"
"A little birdie told me you have a birthday coming up in a few days."
She looked at Eric, who had a sheepish expression on his face. "A little birdie, huh? Sounds like your little birdie has a big mouth and a name that sounds suspiciously similar to Aaron."
"Watch it, Anela." He matched her smirk with one of his own. "I didn't tell her to make a cake. I just said I was bummed because I have to wait to celebrate with you until after you get back from Boston." There, that sounded better than admitting he only mentioned her birthday while sniffing out odd jobs for extra money for her gift. "Mom's smart and put two and five together."
Alvin furrowed his brow. "Two and five? But-"
Mr. Feeny held up his hand. "Don't. You'll be much happier if you let it go. Trust me on this."
/
/
"Ow! Will you move over?"
"There's no over for me to move to." After the eating was done, Cory and Shawn decided to see how Morgan liked the set up of her new room. No matter how badly he wanted to, Cory managed to keep his opinions on her furniture placement to himself. Then he decided to check out the tree house. It had been years since he'd been inside. "How did we fit in here?"
"Forget us, we'd have two or three other kids, too. But now-"
"Now this may be where we live because I can't move." He quit talking when he heard voices down below. His dad was talking to Angela's dad again. "Man, who knew they'd get along so well," he whispered.
"Why are you whispering?"
"Because outside of his silver gloves my dad says nothing about being in the Navy. I want to know more. Now hush!"
/
"You ever see any action?"
"I only served six years, but I did some surveillance missions during the Cold War," Alan explained. "I was never claustrophobic until then. But months on a sub will do that to you. I got lucky and never saw combat. I was in the reserves my last two years. How about you?"
"I spent most of the 80's stationed all over Europe. Angela was born in Belgium. But by far the worst I've experienced was the Persian Gulf. It was the only time I ever came home hurt. I lost a lot of friends then, too."
"Sorry."
"You know how it is."
Alan nodded. "Yeah. I remember when-"
/
"Wow," Cory said, "are you hearing this?"
"Yeah, it's rough."
"I think it's the documentary I've been waiting for." The deadline for the NYU competition was approaching and he'd had nothing…until now.
"What?"
"Think about it: two men who are roughly the same age, both fathers, both in the military, one serves temporarily before going back to lead a regular family life, and the other has been serving for over twenty years. It makes for a compelling story, don't you think?"
"Sure, I guess, but shouldn't you ask them first? What if they're not okay with it? What about your mom? And Angela…you'd have to run it by her."
"Pssh," he scoffed. "That's just details. There's a movie here. I know there is."