TIME’S UP

“Jesus Christ, Marco! I’m a nervous wreck!” wailed Tina. “Meeting your mother for the first time is freaking me out! Do I look ok? What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Are you kidding me, babe? You look great! She’s gonna love you! Besides … my mother thinks we’re just friends; she won’t be judging you!” replied Marco with a huge grin and a bit too much enthusiasm as he selected his mother’s favorite Dean Martin record.

“But honey, you’ve told me how your mother scrutinizes everything with an eagle eye and doesn’t miss a trick. I’m scared of her and we haven’t even met yet! The pressure is killing me! What if she figures out we haven’t been honest with her?” Tina was getting frantic.

Marco reached out and pulled her close, giving her a comforting hug. His mother never liked any of his gitlfriends, saying no one was good enough for him. Just this once Marco wanted her to likr being with Tina for who she was, without any preconceived notions – even if it meant keeping the truth from her for a while.

“Babe, try to relax. Ma’s bark is worse than her bite. I promise, there’s nothing to worry about. You’re getting yourself all worked up for no reason. When my mother finally hears the truth, it won’t matter that we didn’t tell her right away; she’ll already be crazy about you! I’m not a little boy and I don’t need my mother’s permission for anything. As long as Dean Martin is playing in the background, she’ll be fine.” It sounded to Tina like Marco was trying to convince himself as well as her.

The ring of the doorbell was expected but it still startled Marco and Tina. Carrying a box of Italian pastries, Marco’s mother Francesca arrived promptly at 6:00 – ready and quite curious to meet this woman sharing her son’s new house. Introductions were made, niceties exchanged and then Tina excused herself to check on dinner. “She certainly knows her way around the kitchen well enough; maybe her cooking won’t be so bad” Francesca thought hopefully while keeping a close eye on her son’s “house mate”.

While Tina put the finishing touches on dinner, Marco brought out some appetizers. “Ah, bruschetta!” exclaimed Francesca but when she bit into the small thin slice of toasted Italian bread, she discovered the topping was raw meat. “It’s steak tartare, Ma” explained Marco. Francesca made a horrified face and hastily deposited her half-chewed mouthful into a paper napkin. “O Dio mio! Raw meat will give you food poisoning!” Francesca exclaimed. “I hope the rest of the meal is cooked”, she thought.

In an attempt to calm his mother down and get her mind off the failed appetizers, Marco decided to give her a tour of the house he shared with Tina.

“Look, Ma. Isn’t this nice? A large airy kitchen with an island and plenty of room for a table and chairs. Here’s the dining room with a buffet and hutch filled with glasses and dishes that belonged to Tina’s great-grandmother. Isn’t the furniture beautiful? We got at a Roma’s in Brooklyn, imported from Italy. We even have a fenced-in backyard and patio with a barbecue grill. But the best part is two big bedrooms, each with a separate bathroom so there’s no fighting over who gets to shower first.”

Marco realized he was saying too much and talking way too fast; he laughed self-consciously, feeling like he was 10 years old again and his mother’s laser eyes were burning right through his skull after catching him in a lie. He squirmed uncomfortably and quickly closed the bathroom door when he noticed the towels that were on the rack were embroidered with the words “HIS” and “HERS”.

Francesca just nodded her head and mumbled “That’s nice” every so often; she may have seemed indifferent but that was far from true. If Francesca saw the bathroom towels, she gave no indication. Now Marco was nervous about that … a careless mistake on his part.

“Come in the kitchen, Ma. Let’s have a nice glass of wine to celebrate your first visit to our house” Marco suggested.

“Our house” thought Francesca.

Francesca sipped her wine and silently simmered on a low boil, her thoughts working overtime while Marco and Tina puttered around the kitchen. “Well, Tina certainly made herself right at home, bringing over all her great-grandmother’s dishes and glasses! I don’t get it. Unmarried men and women sharing a house?” Francesca asked herself. “Maybe in a big house with five or six other people and a lot of bedrooms, but an intimate space with two people of the opposite sex? I don’t like it! And how come the bedrooms have such big beds? Something fishy’s going on here!” Francesca tapped her foot impatiently, her eyes taking everything in.

Finally dinner was ready; throughout the meal, Francesca couldn’t help noticing how attentive Tina was to Marco. By now she was very suspicious about their relationship; she was sure there was more than just friendship between the two of them and their little interactions further convinced her there was something brewing between her son and his “house mate”.

Recognizing the look on his mother’s face, Marco said “I know what you’re thinking, Ma, but I told you before – Tina and I are just friends. House mates. Don’t go making a big deal out of nothing.” Francesca smiled thinly and replied “Whatever you say, Marco”. But in her head she was thinking “House mates, my ass!”

About a week later Tina said to Marco “I know this is gonna sound crazy but I can’t find the napkin rings I used the night your mother was here. I’ve looked everywhere for them. You don’t think your mother took them, do you?”

“Well, I can’t imagine why she’d do that”, Marco replied, “but there’s only one way to find out. I’ll send her an email.”

Dear Ma – Crazy question! Tina’s napkin rings are missing. Now, I’m not saying you TOOK the napkin rings and I’m not saying you DIDN’T take them but they have been missing since you were here the other night and you were the only other person to see them. Love, Marco

A reply came through one minute later:

Dear Marco – Funny you should ask! Now, I’m not saying that you DO sleep with Tina and I’m not saying that you DON’T sleep with her but if she was sleeping alone in her OWN bed she would have found the napkin rings by now – under her pillow. Love, Ma

Oh, by the way, I saw the towels, too.