It’s late when I get home but luckily my parents are still up, watching re-runs of Seinfeld.
“Mom, Dad, we have to talk,” I tell them, sitting in the reclining chair they’ve had since I was in elementary school.
“Oh?” my mom says, turning her head to look at me.
She looks great. The treatment she started undergoing is a lot gentler on her body than the regimen she had been on under Dr. Oslo. Her smile is vibrant and sincerely happy.
“I have some news you’re not going to be able to believe,” I tell them, deciding that the best way is to just come straight out with it.
“Oh really?” my mom asks, with that hint of curiosity and alarm in her voice that only my mother can mix together in one tone so well.
“Yes,” I tell her, and then I take Isaac’s ring out of my pocket. “Surprise.”
“What in the…?” my dad starts to say, but my mom rushes over and holds up my hand.
“Is that three karats?” she asks me, astonished.
I laugh.
“I don’t even know,” I tell her. “But isn’t it beautiful?”
“It sure is. Where did you get it?”
“I think the better question is where did you get it from?” Dad asks. “Or rather, who gave it to you? Why have we never even heard of him before?”
His voice is stern so I look at my mom for reassurance. She’s just giving me a blank look, as if I have a lot of explaining to do. And I guess I do.
“I met a guy named Isaac when I was out with Stacy,” I tell them, which is the truth. “And, we got involved in a little whirlwind romance.”
“Well I’d say,” my dad says. “This explains why we never see you around here anymore.”
“I know you probably think I’m crazy,” I tell them, “but we’re in love. For real. And we’re getting married.”
“Well, that much is obvious,” my mom says, fanning herself at the sight of my ring all over again. “So why haven’t you told us?”
“He’s… older than me, for one,” I say. “And he’s… filthy stinking rich.”
“You don’t say,” my mom says, pointing to the diamond as if she still can’t get over it.
“I didn’t want you to think I was just…”
“Using him for his money?” my mom asks.
“Yeah, like I wanted to be sure this was real love. And I didn’t want you to talk me out of it. So we went ahead and planned a wedding date.”
“Veronica…” My dad starts, in a warning voice.
But my mom cuts him off.
“I think it’s rather romantic,” she says. “Your dad and I only dated for six months before we got married. But that’s because I was…”
She trails off.
“Did he knock you up?” my dad demands, raising his voice. “I’ll kill him if he…”
“No,” I tell them, quickly, “it’s nothing like that. We just don’t see the point in waiting. And also…”
“Woo hoo,” says my mom, interrupting me and hugging me as if she’d just won the lottery. “Because you don’t know how hard it is to start off a marriage with a baby on the way. No offense.”
I smile at her. If she knew how my fake-turned-real engagement had started off, she’d realize she has nothing on me.
“I’m just glad you’re not pregnant,” my dad says. “Do what you want, I suppose. You’re a grown adult. We did our part and now it’s up to you from here on out, kid.”
I laugh. I suppose I should have started out by making them think I was pregnant, so that they’d be this relieved and happy a lot earlier on in the conversation.
“Sorry,” Mom says. “The news of your non-pregnancy overshadowed something you were trying to say to me.”
“Oh yeah,” I tell her. “One reason we’re getting married so soon is that Isaac’s father is… not well.”
“I’m sorry,” Mom says, grabbing my hand in condolence. “I know too well how hard that can be.”
“Yeah, I guess we kind of bonded through that… common experience,” I tell her, but then I hurry to differentiate it. “But Isaac’s dad’s situation is… not good, whereas yours is good now. You’re going to be just fine, Mom. I know it.”
She smiles at me and I can tell she wants to believe it, that she’s close to believing it. She just doesn’t want to get her hopes up, only to have them dashed like last time. So I’d better tell her the rest of it.
“Mom, the good news is, that he’s offered…” I gulp, because this part isn’t exactly true, but close enough, “…to pay for your cancer treatments. Anything you want, we can take care of it.”
“Oh honey,” my mom says, throwing her arms around me. “That’s so nice of you. But you don’t have to. I don’t want to be a burden on you.”
“You’re not at all,” I tell her. “I want this for you.”
It’s the whole reason I did this, I want to tell her. But I ended up so glad I did it for me, rather than just for you.
“Okay,” Mom says, “Well, if he has the money, I guess why not.”
“Why not indeed?” I ask, so happy that things seem to be working out.
The first treatment has gone much better than the specialists could have even hoped, and they’re only supposed to get better from here on out, so long as there’s money to keep doing them. And now, there is.
“So, when do we get to meet him?” Mom asks.
“Well,” I say, grinning that the most surprising news of all is yet to be revealed. “Our wedding is this weekend.”