Page 32 of Inside Out

“Yeah, I bet,” Michele said.

“Nice save, sis.”

“No way I looked hungrier at the Mustang than—”

“I’m out,” I said, cutting off Ben. I walked over to the sitting area where my parents and Aunt Astrid waited. “Hello, Mom,” I said, hugging her tight. “I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you too, Rome,” she said, pulling back and cupping my face. Amelia Bradley narrowed her eyes as she studied me. “Something is different than the last time I saw you.”

“I didn’t have any cosmetic work done, Mom.”

“Not that,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s internal.”

“Don’t start with that aura crap, Amelia,” my dad said. He was slower to get up because of his arthritic knees, but at seventy years old, he still towered over me.

“It’s not crap, Dan,” she chided. “See for yourself. Our boy looks happier than I’ve seen him look in years.”

I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I am happy. I love my job and new town. I’m even directing the school play this year. It was written by three students, and I’m going to make sure you all have tickets because I know it’s going to be spectacular.”

“Even me?” Aunt Astrid asked from her wheelchair.

I pulled free of my mom and walked over to kneel in front of my favorite aunt. Despite her weird gifts, I loved this woman immeasurably. She’d never married nor had children of her own, so she had claimed me when I was a boy. I owed my love of theater and fine arts to Aunt Astrid because she took me to countless shows and museums during my childhood. She was the one who encouraged me to try out for my first play, and she never missed a performance since. Astrid was a dancer and a model in her youth and had never seen herself settling down. She had always doted on us and was an honorary aunt to many of her friends’ children. I was always her favorite.

“Especially you,” I said sincerely. “I’ll have a front row seat for you.”

“I’m glad I brought you a new scarf then,” she said then tipped her head toward her cavernous handbag on the floor. It reminded me a lot of Mary Poppins’s carpetbag. “Hand that to me, will you?”

I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t say no to her. I picked the bag up and was surprised it was so heavy. “What in the world do you have in here?”

“I think she stole the toaster from ‘the home’ again,” Dad said in a mock whisper.

“Amelia,” Aunt Astrid said shrilly, “I still think you could’ve done better than this guy. It’s not too late you know. You’re still young enough to snag you a good one.” Astrid cackled gleefully. “I still get plenty of action at my age.” The rest of us groaned because we didn’t want to think about Astrid getting it on with her geriatric guys. “What? A woman has needs.”

“Kindly remember there are children in the room,” my mother admonished, but she couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice.

“Ashley,” Astrid said, mimicking Scarlet O’Hara, “I have a housewarming gift for you, and I contributed to dinner.”

“Oh, Aunt Astrid, you shouldn’t have,” my sister said, and I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning.

“It’s rude to show up without gifts. I have limited access, you see, since they took my computer away for watching my favorite sites for p—”

“Astrid!” Mother shrieked. Michele and Laurel giggled, but I figured it was more from their grandmother’s outburst than them knowing what Astrid had been about to say. At least I hoped.

Astrid stuck a finger in her ear and wiggled it around like perhaps her ears were ringing. “I was going to say programs, Amelia.”

She was going to say porn, and we all knew it. Astrid had fallen asleep while watching gay porn on her laptop one time too many and lost the privilege. She’d told me it was research to make sure I was doing things properly. I had died from mortification but thanked her for her thoughtfulness anyway. Just remembering the conversation made my face flush with embarrassment.

“You do look different,” Astrid said, searching my face.

“That’s your cataracts,” my dad said from behind me. “Rome looks the same as he always does.”

“No, he doesn’t,” all the ladies, including my nieces, chimed in.

“He looks more relaxed,” Michele said.

“Yeah, less tense,” Laurel agreed.

“He looks like he got laid,” Astrid said.