going to do it at the high school, they just installed that nice turf.
“Hey, Dominick, you’re gonna be my number one pick, so you
better bring your A game! I’m expecting you to destroy people, you hear
me?
“No, let’s be honest, people aren’t going to be up to soccer on
Sunday. We’ll save that for next weekend, cool?”
I head over to check on the inhabitants of the kitchen. Steadily
munching their way through pizza and starting to work on the bags
of chips, a couple of my classmates are obviously enjoying the “light”
refreshments arrayed on the counter. Lying untouched is a salad that my
mother prepared in a desperate attempt at healthiness. I shake my head
at the futile gesture and, craning my head, spot her in the crowd, flitting
around and ensuring that everyone is having a great time. I move towards
her, a snarky smile plastered on my face, and catch her eye. Noticing me,
my mom politely extracts herself from the conversation and says “This is
going really well! Everyone seems to be really enjoying themselves.”
“You most of all,” I reply, bending down to plant a kiss on the
top of her head. My mother is incredibly short, and our family never lets
her forget it. I take the opportunity to refresh my declaration that her
tiny stature is the reason I would never reach six feet tall. Completing
the ritual, my mother retorts that, without her, I wouldn’t have my
intelligence. Seizing the opportunity, I riposte, “Well, well...no one is
eating your salad!” Skipping out of swatting range, I chuckle and beat a
hasty retreat into the sun room.
In the process, I run into my father. Standing nearly six feet tall,
he cuts an imposing figure, especially considering the predominantly
short height of Indian men. I have to stifle my laughter at viewing him
in this room. He hates it with a passion. A few months ago, my mother
had come up with the idea of this adjunct, and finally, after countless
arguments, swayed my father into building it for her. Despite its beauty,
the cost alone is enough to ensure that my father, a thrifty man, will never
vindicate its existence. He greets me with a smile and a tray of assorted
goodies, which I politely decline. Even running around greeting guests, I
have had several shares of pizza more than I should have. “Any more and
I might actually explode,” I inform him seriously. “In that case, we will
ask some of your friends if they would like anything,” he responds with
a twinkle in his eye. I open my mouth to say that they were probably
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