Twenty-One and Invincible

I left the office at six in order to be home for dinner by seven. That was my daily routine: wake up, get presentable, go to work, eat lunch with Gabie (a Greek salad and an iced tea), play Solitaire during slow hours, come home, eat dinner, help Grandma clean the house after one of Grandpa’s misadventures, then collapse in my bed. That’s how it was every day.

Today though, there was a disruption in my routine. Namely my new famous neighbour who was joining us for dinner. I’d almost forgotten that Grandma had invited him until I pulled into the driveway and saw his head through the kitchen window. Apparently he was helping Grandma take the plates of food into the dining room.

I killed the engine and went inside. Our house wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t huge. It wasn’t run down, but it definitely wasn’t considered to be upper-class--the neighbourhood itself was very low-key, very suburban and very uncharacteristic of a place where a superstar like Patrick Kane would want to live. From what I’d heard in tabloids about him, he was constantly partying, getting drunk, enjoying the night life. Around my neighbourhood full of young kids and elderly folk, that seemed so...atypical.

We all sat at the table, Grandpa sitting at his claimed seat at the head with Grandma at the other end. Patrick sat across from me quietly, unsure if we were the type of family who would say grace before a meal or if we just dove right into the food. I saw him glance at Grandpa, who was already taking his first bite of beef tenderloin. Patrick decided it was okay to start.

“So,” Grandma started. “How was work today, Carmen?”

She always asked the same question every day and my answer was always the same. “It was good.”

“So, Mr. Patrick Kane,” Grandpa suddenly said in a very loud voice. I don’t think he meant to shout, but judging by Patrick’s reaction at his volume, it had at least gotten his full attention. “What’s a famous NHL player like you doing living around here?”

“I was actually looking for someplace quieter to settle down,” Patrick shrugged. “I was living in the heart of downtown Chicago for the longest time in a high-rise apartment building. After a while, all the noise and the people kind of get to you. I mean, I’m surrounded by all that every day at work, so I figured finding someplace quieter would be nice to come home to.”

“It’s a very lovely neighbourhood,” Grandma agreed. “No crimes in this area.”

“There was one a few years ago,” I corrected. “But it was just a breaking and entering. And the police caught the kid I think a few hours after.”

“Damn fool teenagers,” Grandpa huffed. “If someone tried to come into this house and steal what’s mine, I’d show them who’s boss the way we did in the forties.”

“Grandpa!” I hissed. “That’s not exactly dinner table talk.”

“You brought up the subject,” he stated.

I sighed. He was in one of his moods. Of all times too, when company was over.

“So,” Patrick said after a long silence. “Carmen, how’d you get that job at the magazine?”

“Well, I wanted to go into publishing,” I explained. “Maybe become a journalist or a critic or something along those lines. And so I applied to a bunch of different places, but no one was really hiring. Then my friend Gabie told me there was a receptionist opening at Savoir and that I could work my way up from there, so I’m doing my best.”

Patrick nodded. “And they have a dress code?”

I shrugged. “It’s a fashion magazine. You’ve got to look the part.”

I picked at my food. I could feel Patrick’s eyes on me the entire time, watching me intently. I didn’t know if he was just being creepy for the fun of it or if he was actually scrutinizing my appearance. He’d already made one quip today about my makeup. I just prayed he wouldn’t make it two in front of my grandparents.

“So,” Grandma began. Apparently that’s how every sentence was started as a new conversation came up. “How much money do you make, Patrick?”

I almost spat out the water I had been sipping.

“Grandma!” I sputtered. “That’s not dinner talk either!”

“It’s an honest question,” Grandma shrugged. Then she leaned over to me and whispered, “After all, I want to make sure that if you two do get involved that things work out...you know, long-term.”

Grandma’s hearing is a bit shotty too, and so her idea of whispering is speaking just slightly quieter than average. Patrick had his chin tucked down, staring into his lap, trying really hard to suppress his laughter. I’m not sure if Grandma noticed or not. Grandpa definitely didn’t, he was too busy changing the subject.

“I found a bat in the basement today.”

We all stopped and stared at him. “Huh?”

“You heard me, I found a bat in the basement today,” he said roughly. “Captured it with a garbage bag. Had it cornered and everything.”

I looked over at Patrick warily who was looking at Grandpa with great interest.

I was almost afraid to ask. “Did you let the bat go, Grandpa?”

He scoffed. “Absolutely not. I killed it right there in the basement. Anything living comes across me, it’s dead.”

We all stayed relatively quiet after that. I think for Patrick, fear played a tiny factor. Not that I blamed him by any means. But apparently my grandparents both liked him because at the end of dinner, Grandpa held his hand out for Patrick to shake.

“It was nice having you over, Patrick,” he said. “You’ll have to come back and have dinner with us again sometime.”

Patrick glanced over to me. I think the only word to describe my face would be mortification. He grinned that infamous grin and nodded, firmly shaking Grandpa’s hand. “It’d be my pleasure, sir.”

Patrick was heading for the door when Grandma perked up. “Carmen, why don’t you walk him back to his house?”

My shoulders slumped. “Grandma, it’s just across the street!”

“Oh, go on,” she winked, making it very obvious. “What are neighbours for, anyway?”

I wanted to die. But I never could say no to my grandparents, so I followed Patrick out the door into the cool Chicago night.

“That was interesting,” he laughed once we were halfway down the driveway. “Is it always like that in your house?”

I nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. But usually when company is over, my grandpa acts a little less...well, abrasive.”

“I think your grandpa’s cool,” Patrick shrugged. “And your grandma seems to like me.”

My cheeks flushed. “Evidently so.”

We got to his front door. “So, when are you going to let me take you out to dinner instead of having these awkward family conversations?”

I stared at him for a long time. “Uhhhh...”

“Just think about it,” Patrick smiled. “Night, Carmen.”

“Goodnight, Patrick,” I said as I turned on my heel and started to walk back to my house.

“Oh, and Carmen?” he called out.

I turned to look at him.

After a few seconds, he said, “I think you look really pretty.” Then he retreated inside. I just kept walking.