"Sunday Dinner" "Mother, remember Linda's baby brother? The shy, quiet one who plays baseball?" No, that'll never work, Ginger thought, making a face at her reflection in the mirror and shaking her head. She could feel all her muscles tighten as a thousand different scenarios of what could happen--what was about to happen--descended upon her like a swarm of locusts. "Mother, remember how you said I should stop moping about Charlie? Well... I have..." She cringed--no, that wasn't going to work either. And now the smile on her face was beginning to quiver, much to her horror. She was losing her nerves with each second that passed by, and she still wasn't even close to figuring out how in the world she was going to tell her mother that she was now dating Jeff Metcalf. Of course if Anne Metcalf's reaction was any indication, she would need to prepare herself for the worst tonight. Mrs. Metcalf had tried to be sweet about the whole thing, but there was no denying that news of her youngest child dating her daughter's best friend had thrown her for a loop. And if it had thrown her for a loop, it might just cause a nervous breakdown for her own mother. "Mother, remember-" "Did you just call my name, Virginia?" Ginger gasped and whirled around, seeing her mother's head poke through the half-open door. "Oh I... I didn't know you were upstairs," she said, knowing full well her smile was probably as weak as her stomach felt right now. "That's funny," Mrs. Szabo said, coming into the room and sitting herself on Ginger's bed. "I could have sworn I heard you say 'Mother.' Hmm, it must have been my imagination." She frowned and reached up to touch Ginger's hair. "Oh Virginia," she sighed, "haven't I told you a million times you should wear your hair down? It's so much more flattering that way..." Ginger nodded and continued to smile though her cheeks hurt. Better to let this comment go, she thought. She couldn't have her upset over her hair when there were more important things to talk about. "Mother," she began. The lump in her throat was beginning to choke her. "Mmm hmm?" Her mother was still busy fussing with her hair, which was bothering Ginger even more than usual right at the moment. "Y-you've met Linda's brother, right?" "Well of course, dear... How is he, by the way? Why I don't think I've talked to him since he stopped by the store to thank me for the cake I made for his wedding reception. What a delightful young man. And that wife of his-" "No, Mother, not Hank... I-I meant... her other brother, Jeff." Mrs. Szabo finally quit fixing her daughter's locks and paused to think. "Her younger brother?" she said, looking as if she were trying to form a mental image of him in her mind. Suddenly, she let out a chuckle. "Oh of course, how could I forget him," she said. "How old is he now, darling? Why, he must be finished with high school now, isn't he?" Ginger tried not to let her annoyance at the remark show on her face. "He's long since finished with high school, Mother," she said through gritted teeth. "I-in fact, he's all grown up now!" "That's nice, dear." Apparently, her mother had already tired of the conversation, once again returning her attention to Ginger's hair. All right, maybe I should stop beating around the bush, Ginger thought. It was time to throw caution to the wind now. "Are you and Dad going to be busy this Sunday?" "We don't have anything special planned. Just church in the morning, and maybe a nice brunch at home. Why?" "Well I was wondering if... if you'd mind if I had someone over for dinner..." Mrs. Szabo's hands slid to her daughter's arms, surprising Ginger with the tightness of their grip. "Don't tell me," she said. The excitement on her face was all too apparent. "You've met a young man? Oh Virginia, have you met someone?" "You could say that-" "Is he Catholic?" "Yes-" "Oh God in heaven! I am so relieved! I could have strangled that Charlie Hailey with my bare hands for standing you up at the altar--after we had paid good money to buy you that dress, not to mention filling your hope chest with so many things that can't be returned now... Well, that's water under the bridge, because now you've found a new suitor. Oh Virginia..." She cupped Ginger's face. "Tell me all about him. I want to hear all about him!" Ginger smiled and said a quick prayer in her mind before diving into the ocean... "So how'd it go?" "How do you think it went, Jeff?" Ginger snapped, then instantly regretting taking out her frustration on him. "I'm sorry," she muttered, "I don't mean to be a sourpuss..." She could hear him stifling his laughter on the other end, and somehow, it brought a smile to her face as well. "Well, what did she say?" "It wasn't what she said, exactly. For a while she couldn't even speak. She just kept looking at me, Jeff, and I swear her eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets. I was surprised she didn't hyper-ventilate right then and there..." "Good Lord, it's worse than I thought. D-does she want me to stop seeing you?" "No, she didn't say that. But she definitely wants you to come over for dinner." A pause on the other line, and she thought she heard him gulp. "She does?" The slight crack in his voice was so cute that Ginger had to smile for a moment. "Yes, she agreed to let you come over on Sunday evening. She wants to..." Grill you, she thought in her head. "... Meet with you. She hasn't talked to you in ages--she never really has talked to you, now that I think of it. And Dad--well, he likes to, um... talk to the boys I date. You understand, don't you?" "Well of course, I do! I can understand them being protective over their only daughter... I-I promise, I will do my best to make a good impression on them." A rush of warmth flooded her cheeks. God, he could be so sweet. "Thank you, Jeff," she said, not knowing what else to say, besides apologizing in advance for what she knew was going to be a rough night. "I... I really appreciate you doing this." "I want to," he said. "I told you, Ginger, I like going out with you. And I want to keep going out with you. And I'm going to prove to your parents that I'm worthy of you. I'll make them love me. I promise." "I'll see you on Sunday, then," she said. "Sunday." She hung up the phone and looked up the stairs once more to double check that her parents' bedroom door was still closed. "Good luck, Jeff," she whispered. "You're going to need it." Ginger snapped on the backing to her teardrop earrings and inspected herself one more time in her full-length mirror. This was now the fourth outfit she had changed in, a cream-colored dress with speckles of pink and brown flowers and her yellow cardigan to top it. Wrinkling her nose at her reflection, she reluctantly decided that she looked decent enough to keep this outfit on. Surely her mother would approve of the way she looked tonight--she had even worn her hair down to please her--and maybe, just maybe, this night would go a lot more smoothly than she was fearing. Who was she kidding. The sound of the doorbell reached her upstairs through her closed door, and she rushed out of her room in the hopes of getting to Jeff before her mother did, but she didn't move quite fast enough. "Good evening, Mrs. Szabo," she heard Jeff say. She craned her neck to peek downstairs, hoping to see her mother's facial expression--anything to indicate her reaction--but all she could make out was Jeff's bashful grin as he extended his arm to hand her a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Her heart leapt against her ribs at the scene, even as an awful thought crept though her mind: how could she have been so careless as to not tell him? "Well, isn't this... sweet of you," Mrs. Szabo said, holding the flowers at a distance. "But you really shouldn't have..." "Oh it was no trouble at all, ma'am-" Ginger sprinted down the stairs and took the flowers from her mother, then waved Jeff in. "I-I forgot to tell you, Mother's allergic to flowers," she said breathlessly, apologizing in one fell swoop to both her mother and Jeff. She gave a weak smile to both and cleared her throat. "I'll go put these in water." "Harold? Jeffrey's here, dear..." Ginger strained to hear their voices through the sound of the running faucet as she filled the vase in the kitchen. She tried to evaluate her mother's tone of voice--was it time to panic yet? Not really, she surmised. No, there was plenty of time left for that. She rolled her eyes at the thought and hurried her task so she could join a defenseless Jeff in the living room. "Here we are," she said, laying the vase at the center of the dining table. She sat in the armchair beside Jeff and nervously smoothed her hair while she and Jeff exchanged the briefest of encouraging glances. "The meatloaf needs a few more minutes," Mrs. Szabo explained. Ginger watched her closely, hoping to get a better handle on her mother's thoughts throughout the night. As usual, her father sat wordlessly by her mother's side, his stern, humorless gaze speaking volumes through his silence. It was a wonder, she thought, that she could have ever dated--much less managed to get engaged--with such intimidating parents. "So, Jeffrey... You're twenty-one now." Jeff's mouth formed an uneasy smile, and Ginger saw him straighten slightly in his seat. "Y-yes, I am," he said. Well, how else could he respond to that, she thought. Her mother narrowed her eyes for a fleeting moment--Ginger was sure Jeff didn't notice, but she sure did--and brought one manicured hand to her elaborately coiffed hair before folding both hands on her lap. "Virginia just turned twenty-three a few months ago," she continued. The words were like arrows that shot through Ginger's chest. Jeff turned to her, a silent plea for help, and she smiled at her mother. "It's really only two years, Mother," she said, finding it hard to laugh at the irony that she was now attempting to justify the age difference to her mother when she had had such a difficult time accepting it herself in the beginning. "Charlie and I were two years apart too, remember?" Her mother sighed, as if wondering why she would even have to explain the reasoning to Ginger. "Yes, but he was the man," she said. "It's perfectly all right for the man to be older than the woman--why, he should be, if you ask me... Isn't that right, Harold?" She turned beside her to her husband and squeezed his arm. "Yes, dear," he said. Never once did the expression change on his face as he spoke. Do we have to talk about this right now, Ginger thought, resisting every impulse in her to roll her eyes. A timer went off in the kitchen, and to Ginger it was like the sound of church bells announcing the beginning of mass. She sprung up. "The meatloaf's ready!" They filed into the dining room as Mrs. Szabo disappeared temporarily into the kitchen to get the main course out of the oven. Beside her, Jeff whispered, "This isn't going too well so far, is it?" She squeezed his hand and smiled. "Hang in there. You're doing great." As good as humanly possible, anyway. Mrs. Szabo emerged from the kitchen moments later, meatloaf in tow, no doubt ready for the next round of questioning. She slid into her seat and smiled coolly at her guest--the kind of smile she reserved especially for these occasions in which she wanted to project an air of intimidation. It was working. "It smells delicious," Jeff said with a nervous laugh. Mrs. Szabo waved her hand in a casual, oh-it-was-nothing manner, and said, with what Ginger observed as her faux modesty, "It's an old family recipe that my mother passed on to me. I imagine Virginia will be passing it on to her daughter." Ginger swallowed hard and looked at Jeff from the corner of his eye to see if the comment had bothered him, as she hoped it wouldn't. But much to her surprise and delight, he seemed perfectly all right and must have just dismissed it. "Well, shall we say grace?" She turned to her husband. "Harold?" Mr. Szabo grunted some sort of affirmative response. Ginger knew how much he hated being the center of attention, but like her, he had probably long come to the conclusion that when it came to her mother, it was best not to swim against the current. "God bless this food we are about to eat. We are thankful for your many blessings. Amen." Mrs. Szabo turned to Jeff once again before he could reach for a dinner roll. "So, Jeffrey, how is your mother? I haven't spoken to her since Hank's wedding." She smoothed her napkin over her lap and added pointedly, "Apparently there have been some new things we haven't had a chance to catch up on." "She's doing just fine, ma'am," he said. "She really loves working at Brandstaetter's with Ginger." Ginger looked up from her mashed potatoes and smiled. Mrs. Szabo dabbed at her lips with her napkin and brought her eyes from Ginger to Jeff. "Tell me, how does she feel about... the two of you dating? Is she concerned at all about the age difference?" Here we go... "She mentioned it," Jeff said, his voice slightly cracking. Ginger wondered if her mother would take that as a sign of victory of some kind. "But I don't think she's all that worried about it anymore." "Oh, I see." She paused for what seemed like an eternity, stabbing at her meatloaf, then, as Ginger expected, resumed her interrogation. "Jeffrey, let me be frank..." As if she hadn't been frank already? "Virginia's father and I are... well, we're a little protective over her." I'll say, Ginger thought. "You must understand, she is our only daughter--our only child! And after the unfortunate incident with Charlie Hailey, you can understand why we might be... anxious about her suitors." "Oh it's completely understandable, Mrs. Szabo." Jeff nodded. "And I hope I've put your mind at ease tonight..." A tight smile appeared on Mrs. Szabo's face, and in her eyes, Ginger read, we'll see about that. "I'm glad you understand, Jeffrey, because I vowed to myself that no one would ever make my Virginia cry again like she did over Mr. Hailey. If that were to happen again, Mr. Szabo would be very upset, you understand." Ginger thought she almost heard Jeff gulp. "Mr. Szabo used to be a police officer, did you know that, Jeffrey?" Ginger felt the blood rushing to her head. She didn't just say that, did she? "Yes, I... remembered that," Jeff said. Mrs. Szabo smiled. "I thought you would," she said. Another pause, then, "So Jeffrey, what are your intentions..." Dinner finished sometime after 8:30, but unfortunately for Jeff, the inquisition lasted long after the dessert plates had been cleared. Ginger had watched him brave through it the entire night, jumping in at every opportunity she could to rescue him from the quicksand of her parents' questions. What were his goals. How much money did he plan to make. What would he do if he didn't make it as a ballplayer in the big leagues. As if those things mattered! Ginger smiled to herself. She, too had once thought they did. But now... now, somehow they didn't matter so much as she sat here beside him on the porch swing, counting the stars that dotted the sky, their fingers interlaced. "I suppose sorry wouldn't cut it right now," she said softly. He looked at her curiously, then broke out into a teasing grin. "What in the world are you sorry for?" She nodded towards the inside of the house. "For that. For Mother and Dad scrutinizing you. I wish you didn't have to go through that." "You're their only daughter," he said. "I would have done the same thing with mine." She felt herself blush unexpectedly at his mention of a future child, and she looked down, embarrassed to have him see her reaction. "So... do you think they'll let me keep seeing you?" The little boy anxiousness of his question made her laugh out loud. "You jumped through their hoops," she said. "They won't stop being so protective, but there's no way they can say one bad word about you, so they have to let me see you." He smiled--the same smile he had given her in the drugstore a few weeks ago when she finally agreed to go on a date with him--and gently pushed his feet down on the ground so they swung lightly. "Good." He looked at her again, a little more shyly than a few seconds ago, then let out another boyish laugh. "I was prepared to jump through more hoops, actually," he said. "You were?" She shifted in her seat so she would face him. "You'd... do that for me?" He nodded. "Ginger, I..." He paused, as if fumbling for the perfect words, though Ginger didn't need them. She had a feeling she knew exactly what he was trying to say. She leaned in close and kissed him under the stars. Home| Kyle| Tammy| History| Transcripts| Quotes| Milestones| Episodes| Pictures| Fanfic| Links| Email List