think I want to walk back to my car and drive back to my apartment and play World of Warcraft. I think I don’t want to spend the next two days being dragged around L.A. looking at clothes I couldn’t care less about and eating food when I’m not hungry. I think I don’t want to do this anymore.
Her mom and dad walk through the door and spot us. Her mom half jogs over to Casey with a big smile on her face, while her dad is left to drag both of their carry-on bags behind him.
Her mom says, “Oh, congratulations, you two. I just knew Casey would get married one day. I just knew it. My little girl. And you,” she says to me, “come here.”
She gives me a big hug and says, “It’s about time, huh? We were starting to wonder about you.”
For an older woman Casey’s mom has a noticeably nice ass. I wonder if Casey’s will slim down if I stay with her until she’s in her fifties.
Casey’s dad finally manages to make it over to the group. He says,
“So, my little girl’s getting hitched?” He gives her a hug, then turns to me and says, “And I’m going to have a new son.” He shakes my hand in a weird kind of overexcited way.
Casey’s mom says, “So we thought we could go eat a little lunch when we get out of here and then you guys can drop us off at our hotel for a few hours so we can rest for a bit, and then you can come back and pick us up and we can go shopping, or I figured that you guys would probably start looking for a place to live together . . . we could come with you. That would be so much fun. How does that sound?”
Casey says, “That’s exactly the way I had it planned, too.”
If I had a cyanide pill I would probably eat it.
Casey’s dad says, “Great. We just have a few bags.”
We wait at the baggage carousel for a few bags, which turns out to be five.
When we get in my car and I start it, I become immediately aware that Casey forgot to take my Snoop Dogg CD out and Casey’s parents are treated to the following pro-marriage rhetoric: You talk too much Ho get up out my face unless you tryin’ to fuck ’Cause on the real a nigga kinda drunk Casey turns the music off before Snoop can say anything else.
Everyone in the car heard it and no one’s saying anything. I put the car in reverse and pull out of my parking spot. No one’s saying anything. I start driving to the parking structure exit. No one’s saying anything. I pull up to the booth, grab my ticket off the dashboard, and roll down my window. Casey’s dad says, “I just can’t get over how nice the weather here is.”
We pull up to the booth and I give my ticket to a little Asian guy.
The meter flashes $3.00. The little Asian guy hammers it home by saying, “Three dollars, please.”
I realize I gave my last five dollars to the hobo on the way into the airport. Casey said her parents would never let me pay for anything, I just had to make the offer. I say, “I got it.” I reach in my pocket to make the offer seem real. I’m feeling around inside my empty pocket when I hear Casey’s parents say nothing.
I don’t know if they’re pissed at me for Snoop Dogg or if this is the one time they’re actually making me pay for something as some kind of test. In either case I have no way of paying the three dollars. The little Asian guy says again with exactly the same inflection, “Three dollars, please.”
Casey’s getting nervous next to me. She turns back and smiles to her parents. She says, “How was your flight?” She’s trying to stall them, but it’s not working. I can see her mom’s face in my rearview mirror.
She’s getting anxious. Her dad looks disappointed. Deep down I don’t really care about any of it. And I’m kind of happy when I say, “That’s funny, I don’t seem to have any money on me. I guess I just gave my last five dollars to that homeless guy.”
Casey’s mom reaches for her purse and says, “Why do you give them money? They only spend it on drugs and drink.” Then she