The Second Supper

The Topic: Share A Memorable Dinner

This is the story of not the first time, but the SECOND time The Agent had dinner with my family.

The first time was no big deal. The family was well behaved, and it was really unmemorable.

It was the second time that my family let the crazy out.

My father had grilled steaks, my stepmother had made mashed potatoes and a broccoli casserole. Also present were my stepbrother, my stepmother’s parents, and my stepmother’s grandparents.

(My stepmother is considerably younger than my father. In fact, we are close to the same age-- only 9 years apart. But that’s a different story)

My father held out his plate to The Agent. “Hey, Agent, would you mind putting some potatoes on my plate?”

The Agent was happy to oblige, and started to reach for the plate.

My dad freaked out. He yelled, “DON’T TOUCH MY PLATE! DON’T TOUCH MY PLATE!”

My dad is kinda a germaphobe.

The Agent was startled and let go. At the same time, my dad was tugging the plate away, so food went flying everywhere.

I gave Dad a warning look. I like this guy, Dad. Do not embarrass me.

As The Agent was trying to tidy up the mess around him, my stepmother’s grandmother, who was sitting next to The Agent, starting tugging on his sleeve. “Um, excuse me, Sir? Are you going to eat your fat?”

The Agent looked down at steak, confused. “Umm, well, I guess probably not.”

“Can I have it then?” the 82-year-old woman asked.

I shot my stepmother a look. Control your family.

“Grandma, no,” my stepmother chastised.

The poor Agent wanted to please my family, so he was quick to say, “oh, no, it’s no problem.” The Agent quickly cut off the end of his steak and passed the cuttings over to Grandma. “Do you have a dog at home?”

“No,” she answered. “Why would I give him this?” then she popped the whole blob of fat into her mouth. Gross.

“You’re very nice,” she flirted with her mouth full of fat, gazing into The Agent’s brown eyes. “I like you much more than the last boy Lovely brought over. She brought someone over last month who I didn’t much care for.”

I started banging on the head on my plate as my stepmother explained that The Agent was, in fact, the same boy I had brought over the month before.

I apologized multiple times to The Agent on the way back to my house that night. I was so embarrassed, but the Agent just laughed and said, "Don't worry, you'll make it up to me."

And I did make it up to him. Multiple times.