Primo drives 90 miles to pick Sly and Doris from the airport. There are plenty of flights from Jacksonville to Austin, but no nonstops. He looked and looked until he found a nonstop from JAX to San Antonio.
“I don’t want them to have to change flights,” he said. “My mom has such a hard time walking and they have not flown for years and years. I want to make it easy for them.”
“Making it easy for Sly and Doris” is another way of saying “Making it hard for Primo.”
As in, picking someone up at the Austin airport requires 20 or 30 minutes each way. Going to San Antonio and back? I pack him a lunch.
(That’s a joke. First, Primo can go probably days without eating – he is like a python – and second, THE FOOD IN SAN ANTONIO IS FABULOUS. Even the fast food, like Taco Cabana, is good in San Antonio. Hmmm. Why don’t we live in San Antonio? Oh wait. There is Taco Cabana in Austin. Never mind!)
Sly and Doris are cranky when they arrive at our house.
· The trip it was boring.
· The flight attendants were rude.
· The food was bad.
· There was not enough food.
· The pilot did not speak proper English.
· The flight was too long.
· The drive from the airport to our house was too long.
· The drive from the airport to our house was too uncomfortable.
Poor, poor Sly and Doris. How they suffer.
They did not offer to pay for the gas. The plane tickets were clearly on the house. Primo would not have taken their gas money, but it would have been nice if they had offered.
“Do they think you are made of money?” I ask Primo.
Actually, I don’t know if they think he is made of money. But even if he were, why should he pay for everything for them? They are very from each according to his ability to each according to his needs with other peoples’ money. Not so much with their own. With their own money, they are quite careful.
They say nothing to me about the pregnancy because they are not supposed to know. I am not supposed to know that they told Primo they were not coming to the wedding.
All these secrets. All the hidden anger and hidden issues. I cannot stand it. It’s not like this with my family. Or, if it is, it’s all about secrets that other people are keeping from me that I truly do not know about. But I don’t keep secrets – except the normal ones, like how many men I have slept with – from my mother.
They also know nothing about the maybe miscarriage because it is none of their business.
I wouldn’t put it past Sly and Doris to think that of me. Only if they hadn’t thought it through, though. Why would I lie just to have them in my house? Would they be so obtuse not to realize I didn’t adore them and wouldn’t be devastated if they weren’t at my wedding?
I am making my own head hurt thinking about this. Enough.
I made a batch of gumbo for supper, but they aren’t hungry.
While Primo was picking them up, I prepared our bedroom, which is on the first floor, for them.
Did I mention they are sleeping in our room? Did I?
They will be in our house for nine days and they will sleep in our bed and eat our porridge and WHY DIDN’T WE ELOPE?
I changed the sheets, cleaned the downstairs bathroom, put out clean towels, and put flowers from my garden in both the bedroom (next to the chocolate bowl) and the bathroom. I hate doing all this work, but I have to admit it is a distraction from the main topic at hand.
When my mom arrives on Thursday, she will stay in the guest room and Primo and I will move into the basement. Dr J., my brother, and my sister will stay at a hotel.
If you get married, do not let people stay with you.
Let me say this again.
 I would have.
 They need it for booze.