The Smell of Ozone

Chapter 4: Meet the Parents

Despite her living in Omaha, Nebraska, and I in Houston, Texas, we somehow grow stronger over the next year and a half as my time in the youth program draws to a close. We have no more racially tense moments as everyone seems to have settled into our being a couple.

Something wonderful happens on our second-to-last retreat, though. Something that will change our lives forever. No, not that. We still aren't ready, and while we aren't exactly chaste, we won't go that far at a church camp. That's just... wrong.

We're perusing the gift shop and spy some of those cheap, dime-store adjustable rings. Celeste looks at me with that certain twinkle in her eyes. The one I always see just before we do something off the charts. Yeah, that's my current euphemism for crazy. I change it every so often to keep things fresh. As I think about it, the fact that I need to do that might be an issue.

The craziness is never my idea. She's always the instigator. Yeah, and if anyone believes that I have some swa-, er, hunting land in central Louisiana, I'd like to sell. I'll even throw in a 'no crocodile guarantee' for good measure. It's not even a scam. There are no Crocs in Louisiana, but there are literally tons of alligators.

I buy two of the rings, and we slide them on the ring fingers of our left hands. The twinkle in Celeste's eyes brightens into a gleam as she slips the rings from our fingers, drops to one knee, and proposes to me in front of everyone in the store. Okay, everyone consists of the proprietor, his wife, and three other campers, but still.

After a moment's hesitation, I say yes, she squeals. I never knew she could hit that note. Then she places the rings on and plants a huge kiss on me right in front of everyone. The adults in the room chuckle at us while the other campers shake their heads at our antics. I believe they're no longer shocked at some of the shenanigans we pull.

After the kiss, I'm a little delirious, as usual. She still has that effect on me. We make our way around the camp, telling everyone we're engaged, and the looks on their faces remain more receptive than shocked. Again, likely because of our past antics.

When Celeste tells me that her parents are driving up the day before camp ends to meet me, I find myself wondering if we really are engaged. I'm wondering exactly when I swallowed the damn butterfly flitting around in my stomach.

When the day comes, she introduces me to her parents as her boyfriend, not fiancé, thankfully, and I greet them in a formal manner. Momma's etiquette lessons come in quite handy at a time like this. Yes, I'm still a nerd.

As we travel to a local restaurant in Little Rock, we pass the time with idle banter. Nothing too serious, though. I give them a brief history of my life and what I've accomplished in my hood. I have no idea what their impression of me is because I can't see their facial expressions from the backseat.

We're sitting in the quaint restaurant, and after suffering a few unguarded, faintly hostile looks from other patrons, it begins. Amid the amazing aroma of roast beef and fresh-baked sweet potato pie, Celeste's father initiates the interrogation with the typical shot over the bow.

He begins with my full first name and actually does a great job of pronouncing it. "So, Obinrinfemi, what are your intentions regarding our daughter."

Celeste's groan threatens to drag a snicker from me, but I maintain control and offer a calm, thoughtful response as she slips her hand into mine. It's time for me to earn that reputation of not using one word when fifty, or more, will do.

"Mr. Provart, I'm turning 18 in a few months, and we live almost 900 miles apart. While we define our relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend, we have to be realistic about life. Both of us are just figuring out who we are and who we want to be."