| OCR Text |
Show 201 was like finding an oasis in the Sahara. There simply wasn't such a place, so we repaired to the little bedroom off the kitchen, scene of all our childhood illnesses because it was where Mama could watch and mix bread at the same time. We closed both doors, the one to the parlor, even locked the one to the kitchen because Macel and Revo had their crowd there and were having a screaming candy-pull. The lock had a weak latch, however, and would yield to pushing. "I-we-" I began. "I think he has something to say to you. " "Well, it's like this, " said my fiance. "We've been going together for quite awhile now, and- About a year, we've been going together, and we - " There was a pause while my parents waited. "We love each other, " I explained, unnecessarily. "Well, we-thought-we'd-like-to-get-married, " he said, running all his words together. Papa cleared his throat and the door burst open. Phil Shipp plunged in backward and fell on the floor at our feet. He looked up at us, startled, and scrambled out, pulling the door shut after himself, his face bright red. At the time this didn't seem funny, and we watched his ungraceful performance solemnly, as if at the bier of a friend. If Papa had any intention of asking fatherly questions, like the means of support, he forgot it. We got the conversation over with as soon as possible to forestall any other intrusion. Intrusion was routine in our family. |
