life, the sitcom

I went to my parents' house for dinner last night. I'm not normally eager to drive an hour for any reason - especially when it involves dealing with immediate family. But last night, my little brother brought his first serious girlfriend to dinner.

My parents don't know they're dating. I learned from Facebook.

He was back for the tune-up - doctor and dentist appointments - and she was visiting a friend at CCSU. She was staying at our house overnight so my mom could drive them both back to Brandeis today.

It was clear that, by the time I arrived, my mom already put the girlfriend through her interrogation gauntlet. Mom knew where the girl was from and how her parents made livings. She seemed to have no idea that the two college freshmen picking at their Kosher-for-Passover dinners were a couple.

When my dad and I went out for gas and coffee after dinner (and I failed, spectacularly, at parallel parking in West Hartford as he sat cringing in the passenger seat; flashback to adolescence, anyone?) he asked if I I really came to dinner because my brother asked me to.

Yes, I said, because he wanted to give me a late birthday gift (a Brandeis t-shirt). Dad suspects something.

The girlfriend told me after Dad went to bed that the secrecy was certainly not her decision, which I guessed. But when my parents weren't there, my brother looked calm - and happy - which is a change from how things were before. She doesn't even nag him TOO often about his Count Olaf goatee.