I got the dishes and was setting them around the table when my mother said, “So Mr. Berg asked me if you have a girlfriend.” Mr. Berg was an assistant manager at Warshaw’s and the last person on the planet I would expect to show an interest in my love life.

“Why did he ask that?”

“He said he saw you outside the store with a young woman.”

My heart froze. I began laying down the silverware. “Must have been someone who looked like me,” I said.

“He said she was pretty.”

“Then it definitely wasn’t me.”

My mother said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re a handsome young man, just like your dad. Trust me, someday you’ll have to beat the girls off.”

I just wanted this conversation to be over. “Sure, Mom. So, what’s for dinner?”

She smiled at my obvious deflection. “Meatloaf.”

Joel walked back in the back door.

“Don’t track any snow in,” my mother said.

“Sorry.”

I looked over at him and he winked, which I knew meant “mission accomplished” but looked more like he was having a facial seizure. Joel’s winks were as subtle as a diesel horn.

That night at dinner my mother recounted the earlier conversation about Mr. Berg with my father.

“I don’t know why Eric doesn’t have a girlfriend,” my dad said as if I wasn’t there. “I had my first crush when I was twelve.” Then, as if this reminded him of something he said to my mother. “Hon, let’s go to a movie tonight. I’ve got to get out of here.”

“After I do the dishes.”

“Let the boys do them. There’s an eight o’clock showing of If a Man Answers at the Avalon.”

“Isn’t that the one with Sandra Dee?” my mother asked.

“Sure is,” my dad replied.

She looked at her watch. “We’ll have to hurry.”

It wasn’t even seven but since my father now walked about as fast as a mummy in the Saturday horror matinee movies, they always gave themselves a lot of time. They left Joel and me sitting at the table—a surprisingly convenient turn of events.

“Should we do the dishes?” Joel asked.

“Just until they leave.”

I filled the sink with soapy water while Joel cleared the table.

Before they left, my mom came back to check on us. She had dressed up and she cocked her head to one side as she put on her earrings. “I’m so pleased, you boys jumped right on those dishes.”

“We have homework,” I said.

She looked at me as if she hadn’t quite heard me correctly, which I should have expected considering how little interest I’d ever shown in my homework.

“We’ll be back around ten. I expect you to be asleep before we get back.”

“Okay,” we said in unison.