Mama beckons me toward her with a wiggle of a finger. I kiss the relatives and pat the cousins until they part and allow me across the room. Mama’s face is still unreadable.

“Angelo. Who is that girl?” she does not speak unkindly, just with her I’m-serious-give-me-information voice.

“Who do you think, Mom? She’s the woman of my dreams, she’s everything I could ever—”

“Does she have a name?” Mama needs another cup of coffee before she can tolerate anyone going poetic on her.

“It’s Rosie, Ma. That girl I always tell you about—”

“Yes, well it would have been nice if you’d introduced her before you snuck her into my house.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.” Choose your battles wisely. My mother has taught me that. “You’ll love her though, she’s so—”

CRASH

I jump about a foot in the air and somehow manage to spin around in doing so. Somehow I’m not surprised to find that Rosie tripped on the last step and is sprawled on the ground. I rush to help her up.

“Mom, Dad, everybody, meet Rosie.”