— Dad, this is André. He’s my boyfriend.
My father slowly lowered his hand.
— Your what?
— My boyfriend.
— And why does he look like a man who is already paying off a mortgage?
André smiled politely.
— Because I am indeed repaying a mortgage.
Dad thought for a moment.
— Well, at least he already has one good quality.
Mom invited us to sit down at the table.
She watched André with suspicion.
— And how old are you?
— Thirty-two years old.
Dad choked on his tea.
– HOW MUCH ?!
— Thirty-two years old.
— Véronique, you’ve decided to bring one of my old classmates home?!
— Dad, you’re forty-eight years old!
— Exactly! A little longer and he’ll be discussing his blood pressure with me!
Grandma, who had come to visit us, quietly remarked:
— At least he’s a grown man. Maybe someone will finally teach Véronique how to close the toothpaste tube.
I took a deep breath.
— We have some news to announce.
Mother immediately became on her guard.
— Have you decided to get married?
— Perhaps. But first…
— You bought an apartment? — asked Dad, suddenly enthusiastic.
– No.
— A car?
– No !
— So what?!
I looked at André.
He took my hand.
— Véronique is pregnant.
A total silence fell.
Dad slowly put down his cup.
Mom pressed her hands against her cheeks.
Grandma stopped knitting.
My father was the first to speak.
— Véronique…
— Yes, Dad?
— Haven’t I always told you that you’re still a child?
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