This mother had three pointed questions ready for her daughter's boyfriend, and never got to ask one.
The first thing I ever saw of Ben was his sneakers, sticking out from under my Buick.
Ben fixes whatever he notices, and he does it before anyone has asked, which I will admit I took for showing off.
It was a Saturday in June. Rosa had told me only that she was bringing someone by to say hello. I came out the front door with my arms folded, ready to ask him what he did for a living and what exactly he wanted, and found a stranger flat on his back in my driveway with a borrowed wrench. He said, your timing belt's been squealing, Mrs. Alvarez. I heard it from the street. He worked for two hours. I sat on the porch step and decided not to like him. He finished, wiped his hands on his jeans, and instead of waiting to be thanked he asked where I kept the trash so he could take the old belt away. Later I found he had also topped off the washer fluid, which I hadn't mentioned to anyone in a year.
I had a speech ready for him. Three questions about his intentions. I never asked one of them. I said thank you, and he said, the belt was squealing at the market all morning, I figured someone should say something. I went inside and told my husband, I don't like how much I like him. Rosa came in behind me and asked how it went. I said he has a nice handshake, which is what a mother says when she has lost an argument with herself.
Ben, here is what you need to know about my daughter. Rosa will never tell you what is squealing in her. She'll say she's fine. She called me from her first apartment once to say the heater was fine, and I could hear it rattling through the phone. She'll do three favors for other people and make you dinner. So I'm going to ask you to do what you did in that driveway: keep looking under the car. Notice first, and ask second, and don't wait for a good time.
I'm not handing her over today. I'm telling you that I was wrong about the arms folded, and that I have never been happier to be wrong. I hope you spend fifty years lying under things in her life, and that she learns to say, thank you, it was squealing. And I hope that when she is sixty and you are under the car again, I am still around to bring you both a sandwich and pretend I'm not watching.
Welcome to the family. It has never once been quiet, but there is always someone with a wrench. So if you will all raise your glasses. To Rosa and Ben.
End of speech. The Vault holds 3 more mother of the bride speeches, named below.