My mother's sauce was incredible. Fresh tomatoes, mushrooms, garlic, olives, and yellow bell peppers over fresh vermicelli. It reminded me of my childhood when I would be playing stick ball in the street and I could hear my mother screaming from our upstairs apartment, "Luigi, time for dinner." I'd race home and laid across the white doilies on the dinner table would be a huge bowl of pasta, salad, and fresh bread for the family to devour.

I sipped my glass of Cabernet, watching Drew maneuver around the kitchen with my mom like some kind of cooking tag team with flying hands in effortless style, creating a culinary delight. But beyond their whizzing arms there was a gentle smile across both of them- almost like mother and son- joyous to be able to share this meal together.

I removed my work shoes, sitting at the table, leaning back and enjoying the performance.

"What'd you two do today?" I asked.

Both were silent until my mother responded, "Went to church."

Drew smiled, stirring the sauce. "Pass me the parmesan, please."

Almost with the ease of a third arm, my mother gave him the small container from the fridge.

"Okay," I stated, taking another sip of the wine warming in my hand. "What happened?"

"Dinner." Announced my mother, moving the bowl of pasta to the table. Drew followed with the sauce, bread, and arugala salad. We started loading out plates, a lull of conversation filling the room.

"Is anybody going to answer me?"

Drew took a heavy inhale as my mom responded, "I had Andrew take me to St. Vincent's."

With a mouthful of pasta, I couldn't respond. There was no gag reflex but I chewed faster, wanting to know the details. With the last swallow, I finally announced, "What!" spitting a piece of pasta across the table.

Andrew twirled his pasta in silence as my mother motioned for me to wipe my mouth. "Mom," I said, dabbing the corners of my mouth, "What'd you do?!"

"Don't chew with your mouth full." She requested.

"Eric," said Drew, interrupting. "We talked to Father Richardson about our ceremony."

"Mom-"

"You should have a Catholic service."

"We couldn't change thousands of years of church policy, what makes you think you could?"

Mama only smiled, grating fresh parmesan across her pasta. "I requested a formal papal protest."

"YOU WHAT?!"

"Luigi, don't overreact. The Catholic church is a business like any other. You don't like something, you ask to change it."

"You let her do this Drew?" He remained quiet. "Has everyone lost their minds?"

"Son, I'm surprised at you," said my mother. "The church has always been an important part of our family, why should now be any different?"

"Because mother, this isn't about the church. It's about you. Everything is always about you. This is OUR service, not yours. I went to the church because I knew you'd ask- but personally, I could care less if it's at St. Vincent's or Griffith Park."

"Well," she said, "I understand." She rose from the table, putting her dish in the sink. Drew looked at me.

"Mama, I appreciate it. I do. But you've got to know that I love Andrew and I want this to be about us. Not the church, not the fancy linen- but something beautiful and simple."

"You don't think that's what I want for you?"

"You want what you want. You came here to help- to make the service YOU want."

"That's not true."

"Admit it. I love you, but you've always been that way. And Andrew, you want to make my mom happy because she's my mom. But I know you don't want a big church wedding either."

My mom looked at Drew who remained silent- giving his answer.

"Okay!" yelled my mother. "I'm here to HELP you two. If you want to get married in Griffith Park, fine, let me help you. THAT'S why I'm here."

And in her eyes I could see the simple truth of her courage it took to announce that- to come to terms with her constant need to control. Without missing a beat, and determined to lighten the air, she quipped, "So, how's the sauce?"

I said, "As always, incredible."

"I'm only doing this because I love you." She mumbled.

"I know, mama. And I love you too." My mother's vacation was just beginning but already I needed another glass of wine.