Well, I've reached a milestone: my 40th HIMYM fic in a little over a year. Quite a feat! (Or maybe it just means I need to get a life. Hmm.) Anyway, this is yet another story from the point of view of Tracy, which I always enjoy writing. Plus, after writing Meet the Parents a while back, I wanted to get more interactions in between Tracy and her parents. I hope you all like it! Feedback is always appreciated.
Lines of poetry included in this story are from Pablo Neruda's Every Day You Play / Juegas Todos Los Días. They do not belong to me.
The bus rolled to a stop down the street from Tracy's parents' home in New Jersey. She climbed off and began the familiar five-minute walk towards the house, the same route she used to take after a full day at school as a teenager. She recalled her and Max hopping off the bus and taking the quick stroll to her place, stealing a kiss on her front porch before they parted ways and he walked the remaining three blocks to his house.
She smiled at the memory. High school was such a long time ago, she thought, and what an innocent time in her life it was. Tracy's teenage years were so much simpler, that she sometimes longed for those days again; but despite the difficult years adulthood had brought her, life was pretty great right then, that similar sweetness and excitement of one's first love mimicked in her current relationship with Ted.
It was presently a mild Sunday in late September, and her parents had just returned the previous evening from a four-month stay in Italy, visiting Tracy's maternal grandmother who had taken ill. She'd missed them terribly—Tracy'd never gone that long without seeing her mother, and she pretty much chewed Ted's ear off telling him stories of her family all summer—and was happy to finally have a nice dinner with her parents and brothers again, much like they did most Sundays even after they'd all left for college.
Of course, Tracy also wanted to use this opportunity to tell her parents about Ted. It'd come as a shock to them, she knew, but she was rather excited to reveal her little secret. She loved Ted; and she knew her parents would love him, too. She just had to ease them into the news that she was now seeing someone new. After all, as far as they knew, she was still dating Lewis.
"Remember," Ted had nervously told her earlier that afternoon, sitting on her bed as she got ready. "I need your parents to like—nay, love—me! So be sure to use lots of positive adjectives and highlight only my best qualities."
Tracy looked at him through the reflection in her vanity mirror. "You really think bringing up your penis to my parents would be a good idea?" she teased, applying her lipstick.
He leaned back on the bed and smirked. "Hey, if you think it'll help my cause, I say run with it. Although don't get too boastful, because I still want to come off as humble..."
She laughed and turned around to face him. "In short, don't get too cock-y?" she asked with an arch of her eyebrow, saucily breaking the word down into two long and slow syllables. Tracy took a few steps towards the bed and leaned down to give him a quick peck. "It'll be ok. I'll tell them all about you, how amazing you are, and they'll be so excited to meet you."
"I'm excited to meet them," he admitted, his grin shy and nervous. "Ok, you need to get going! Can't have them thinking I was the one to make you late—I don't want a single thing working against me." Ted lifted his leg and playfully kicked her on the butt, shooing her away.
"Ok, ok," she said, grabbing her purse. "I'll be back tonight. You'll be here when I get home?"
"Nowhere else I'd rather be," he assured her, gazing up at her from the bed.
She flashed him one final smile, forcing herself to look away from his form that was settled so comfortably on her bed, and walked out the door.
Tracy was now on her parents' front porch, grabbing her key from her purse and letting herself into the house. She noted a couple of suitcases still sitting by the entryway. Clearly, unpacking would take a while, she thought to herself. She recalled growing up, the trips her parents would occasionally make to see family in Ireland and Italy, and how the unpacking upon their return would end up becoming a days-long process.
"Mom? Dad?" she called out, shutting the door behind her. "I'm home!"
"In here, sweetheart!" she heard her mother call from the kitchen. The sound of her mom's voice alone felt like a warm, comforting embrace.
Tracy made her way down the hallway and into the kitchen, spotting her mom at the kitchen table, a suitcase sitting wide open, foodstuff scattered all across the table. Yep, it was exactly like when she was young.
"Hey, mom," she said softly, walking over to her and giving her a long, hard hug. Four months was a long time. Too long, in fact.
"Oh, my baby!" her mother cooed, squeezing her back tightly. She pulled back and took Tracy's face in her hands. "I have not seen this face in so long! I've missed you so much!"
"I've missed you too, ma," she said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Where's dad?"
"He went to pick up Matthew. Your brother's car is on its last leg, it seems."
Tracy chuckled and shook her head; her brother's car drama was neverending, it seemed. "How's Nonna?" she asked.
"Still hanging in there," she said, taking out a rolled-up sweater from the suitcase and unfurling it, revealing a jar of olives. "We couldn't stay forever. If we get a call that she's taken a turn for the worse, I'll very likely head back, but she was in good spirits before we left."
Tracy smiled. "I'm glad." It had been a touch-and-go summer for her grandmother, Tracy's mom so sure that she was heading to Italy to plan a funeral. But it seemed Tracy's grandmother was stubborn, and her health was suddenly on the uptick.
"You should come along if I have to fly back, sweetheart!" her mother was now saying excitedly. "You haven't seen your grandmother since you were 8. She's been asking about you, you know."
Tracy gave her mom a sad smile. "I know," she said guiltily. It was great being able to chat with her grandmother over the phone during the summer with her rusty Italian, and being able to see her in person again would be amazing. "Maybe. But I don't think I want to fly to Italy for the first time ever just to see Nonna on her deathbed. Besides, you know I don't like funerals, mom."
She hadn't since Max's passing.
"It was just a suggestion, dear," she responded coolly. "All your cousins have been asking about you and your brothers. I simply think it's time you flew over there and got to know the family in person, and not only through Facebook and Skype."
Tracy wanted to visit; she'd had for years. But the opportunity never arose. And funnily enough, she and Ted had recently talked about travelling, perhaps even visiting Italy together sometime. They could explore her mom's tiny village together, she could introduce him to her family, and then they could cap off their visit by heading to Venice or Rome for some much-needed alone time. Tracy could picture it happening in the foreseeable future, and was very excited at the prospect.
"I'll visit," she assured her. "You know I want to, mom. Just... under happier circumstances. Anyway, what'd you bring me?" She changed the subject, peering at the jars and boxes before her.
Her mother chuckled, as she dug around the large suitcase some more. Hard cheeses, chocolates, jars of olive oil and condimenti wrapped and nestled amongst their clothes. Tracy loved it when her mom brought home goodies from Italy, especially when she only got a chance to indulge in them every few years.
"The usual. Your aunt Sylvia gave me a few wedges of her homemade pecorino." She took a large wedge of cheese, wrapped in foil, and placed it in front of Tracy. "Pick whatever you'd like. Just be sure to leave a few things for your brothers."
Tracy giggled gleefully, and took her time grabbing a little bit of everything, quickly resulting in a pile of goodies in front of her. "Thanks for the loot, mom!" she said. "Oh, by the way, can I have that extra jar of bagna cauda?"
"What for?" her mom asked, trying to keep her voice sounding neutral, but failing. "Do you want to give one to Lewis?" Tracy took note of the tone in which she said his name, too.
"Mo-oom," she said in a warning tone. "Stop saying his name like that. I know you never liked him..."
Her mother gave her a shocked look. "I never said I didn't like him. It's just that you've been dating him for well over a year now, so there clearly has to be something wrong with him if you're refusing to introduce us."
"Ma, it's not like that," she said soothingly. Tracy knew her parents had always been curious about Lewis. But Tracy inherently knew, deep down, that Lewis was never special. Not like Max. So definitely not worth introducing to her parents, even though he was a genuinely great guy; he just wasn't her guy. "Besides, it doesn't matter anymore. We broke up."
Her mother's eyes widened at the news. "When?"
Tracy hesitated before answering. "Back in May."
"May!" she cried, practically livid. "Four months? You failed to mention the fact that you and your boyfriend broke up when we spoke on the phone practically every week?!"
"Yeah, but—"
"No!" she said, her eyes welling up with tears now, pressing her hands down onto the kitchen table, holding herself steady. "We have been very patient with you, Tracy! Ever since Max passed away. Which is why we never said a thing about how private you were about Lewis. We figured, 'Well, at least she put herself out there again!' But now this. You broke up with him, kept it to yourself, and now you'll dig yourself back into that little cave of yours that took years to crawl out of! Are you seriously going to do that to your father and I again? To yourself?"
Tracy winced. She knew her mother wasn't angry at her; she just sounded defeated and helpless. She knew she had worried her parents considerably during her extended mourning period, and she felt horrible about that. But Tracy didn't have power over her feelings and her actions at the time, so hurting her parents was beyond her control. She had to work on her own emotions first and, when she starting making progress, Tracy tried her best to make her parents proud, to show them her strides, to not give them too much reason to worry about her anymore.
She knew she hadn't handled the whole Lewis thing well, though. But Tracy wasn't going to exclude her parents this time around. She didn't want to.
"Mommy," she said softly, reaching for her mother's hand on the table, evoking the word she only used when she was being playful or when she was sad. Or, unusually, such as now, when she was being very serious. "It won't be like that again."
"How can I believe that, honey?" she asked desperately. "Because my heart can't take seeing you like that again."
She gave her a hopeful smile. "Well, I really hope you believe me because... I'm actually seeing someone new."
If it weren't for the sheer emotion of the moment, Tracy probably would've laughed at the stunned look on her mother's face.
"What? Since when?"
"Since the day after Lewis and I broke up." She braced herself for her mother's reaction.
"Tracy," her mother began, in another stern-but-even tone. "Now you've waited four months to tell me you have a new boyfriend? Why all this secrecy? Are we ever even going to meet this one? Is it going to be like Lewis all over again?"
"Of course not, mom! Ted is different. Ted..." She smiled to herself. "He's the kind of guy you want to tell your mom all about in person and not over the phone. That's all."
She noticed her mom's face soften, the tears in her eyes transforming into those of joy. "Oh, honey," she said softly. "Are you being serious?"
Tracy nodded. "Very."
Her mom grabbed her face again, her hands cupping the sides of her cheeks, and pulled her close, planting a wet kiss on her daughter's forehead. "I'm so sorry I didn't trust you, honey. This... Well, this is just wonderful news."
Tracy beamed. "Well, Ted's pretty wonderful. You'll love him."
"So, we can actually meet this young man?" her mother asked, clearly needing to get that confirmation one more time.
Tracy laughed. "Yes! He's really looking forward to meeting you guys."
"Well, he's invited here any time he likes, then!" her mother said, excited now. "Perhaps he can join us for Thanksgiving dinner!" She then smacked her daughter's arm. "Why didn't you think to invite him over tonight?!"
"Ouch, ma!" Tracy cried, rubbing her smarting arm. "Because I wanted to ease him into our weird family; you don't just throw a guy into the lion's den without warning. But I'll let him know about Thanksgiving."
"Good!" her mother uttered, grinning from ear to ear. "So... tell me about him! What's he like? Where is he from? What does he do?"
Tracy didn't know where to begin. There were so many things about him that were worth sharing, so many words to describe him. Although given their earlier conversation, the only word that came to her mind right then was "penis". Dammit, Ted!
"Um, he's just... kind and smart and funny and amazing. He's originally from Ohio, but has lived in New York for the past 13 years. And he's an architecture professor at Columbia."
She noticed her mother's lips forming into a frown. "Tracy Elizabeth McConnell, if you're telling me you're seeing a 50-year-old man..."
Tracy made a face. "Ew, ma, no! A young professor; he's 35."
"Ok, good," she said, her worries assuaged. "So how did you two meet? On campus?"
"It's actually a long and funny story that I'll have to tell you about sometime," she said with a laugh, thinking about all their near-misses over the years. "Actually, Ted will probably tell it better. But, in short, the band was playing a wedding gig in Long Island and he was the best man."
"And was it love at first sight?"
Tracy blushed. "Mom..." she said warningly.
"Oh, shush!" her mother said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I am your mother; don't pretend you don't watch all those romantic films. So... was it?"
Tracy sighed, but couldn't hide the smile from her lips. "I didn't know it at the time, but yes. Yes, it was," she admitted.
Her mother clapped her hands together in glee. "Well, this calls for a celebration! We'll break out the good scotch tonight!"
Tracy shook her head, both amused and embarrassed by her mother's reaction. It wasn't as it she had won a big award or somehow ended world poverty or anything; all she did was fall in love. But she knew, to her mother, as important as career success was, it didn't come close to the prospect of love and marriage and kids and family. "Family is wealth," she always used to say, especially during the years when they struggled financially. And for Tracy, the idea of such richness never felt like it would ever become a reality.
But now, as she watched her mother dance around the kitchen, Tracy realized that this reality was slowly starting to form. She may not have noticed it—as both she and Ted were so busy enjoying one another's company and living in the moment—but a future was indeed coming together. By telling her parents about Ted and having him join them for Thanksgiving, which would ultimately lead to more holidays spent together, it meant that from that point on, he was going to be an ongoing and permanent fixture in her life. And there was no moving backwards. There was only going forward.
And Tracy had to admit, the thought of it excited her.
After an eventful dinner—Matthew had announced that he and his most recent girlfriend had broken up, and Jonathan and his wife Beth revealed their big secret (which Tracy and Matt had kept to themselves all summer), that the first McConnell grandchild was on its way—Tracy's father had insisted to drive her back into the city. She didn't complain: it was late, she was tired, and her hands were full of leftovers and heavy jars of Italian condiments and sauces.
He rolled to a stop in front of her building, looking up through the driver's side window.
"So, is your young man upstairs?" he asked her.
"Very likely," she admitted, cautiously.
"That's good," he offered gently.
Tracy gave her dad a shy smile. It was unusual for her, talking so openly again about her love life to her parents. Telling her mother came out easier than she had thought, after being so private for so long. And it was admittedly nice to see them so happy; specifically, so happy for her. Being single for so long after Max, Tracy had always felt as if she was being pitied by the world around her—and that any kind words geared towards her were somehow an extension of that pity. "Oh, good: she finally got off that couch." "How nice; she's going back to school." "She's finally dating again, poor thing." It took Tracy awhile for her to take people's happiness and pride as genuine, and to be able to accept it gracefully.
"Thanks, daddy," she said softly.
He gave her a grin. "Want me to come up there and give him a bit of a scare? Play the 'angry and overprotective dad' card, perhaps. That's a thing, right?"
Tracy laughed. "I promise: you can, as Matt and John put it so eloquently, bust his balls when you meet him at Thanksgiving."
"And I'm very much looking forward to it, love," he told her, leaning forward to kiss her cheek tenderly. She smiled; at 29, Tracy wasn't too old to still need affection from her parents.
"Love you, dad," she told him, pushing open the passenger side door. "Drive safe. I'll see you next week."
Tracy's dad stayed put as she walked towards the front of the building; even after living in Manhattan for over 10 years, he still thought the city dangerous. She safely made it to the door and gave him a small wave, before entering the building and closing the door behind her, her father's cue to drive off.
Upstairs, she walked through her apartment door and found Ted there, as promised. He was leaning back on the couch in his plaid pyjama bottom and a navy blue t-shirt, reading some Pablo Neruda, an indication of the type of mood he'd be in come bedtime. Tracy smiled at the sight; she couldn't get over how settled he looked in her apartment, and she loved coming back to her place with him there at the end of the day. It was a pretty good feeling.
Ted looked up at her when she walked in and smiled. "Hey, beautiful."
"Hey, you," she said, shutting the door. "How was your evening?"
"Bar, some TV, now book," he said, gesturing at the tome in his hands, then setting it down next to him. "How was dinner? How are your parents?"
"Dinner was good," she told him as she sat down next to him. "And my parents are well. Slightly jet-lagged, but very happy to be home."
"That's good!" he said over-eagerly, but clearly had other things on his mind. "So, their thoughts on me are..." He was anxiously waiting for her to say the words he wanted to hear, his eyes wide and hopeful and scared. Poor guy couldn't even hide his nervousness.
Tracy giggled and put a hand on his thigh. "They love you already and can't wait to meet you."
He breathed out a sigh of relief and leaned over to kiss her. "Thank God," he murmured. "Otherwise, I would've had to go over there and state my case, made some grand speech about how much I love you, maybe begged a little bit..."
"A little begging never hurt anyone," she teased, running a hand up and down his thigh. "So, did you eat? My mom gave me a whole bunch of leftovers." Her manicured nails tapped at the large Tupperware on her lap.
"I did, but I could eat again!" he said, eagerly grabbing the container from her hands and standing up.
"Seriously?" she said with a laugh, setting her bagful of edible souvenirs on the coffee table and getting up to follow him into the kitchen.
"Why, am I getting fat?" he asked jokingly as he set the container on the counter and reached for a plate from the cabinet above his head.
"A little bit, but I kinda like you pudgy," she teased, kissing his shoulder and poking his side with her index finger—Ted letting out his best Pillsbury doughboy giggle for her benefit—before moving to the fridge to grab a can of soda. "So, speaking of appetites, my parents invited you to come over for Thanksgiving dinner. You in?"
She tossed the question out casually, taking a quick sip of her Coke, eager for Ted's reaction. It was a big step in their relationship, and a big step for her; the last time she brought a guy home to meet her parents was 13 years ago. Tracy was older now—no longer a nervous 16-year-old alongside her anxious first boyfriend—so she had a calmness about her.
Ted had already scooped a forkful of lasagna into his mouth. His eyes widened at her question. "Do you even have to ask?" he said, quickly swallowing his food. "I'd love to come over for Thanksgiving!"
Tracy smiled, relieved. "Ok, good. You'll get to meet my parents and my brothers..."
He smiled back. "Wow. So, meeting the parents and the rest of your family, spending our first real holiday together..." He took a deep breath and exhaled, his gaze catching hers. "We're pretty much going all in, huh?"
"We are," she agreed softly. "You ok with that?"
Ted paused, and then quietly set his plate down onto the counter. He reached over and grabbed the soda can from Tracy's hand mid-sip, some of the brown liquid spilling onto the front of her dress, and set it down. She didn't even protest.
Because as he reached for her hips and pulled her close to him, his soft breath warm against her cheek, she realized that they were both on the same page. It was a given, she knew; after all, she waited all these years for love to ring a second time, not to simply find someone to date casually. And she knew Ted—with his dreams and hopes for the future—only had his eyes set on finding "the one" and nothing less. And everything that came with along with it: big family dinners, holidays together, embarrassing childhood stories...
She was in. She was all in. And so was Ted.
He swayed her in his arms, brushing his lips against hers. "You don't even know how ok I am with it," he murmured, moving his mouth away to kiss her nose, and then her forehead.
Tracy smiled as his mouth ventured into her hair, breathing in her curls, while his sneaky hands found their way underneath her dress.
She shut her eyes, excitement coursing through her as his fingers caressed her bare thighs. Smart move not wearing any nylons today, McConnell, she praised herself inwardly.
Ted gently nudged a few strands of hair away with his cheek, unearthing one of her ears. His teeth tugged at the lobe, and Tracy felt her pulse quicken as his lips parted against the soft flesh of her ear. He had a way with words, and she always shivered in anticipation the way he spoke to her in the dark. It was as much foreplay as the way he kissed and touched her, the words and sentences he used, the way he verbalized how much he loved her and what he wanted to do to her—
"So, wanna go into the bedroom and mash our parts together?" he whispered, breaking her from her train of thought.
Tracy's eyes popped open, and she pulled away to stare at him. He looked less like her mature 35-year-old boyfriend, and more like a desperate, oversexed teenager, his eyes wide and hopeful, an impish grin playing on his lips.
But whether he was being suave and sexy or silly and stupid, she loved him anyway. Because he was hers, and she wouldn't have him any other way.
"Oh, babe, no," she mocked with a disapproving shake of her head. He was much better than that.
"What can I say?" he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Pablo has gotten me in the mood."
"Well, Pablo was way more eloquent than "mash our parts together". Unless something just got lost in translation there, you've got to do better than that. You know, if you want to..." She gestured at his hands that were still underneath her dress; he removed them guiltily.
"Ok. You want eloquent, huh?" Ted asked with a grin, placing his fingers at her waist. He cleared his throat. "Yo te amo, y mi alegría muerde tu boca de ciruela."
Crap. He was breaking out the Spanish; the bastard knew that was her weakness.
"Ok, that's a bit better," she admitted, her voice quivering.
Ted smiled proudly, if not a bit smugly, as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers, chastely. He always began this way, at a slow simmer, until it all led to a high, rapid boil, with Tracy bubbling over with desire.
He wrapped his arms fully around her waist now, pulling her body closer to his. Her hands instinctively went straight for his hair, fingers brushing back his strands, and then quickly gripping them tightly as their kiss deepened, Ted pushing her back roughly against the kitchen counter.
The moment was intense, perhaps a bit too intense, as Ted eventually pulled himself away from Tracy, panting heavily. Tracy had to control her own breathing, as well, her hands moving down to Ted's t-shirt, gripping at the fabric.
She looked back up at him now, at the serious look on his face. It was one of determination; one of a man who knew what he wanted. And Tracy knew, it wasn't only about tonight. Like her, however not knowing exactly what the future held, it was about knowing with great certainty that it was with eachother that they wanted to spend their days beyond tonight with.
With that tender look in his eyes, he wasn't going anywhere. And there was no way in hell Tracy would ever walk away from him.
"Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos," he continued now, gently nudging her in the direction of her room.
Tracy smiled. "You gonna kiss my mother with that mouth when you meet her?" she teased as she walked backwards towards the bedroom, Ted's hands guiding her.
"Depends: is she hot?" he joked with a twinkle in his eyes, as they made it to the door. "I mean, if she's your mom, I can only assume she is."
She just shook her head, at yet another quip masquerading as a sweet compliment, which was reason #739 why she loved Ted so much and wanted to spend forever with him.
"Just get in here," she said in mock exasperation, pulling him into the bedroom with her.
END