We strolled through the mall with our coats and our Cokes that we bought from the ice cream stand
And I was aware how nobody stared as we passed by hand in hand
5 months. It'd been five months since he knocked his way into my life, and very few people were the wiser. I still let Anne drag me to the clubs once a week, which he didn't seem to mind because I always ended up in his bed at the end of the night. Anne knew there was someone, but I'd insisted I didn't want to jinx it, so I kept my lips sealed. Christmas had somehow magically rolled around, and with some persuasion on his part, he dragged me to the mall to help each other buy gifts. The basics really, perfume and purses for the moms, watches and golf clubs for the dads. Each gift went smoothly as we made our way through the various stores in the mall. It was noon before I took notice of the roar escaping my stomach. I blushed as he tightened his grasp on my hand before leading me to the food court. He looked good that day, I remember. No usual stains on his hands or clothes, and his hair was styled to the point where it didn't even look real. I wasn't sure if the stares were directed at me or him, but I'm almost positive it had nothing to do with the exponential gap between the balances in our banking accounts. How could it, I realized, as I glanced down at my attire. A pair of baggy sweat pants and a band t-shirt that was his. I'd never even heard of the band, but I loved the smell of it on me. I loved the smell of him.
"So." He began hesitantly as we sat down at the 2 seated table in the far corner of the food court that hardly anyone was at except for some, I assume, high school kids that were most likely on a date, second if I had to guess. Probably had to be dropped off by their parents. Refocusing my attention on his determined set of eyes, I gave him a faint smile, nervous as to what he was going to say. He was rarely unsure of his words. Me, on the other hand, well, I was usually nothing more than a jumble of words compressed into one or two breaths. Three, if I was lucky.
"Yes?" I cross my ankles, bringing them as far back as they'd go towards the bottom of the seat.
"I think that it's safe to say that this just isn't a fling, right?" He glanced insecurely around us at all the restaurants that we could have eaten at before meeting my gaze. I watched as he swallowed the lump in his throat. That should have been my sign that this wasn't going into familiar territory, but it somehow didn't register. At least not to the extent that he was leading to. But, of course, he was always big on surprises.
"Really? You think so?" I mock him slightly, letting my smirk be known before my hands slid across the table to grab his, which I quickly found were clammy and sweaty. Another sure sign that this was bad, and another one I chose to dismiss.
"I'm being serious, babe." He nearly groaned, squinting his eyes in frustration. It wasn't until that moment that I realized he never used my name, even after I told him what it was, on our third... whatever it is you want to call what we had.
"So what are you getting to, Derek?" I glare slightly, agitated that I didn't see the direction that he so obviously had planned out.
"I think it's time we.. You know.. Make us an us. Official." He smiled, tightening his grasp on my hands as his all too confident smile brightened his face. "I want to tell the world that I have you." It wasn't until that moment that I realized what he was saying. He wanted to stop being my secret, and become my real boyfriend. Wasn't it enough that I was being faithful to him? Was he not being faithful the entire time? Why did it matter who knew?
"Like who?" I asked, my throat's dryness making it nearly impossible to talk without sounding like I was drawing my last breath as an 107 yr old woman with a bad case of emphysema. Which I found completely annoying considering I didn't even smoke! My voice wasn't suppose to sound like that! It was betraying me! At the worst possible time!
"I want to know your family. I want you to know mine. I want my mom to know that I'm not alone in this 'big, awful city'." He grinned, quoting his mothers words, something he'd done many times after talking to her on the phone. I would have been lying to say that I hadn't thought of meeting the nearly epic woman that he almost praised. Raising five kids could not have been a small feat. And then there was his sisters. Maybe they could have been like my sisters too. Of course, I knew that they would all hate me at first. Simply because I lo.. Because I cared about their brother. Love was a word that I didn't know the meaning of then. I'm only just realizing it's depths now. Either way, all of those thoughts had, against my better judgment, entertained my thoughts on several occasions. And I wasn't even afraid of his family. I could handle a little criticism. It wouldn't be anything I hadn't told myself. No, his family wasn't the problem at all. It was mine. They could, and would, tear him apart. How could I tell them that though? I couldn't.
"Woah there, tiger!" I manage to say in a relatively normal tone, compared to the last time I attempted to speak. Maybe because on some level, I'd expected this to happen. He was a traditional guy. But honestly, can you imagine our parents asking how we met? 'Funny story actually. He wanted to use my phone, and I wanted to screw him. We both got what we wanted." I mean, that's not something you can tell the grandkids! Not that I ever thought about having grandkids with him! Not that he wouldn't be great with them, but. Gr. "Don't you think we should give them some sort of warning?" I mutter, unimpressed, as I grasp for straws, any straws at all.
"I thought you liked surprises." He grinned, lifting his eyebrows repeatedly in a suggestive manner.
"Ass." I mutter, still not being able to wipe the smile off my face completely. He was just too cute for his own good sometimes.
"Come on. Please." He pouted his lower lip until my last wall of defense crumbled to mere ashes.
"Fine." I grin. "I'll tell them over Christmas. It'll be a nice gift for their... stocking." I giggled as I felt his leg slide up against mine.
"Good." He smiled, licking his bottom slip slowly until I leaned across the table and kissed him. What can I say. I was so incredibly weak.
But talking to my folks seemed like a bad joke I didn't know how to begin
So I just sighed and told a few lies and tried to lift up my chin
Sunday Family Dinners. If there was ever anything that was required of me that I hated, it was definitely Sunday Night Dinners. The perfectly square table was made of wood with a dark coat of paint that had been there for as long as I could remember. Not that anyone really knew that because it had a different covering every week, if not day. My mom hated to look at the same thing twice. If I believed for one moment that my mom would ever touch drugs, I would blame them, but my mom is much too sheltered for that, so I'm left with no excuse. It's just the way she is. I've accepted it. This time she had a white covering that had large sunflowers on it. Of course, it seemed completely out of place considering it was below twenty degrees outside, and they were expecting snow in the next day, but who was I to say anything. She would have fainted if she knew I had never put a tablecloth on my dining room talbe- ever. I like to think of it as my dirty little secret from my mom. I figure I could do much worse.
In addition to the table cloth, she had arranged matching place mats, as well as dishes that all incorporated some sort of sunflower theme on them. I glanced towards my dad, but quickly received a stern glare that promised consequences if I as so much cracked a joke about the fact the wine glasses even looked like tall blooming sunflowers.
"Looks great, mom." I manage, as best as I could as I thought about how many of these glasses would be broken after I told them. I had to tell them. Sunday night dinners were one of the few times I saw my parents together. I'd never understood their relationship. They seemed to coexist in perfect harmony, yet something just wasn't quite right. They never really touched or laughed or kissed. They just were. I wondered vaguely if they even spoke when away from the dinner table. I'd also wondered if that's why my mom went all out on them. After all, she was getting attention. And if anything, my mother craved attention.
"Thank you." She smiled with pride as her eyes glanced over the table setting, her eyes flickering slightly for just a moment before returning to normal. I blamed the fact that she probably had a fork in the wrong position. Or maybe it was a knife. I don't know, I still have no idea which one I'm actually suppose to use and when, I can always count on a stern disapproving glare from my mother if I'm wrong, quickly followed by a clearing of the throat by my dad if the glare becomes tense enough for him to actually feel it. Maybe they'd just ran out of things to say to each other, but I had to give him credit, he knew exactly what she was thinking in those times, whether it'd be slightly adjusting a bowl or glass, or a napkin placed on the table instead of our laps. That was a big one. My mom was a firm believer in a napkin never touching the table once the meal had been started. Not until the very last fork was sat down for food. My house didn't have a lot of rules growing up, but that one went unspoken. I don't remember every really being taught it either, it just was. Kind of how I knew my relationship with Derek wouldn't be taken well. There are some things we just know instinctively, even when we wish we didn't. But all the shooting stars in the sky wouldn't be able to make my parents take this news with grace.
"Didn't you have something you wanted to tell us?" My mother asked, obviously on slight edge. Bless her heart, she tries so hard to hide it.
My eyes darted between my two parents and the wine glass in front of me that had a yellow tint on it. Wanted? Yes. Want? That's a big NO. N-O. Really. Honest! Biting my lower lip almost painfully, I lifted my head as best as possible, and looked my mom straight in the eye. "I've been thinking about transferring to UCLA." Okay. So it was a lie. A huge lie. A lie that my parents, I thought, would never accept. Boy, was I wrong.
"HONEY! That's... that's great news!" My mom beamed, and I nearly chocked on the water I was drinking. Great news? It was NOT great news. It was, in fact, the opposite of great news. I never wanted to. I didn't. I thought they would shake their head and dismiss it.
"You know, I have some friends over there. I could make some calls for you." My dad did his best smile after he took in my mom's all too happy response. I could tell he wasn't at all thrilled with it, but he was never one to stand against my mom.
"Wha.. Bu.. Seriously?!" I gapped. I couldn't even trust to know my own parent's reaction anymore. I didn't want to move across the country to California! Were they high?
"I don't understand." My mother gave me a questioning glance, and it was all I could do to keep my head level. It seemed as it'd already been decided with the air of finality surrounding me, and I didn't like it. Not one bit.
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