I wasn't sure what I was going to tell them. I knew that they would both be home today as they had Mondays off, and in a way that was perfect. The stars had aligned, virgins had been sacrificed under the light of the moon; this was the perfect opportunity to visit them both without worrying about visiting them at work or monopolizing their lunch breaks.
But as I walked up to my parents' townhouse, I felt that dread come back in full force. I paused at the gate, so familiar and now full of premonition and hidden meaning. What on earth was I going to tell them?
I looked back at Sebastian. Unswervingly, he returned my stare, though the edges of his eyes softened with some unnamed force. He had offered to wait outside for me, and while I hated the idea of leaving him alone, I also knew that he had no chance at being alone for more than five minutes out here. I played out the scene in my head a dozen times in a dozen different ways, but unerringly, I knew my parents would meet him.
It would be unfair of me now to make him define what our relationship was, I would have to go with what I knew – appearances and subtext be damned. Besides, if I brought it up now, my mother would probably hear us discussing the matter through these paper-thin walls. Mothers had a penchant for embarrassing their children.
Twisting the handle on the gate, I swung it open slowly, easing past the squeaky part, until it was open just wide enough. I mounted the few steps up to the front door and fished around in my pants pocket, finding my key far too soon.
Sliding the key into the lock, I held my breath and turned it. The lock clicked, the mechanism loosened, and I removed my key. My actions felt agonizingly slow as I placed my hand on the door knob and turned it. I sensed her then.
The door flew open as I removed my hand just in time. I still managed to stumble as I crossed the threshold into my mother's arms.
"You're here!" she cried, and engulfed me in a warm hug. "Mother's intuition," she called back over her shoulder, likely for my father's benefit.
"Hey, sport," my father said, shuffling forward from the gloom of the hallway. "How's it going?"
"Good," I managed, the word strained by my mother's vice-like grip.
"Are you here to have lunch with us?" my mother's voice trilled in my ear. Finally she eased her grip, putting me at arm's length. "And how did you get here?"
"I got a ride from a friend."
"A friend?" My father leaned forward to peer past me though the still-open front door. "Ah," he said simply.
"What? A friend?" My mother let go of me and leaned against the door, looking out at the street. "Oh goodness," she said loudly, and I knew she was trying to make herself loud enough for Sebastian's benefit. "Why didn't you say so earlier? He must come in."
My father pushed past me, strangely eager, and rushed over to greet Sebastian. My mother followed shortly after, her cardigan flapping around her. I couldn't look, embarrassment washing over me like a tidal wave.
It didn't take long before Sebastian's footsteps came down the path behind me and he joined me in the foyer of my parents' house. I was half-convinced that my life was over, but he didn't look as nervous as I thought he would.
"You should have told us," my mother said, stepping inside, "that you were coming, and that you were going to bring a friend." She glanced furtively at Sebastian and then to me. "Just friends?"
My face went up in flames. "Yes, mother, just friends," I said fiercely, injecting as much ire into my voice as possible. I refused to look at Sebastian, though my heart raced and I felt my stomach drop.
"Oh, well," my mother said, bustling by me into the hallway, "any friends of my baby's are welcome here. Now how about some lunch?"
"Sure," I said quietly, following her down the hallway into the kitchen, wishing the floor would swallow me whole.
It was all much as I remembered it – floral wallpaper, lacquered oak, stuffy, outdated, good ol' house. The kitchen had been this way since my parents had bought it before I was born. I slid into a chair at the table, finding the familiarity jarring. Somehow this didn't quite feel as much like home as I had anticipated it would.
"So, Sebastian," my father began, as he shuffled into the kitchen behind us, "that's a nice bike you've got there."
"Thank you," Sebastian said shyly from his seat beside me.
"You know, I used to ride a motorcycle," my father said, winking.
I gaped at him. "You did not."
"Indeed I did. I'm not just blowing smoke trying to be nice here. I really did. You should ask your mother."
She chimed in on cue, looking away from the stove top briefly. "I made him get rid of that thing."
Sebastian excused himself to go to the washroom – "Second door on your left down the hall." – and suddenly the weight of attention shifted to me.
"Are you in love with that boy?" my mother hissed, shooting a knowing glance at me.
"N-no," I stammered. "Are you seriously asking me this?"
"It's a valid question," she said, shrugging and returned to cooking. "Because I reckon he's sweet on you."
"Mom, no one even says that anymore." I knew that my face was burning.
My father chuckled as he started to get out the dishware. "You do seem like similar types of people."
I stared at him.
"You know, brooding and introspective." My father smiled at me. "For what it's worth, I like him. He's polite and he rides a motorcycle. Vroom!" He mimed revving a motor.
Thankfully Sebastian returned at that moment and I was spared having to make my opinions on what my dad had said known.
"So Sebastian," my mother began, as she turned off the stove element, "what do you do? Are you a student? Do you work?"
"I'm a freelance programmer," he said, and his face flushed though his body language belied some perking up.
"That's excellent," my father said, grinning encouragingly. "You know—"
"He knows," I cut in, unable to control my grumpiness.
"Well, no wonder you're friends, then," my mother said, and pushed a cheese-smothered piece of cauliflower onto the plate my father had slid in front of Sebastian. "I still think you should've tried the freelancing thing before you gave it all up to become a farmer," she said, gesturing with her spatula at me.
I shifted in my seat. "I couldn't, mom. I was done." I hoped the hint of finality in my statement would end that discussion point. "And besides, I like being my own boss now. I have so much control, so much freedom."
She grimaced as she gave me my lunch. "Which means you're to blame for why you haven't come back to visit before today."
"Okay, no more fighting," my dad said, waving a dismissive hand and casting Sebastian an apologetic look. "These two always go at it. You're a good chap for coming out here."
"Yes," my mother added, "thank you for bringing this one" – she pointed at me and pursed her lips – "back home for a visit."
"You're welcome," Sebastian said as he picked up his fork, though he avoided looking at me.
I hoped that he could sense the gratitude I sent his way, but there was no change in his posture or expression.
"Wait, is this pumpkin soup?" he asked as my mother plunked a bowl of orange in front of him.
I wrinkled my nose. "I think so." I made a face.
"Yup," my mother confirmed as she took her seat. "Are you allergic to pumpkin? Or do you not like the taste? Pumpkin's a rather polarizing flavour, I find."
"Oh, no," Sebastian breathed, a hint of a smile pulling his lips. "I really love this dish."
"Wonderful!" my mother said, clapping her hands together, pleased as punch. "You hear that?" She nudged me. "Some people other than your stuffy, old parents actually like this dish."
I rolled my eyes.
The rest of lunch passed by quickly, the sounds of us eating sprinkled with small talk and quiet conversations between my parents. It struck me now that they had achieved a new normal without me, which I was thankful for, though at the same time, I felt a certain sadness. My relationship with my parents would never quite be the same as when I had been living with them, and I mourned silently for it.
You could move back in with them, a voice in my head reminded me, a slice of triumph affecting its tone.
Could I really? I wondered silently as I looked around at the dated, stuffy things all around me. Although this place had served as home for most of my life, it didn't have any marks of me except for in my room.
We exchanged good-byes once our meals were done, and my parents smiled brightly at Sebastian.
"Hope to see you again, Sebastian," my mother said, leaning against the front door's frame. And then, in a stage whisper to me, "He's a nice boy, I think you should keep him."
I glared at her. "I don't own him."
She waggled her eyebrows at me and I sighed, closing the gate behind us.
"So," I began as I took the helmet from Sebastian, "how was lunch?" Weariness warped my tone and the words sounded strangely false.
"Lunch was good," Sebastian said hesitantly. His gaze flicked away.
"It's okay if it wasn't," I rushed to say, waving a hand. "There's no pressure for you to say it was good. My parents are a little eccentric, and they can be a lot to deal with." I paused. "For what it's worth, I think you did really really well."
He shrugged as he pulled on his helmet. "I'm being honest. It was good. They're nice people. I like them more than my own parents."
That twinge of jealousy bit me and I pulled on my helmet quickly. I didn't say anything as I hopped on behind him, my mind drawing a blank as it tried to carve out a response. The rush of the city in my veins faded, and I was left feeling hollow.
Our ride back was uneventful, and I thought I detected a fresh and lengthening distance between us somewhere beneath the thrum of the engine. Nevertheless I maintained my grip on him, wondering when and if I would touch him again. My chances were diminishing with the passing seconds, I figured.
We slowed as we entered the valley, and a part of me couldn't help but be excited to be so close to the comfort of my house, my bed, and Dog greeting me as soon as we were on the property. The journey finished soon enough with the sound of Dog barking at us as we turned onto the farm.
There was a relief that blossomed within me as I stepped away from the bike and my eyes took in my farm and my land. I had made it back to the calm, the peace and quiet. The dying daylight slid its fingers across it all, reaching between the trees and across the valley. This felt like home, a little slice of me anchored here.
I turned to face Sebastian who stayed on his bike. "Thank you." My throat clamped shut and I couldn't muster the right words. I didn't know what to say to him, I didn't know where we were in terms of our friendship anymore. A part of me felt that we had regressed, and I was at a loss for what to do.
He paused expectantly, but when I didn't continue, he merely nodded and sped off, taking that earlier sense of joy and home with him.
The beast in my heart purred with contentment.