The next morning proved uncomfortable. The sun, barely above the horizon, stretched across the kitchen's wood floors. Each of us sat at the breakfast table, catching glances of one another only to instinctively look away. Grandma smiled, relentlessly. I even caught her glaring at my father, as if urging him to speak to me. He didn't.
This had become routine with us, this tension. He spoke to me when necessary or when he felt my mother needed back-up. Otherwise, it was short looks and nods. Over a year now, he avoided me like a plague victim, convinced I'd poisoned the well. I had no doubt he loved me, but he surely didn't like me very much.
The sharp ringing of the phone drew everyone's attention. Thankfully, I was quicker than anyone. Mumbling, I'll get it, I ran like a shot, opting to answer the living room phone instead of the kitchen. When I greeted the receiver, Seth's voice met my ear, not my Uncle's as expected.
"Hey," the joy apparent in his voice, "how's it going?"
I let loose an exaggerated breath, "Great. Just waiting for the war."
"What?" his smile audible even over the phone.
I laughed, "Nothing. What'd you want?"
"Huh? Oh. Uh, I was gonna see if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight?"
I paused, surprised that I actually wanted to go. However, I figured the coming of Hurricane Michael Emerson would rage for the better part of the day; not exactly the best mood-setter for a dinner party.
"Uh, I don't think so, but I appreciate the invite." I answered disappointedly
"Oh, okay. I get it. Maybe I'll see you around," his tone was sharper than before
"Seth…" I began, but I was already speaking to the dial tone. I returned the receiver to its cradle, dejected.
Heavily, I dragged my feet back toward the kitchen. Grandma stood at the sink, washing all dishes but mine, while Mom rinsed and dried. Dad sat in his same place, reading the paper, completely oblivious of my return. I slumped back into the chair and stabbed some scrambled eggs with my fork. I ate slowly, no longer hungry, but knew I'd regret it later if I didn't eat. The silence within the kitchen thickened with each passing minute, broken only by the occasional clatter of the dishes being washed. Finally, in the midst of my hash-browns, Grandma asked me, "Who was that, dear?"
Refusing to look up, I responded, "No one."
Right then, Dad closed his paper and glared directly at me. Stunned that my father had managed to make eye contact for more than ten seconds, I stared back. That is until I realized I was in trouble.
"Oh, God," I exclaimed with a cheek full of hash brown, "Now what? What did I do?"
"Sammy, the attitude has to go." Dad answered, firmly, "What you said to your mom last night was uncalled for and I think you need to apologize."
"Michael…" Mom interjected
"No, Star, she needs to…" Dad interrupted
"No, Michael! She will apologize to me when she's ready. I will not have you bully it out of her," Mom scolded.
It wasn't a revelation, Mom standing up for me, but the fact that she rebuked Dad was. It was also kind of funny. I brought a hand to my mouth, leaning into it, attempting to hide the grin. Grandma seemed to do the same behind a dishtowel. Dad glowered at me, though I dared not look at him.
A second later, Mom sat at the table across from me. "Listen, honey, about what you said last night, you're right."
"I am?" I asked, slightly astounded
"Not in the way you said it, but yes. You've done more than enough to earn back our trust and we haven't been very receptive." Her eyes connected with Dad's, a secret agreement between them.
"Your mom's right. So we're gonna back off," upon seeing my delight he added, "a little." The final word was very pointed, very Dad-like.
Mom chimed back in, "There are still rules."
"Okay. Such as?" I asked warily, sure that I'd be chained to my bed after a certain time each night.
"We have to know where you are; who you're with; cell phone on and with you at all times; you'll have a curfew…" her voice trailed off as though she were forgetting something
"It's not unreasonable." I responded truthfully
"No drinking. No drugs." Dad added, softly, reaching across the table to grab my hand.
The unexpected touch caused tears to well. There was no mistrust in his voice, just weary concern. I simply responded, "I won't, Daddy."
He clasped my neck and lightly kissed my forehead. When he released my hand, I instinctively wiped away my tears. Content with the outcome Grandma, who'd been watching the entire ordeal, smiled gleefully and returned to washing the dishes.
"Any questions?" Mom asked
"What's my curfew?" I queried with a slight giggle
"I think eleven's a good place to start." Dad said simply
"Eleven?" I scrunched my nose. Both parents' eyes narrowed. I put my hands up defensively, "Okay. Okay. Eleven it is…but is it negotiable?" I added while presenting the goofiest smile, deciding to try my luck.
Dad actually grinned at me, "Let's just see how eleven goes, okay?" He stood, clearing my plate from the table.
"Okay." I conceded, wondrous at the battle that had been avoided. Just then, Seth came to mind.
"In the spirit of this new arrangement," I began, shifting in my seat, "Seth invited me over for dinner…tonight."
"Who?" Grandma asked, turning around once again.
"Seth, the nobody on the phone. He moved here last summer with his dad. He did odd jobs for Papa Glen." I explained, leaving out the detail of him being the reason I'd been late the previous night.
"Mm…doesn't sound familiar, but hell I can't keep up with all the neighbor kids anymore." Grandma answered, gesturing with the dishtowel. Dad nearly lost an eye.
"How well do you know Seth?" Mom asked, a little concern in her voice
"Not well, but he was at the funeral and came by the house a couple times." I half-lied
Dad leaned against the counter, arms crossed, "I want to meet him." His scrutinizing tone was back.
"Okay. I'll see if he'll come by again." I said, hoping to appease my father.
"That's fine with me," Mom countered, "Is that okay with you, Mom?"
Grandma dried her hands, "Sure, that'd be great." Dad simply nodded, then pushed off the counter and stalked into the other room.
I jumped up, more excitedly than intended, and moved to the kitchen phone. I had picked up the receiver before I realized, I don't have Seth's number. Papa Glen had been technophobic until the end, so no luck of a caller ID. I star 69'd. As it rang, I hoped he'd pick up.
"Hello?" a deeper voice than Seth's, though not by much, answered
"Uh, hi. Is Seth there?" I asked timidly
"Sure, just sec."
I heard the phone clatter against a hard surface and, who I assumed to be, Seth's dad call for him. I didn't hear Seth respond but a few seconds later, "Hello?"
"Hey, it's Sam."
"Yeah, I know. What's up?" his tone indifferent
"If the invite is still open, I'd like to have dinner with you."
"What changed?" he asked, only the slightest interest being audible
"The war turned out to be more like a training exercise." I joked, praying he'd join in the jest.
Several tension-building moments passed. Finally he answered, "Okay. Yeah, it's still open. Truthfully, it never closed," his smile once again perceptible through the phone, "Should I pick you up?"
I beamed, "Yeah, that'd be great. Just so you know; my parents want to meet you before I come over."
He only hesitated momentarily, but in that moment I panicked. Crap, deal breaker, I thought to myself.
"No problem," he assured, "I'll be there about 7: 30."
"Great. I'll see you then." I answered, smiling so much my cheeks hurt. He said good-bye and hung up. I returned the receiver to its cradle and turned to eager faces with curious eyes. Mom and Grandma stood side-by-side, smiling foolishly.
"Shut up." I said sheepishly, rushing from the room before all the blood flooded my face.
I spent the rest of the morning helping Dad clean out Papa Glen's garage. The conversation was light, but pleasant. It mainly revolved around the numerous times Dad "snuck" Papa's classic car out for joyrides, which only resulted in lectures about Dad forgetting to fill up the gas tank; or the remodeling and rebuilding of the livingroom and the fireplace after it supposedly collapsed for some reason that was never fully explained. Dad simply said, "Grandpa drove his Jeep into it."
When the sun slipped into the late afternoon, I went inside to get ready. The showering part was easy, but I had no idea what I was going to wear. Was this a full-on date? Just friends having dinner? Dressy? Casual? Dressy-casual? Outside of my funeral dress, all my clothes consisted of jeans, polo's, and t-shirts. I changed at least four times before deciding on a dark-wash jean and a black t-shirt, with a silver angel wings design and a V-neck cut into the fabric; dark, wavy hair in a pony-tail; gloss and mascara. It would have to do.
The sun began to dip below the horizon and I got nervous. Each of my family members kept casting eyes toward me, only heightening my anxiety. I tried to ignore them, to no avail. I slouched into the sofa watching the sun slowly inch downward, clutching more than chewing my index fingernail between my teeth. I'd completely zoned out, gallivanting in Wonderland, when the phone startled me so horribly that I screamed.
Dad actually laughed out loud at my reaction. "Relax, honey," he said picking up the phone, "Hello? Hey, little brother. How's La-La Land?"
He remained silent for a minute, listening to Uncle Sam on the other side. He paced a little, his free arm wrapped around his chest supporting the one holding the phone. "Yeah?...That's great! So you think you'll be able to get back soon?...Uh-huh." Dad smiled, "You're just trying to avoid helping. Whatever, dipshit. No, she's here."
I rotated in the couch, kneeling against the back, stretching for the phone. Dad playfully batted me away, "Well, she probably won't want to talk for long….A couple of reasons, actually. One: You're not that cool. Two: She's got a date."
I leapt for the phone, "DAD!" He simply stepped back, but I managed to catch his shirt. Even with my grappling, my father persisted on embarrassing me.
"His name's Seth and according to her mother she blushed when she got off the phone with him…"
I yanked the phone away, "Dad, you suck." Dad merely giggled, thoroughly content with himself.
"Sam?" I asked the phone
"Sammy! Hey, kiddo. So, you're gettin' some play while I'm gone, huh? Here, I thought I was the coolest guy in your life," he teased
"He's just a friend." I explained, grateful he couldn't see me blush as I resettled back into the couch, "Besides, you are the coolest guy in my life."
"Aw. I just got all misty-eyed."
"Shut up," I said, "You'd better watch yourself. Dad's coming in a close second today."
"Oh, really? How's that?"
"I kind of exploded at Mom last night. I wasn't home by the time I said I would be, but I couldn't take another lecture and I blew up."
"I think that's been a long time coming."
"Well, anyway, I expected this huge blow out today, especially from Dad, but didn't happen. Instead, they agreed to back off as long as I follow a few simple rules. We're gonna just see how it goes."
"That's great, kid!" silence fell briefly before he spoke again, "I've got to say this though, all right? You know I've been on your side all along, trying to help you with the parentals, but can't abuse the trust this time, okay?"
It was my turn to be silent. Finally, I said, "Yeah, I know. I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Okay. Talk to you later, jail-bait."
"Later, queer-bait."
As I put the phone back, I heard the gravel rustling outside. A car had just pulled up to the house. Stress smacked me in the face once again. I sat, unclear of what to do. God! I'm being ridiculous, I thought to myself. After an eternity, I decided to meet him outside. I opened the door and stepped out just as he ascended the second porch step. Thankfully, he was dress just as casually as me; jeans and a form-fitted black t-shirt with shaggy blonde hair pinned beneath sunglasses. Crystalline blue eyes met mine and when he saw me he smiled.
"Hey."
I couldn't help but to smile back, "Hi."
We stood at the top of the steps for a moment, like jr. high kids on a first date. At last, I showed him into the house and thankfully my parents were cool enough not to be waiting just inside the threshold. However, they weren't cool enough to filter in to meet Seth. No, instead everyone, including Grandma, stampeded in from the kitchen when he'd taken two steps beyond the door. I was all but shoved out of the way.
"Hi, I'm Star. Sammy's mom." Mom's voice had increased about four octaves when she spoke. I looked at her incredulously. She simply shrugged and stepped away.
"I'm Sam's grandma and Michael's mom, Lucy Emerson," Grandma announced excitedly, nearly taking Seth's arm at the shoulder socket.
When Grandma finished assaulting my new friend's extremity, she stepped aside revealing my dad almost ceremoniously. Dad strode forward, coming much closer than his predecessors. I hadn't been aware exactly how tall Seth was until he stood next to my father. Dad wasn't diminutive by any means, but next to Seth he… What a difference three inches makes? I couldn't help but think to myself.
Seth held out his hand, "Seth Ramsey."
"Michael Emerson, Sam's dad," my father responded simply.
A silence dropped between us all. Grandma and Mom grinning like Stepford Wives and Dad glaring at Seth like an interrogation prospect really helped the comforting atmosphere. Not surprisingly, Seth made the first move, pulling a folded paper from his pocket. He offered it to Dad explaining, "Here's my address and phone number. Just thought it'd be a good idea."
Dad took it cautiously, though I don't know what he expected it to do. When he unfolded it he seemed satisfied enough, nodding, "Okay. Thank you." He shook Seth's hand one last time, "Her curfew is eleven o'clock."
With that he strolled back into the kitchen and the matriarchs descended upon Seth with good-byes then upon me with hugs, kisses, and well-wishes. I struggled to pull away, grabbing my jacket as I escaped through the door, Seth following close behind. We made it out just as the last of the sun snuck below the horizon.
"I'm so sorry. My family's a little nuts." I offered as we descended the porch steps
"Don't worry about it. Mine's not much better."
When we reached his car I stopped dead. Seth came to my side, "Something wrong?"
"A 1967 Shelby? Are you kidding me?"
"A musician and a gear-head? What are the odds?" he teased, opening the passenger side door. I bounded over, hopping in the car without another hesitation.
When he settled into the driver seat I asked, "I don't know. What are the odds of a 20-something kid having a 1967 Shelby Mustang GT 500?"
"Pretty good when you're a rich kid." he responded, gunning the gas at the end of the driveway, far from the parents' view.
The winding roads added to the breath-taking view. Lush trees blurred against the backdrop of the cliff-side to left and the deepening black of the ocean on the right. Seth seemed to revel in my wonderment. Sly smiles and clever quips escaped his lips several times on the twenty minute drive to his home. Within minutes my anxiety had slipped away as we fell into conversation easily. Just during the ride alone, I must have considered calling my parents to renegotiate my curfew at least a dozen times, but ultimately decided against it.
Within what felt like seconds, we were pulling into a long driveway. I'd expected a grander house, given his statement in the car. Hell, it was bigger than any place I'd lived or been, but next to the cliff-side it became quaint. Seth's house proved the perfect complement to its surroundings. Though more modern than other houses I'd seen, the large stone masonry and deep natural hues gave an ancient and rustic feel.
Once inside Seth excused himself, but told me to make myself comfortable. I moved past the large foyer as he disappeared down a hallway to the right, making my way to the great room. The large windows exposed the now deep black ocean view. The room spread at least the eight feet in any direction from the center of the room, including the open kitchen with the breakfast bar. I moved to a lush crimson-red sofa that stood out against the stark white carpet and walls. It was then I noticed the paintings, abstracts of shadows and colors. Each one unique and beautiful.
"Sorry about that. I was letting Dad know we were here." Seth's voice sounded behind me. Next to him stood another blonde, blue-eyed man dressed neatly in a white dress shirt and black slacks. Though he wasn't as tall and his hair much shorter, Seth's dad had the same crystalline blue eyes. Save for the eyes, the most shocking aspect of his father's appearance was his youth. He didn't seem old enough to have a 21 year-old son, but then again neither did Mom or Dad. I was born barely past Dad's 18th birthday and just weeks before Mom's. Perhaps, Seth was a teenage pregnancy, too. Even still, I would struggle to place his dad's age higher than 30.
He stepped forward with a warm smile, holding out his hand, "It's nice to meet you. I'm David Ramsey."
I accepted, returning the smile, "Thank you. It's nice to meet you too."
"Thank you. I'm sorry to do this to you, but I won't be able to join you two for dinner. I've got an unexpected appointment…well, more like an expected disaster to take care of," he moved back toward the door and his jacket hanging on a nearby hook.
"I just wanted you to meet him before he disappeared," Seth cast a disapproving look toward his father, "so you at least know he's real."
"Oh, that's okay. Someone's got to pay for your Mustang." I teased
David laughed. "Yes, thank you," he hugged his son and opened the door; "I like her. Be good."
"Yeah, yeah. Bye." Seth smirked, rolling his eyes as he shut the door behind his dad.
He stepped down into the great room, sighing, "You know, I also have a motorcycle. So he's got to pay for that one, too."
"Oh, really? Well, then it's probably a good thing he's working. You sound expensive." I mocked
Seth exaggerated a scoff of disagreement as he collapsed onto the sofa. I followed suit, but made sure to leave plenty of space between us.
"I made lasagna. It should be ready in about fifteen minutes."
"You made lasagna?" I asked skeptically
"Yes! And I'm offended you would presume that I can't cook." He feigned
I cocked my eyebrow, searching for the truth in his face. He finally laughed and repositioned to sit straighter in the couch.
"I actually did make it. Dad's a bit of a health nut. He insists any junk we eat must be made at home."
"Oh, that kind of explains it." The words escaped before I could catch myself.
"Explains what?" Seth asked
"Nothing," I responded, slightly embarrassed, "I guess, just why your Dad looks so young."
"What do you mean? You're parents look young." Seth answered
"Well, that's because they were 'oversexed teenagers,'" I gestured with air quotes, "and while they never happier than the day I was born, they would never wish a teenage pregnancy on me."
Seth chuckled, "Really? They said that to you?"
I nodded. He continued, still smiling, "Well, my parents had me young too."
"Can I ask what happened to your mom?" I inquired gingerly
"Uh, yeah, she's gone." Seth's face darkened a little with the statement, his smile no longer reaching his eyes.
"I'm sorry." I touched his hand, unwittingly.
His thumb reached up and gently pinned my fingers, "No worries. It was a long time ago."
I felt the urge to pull away, to keep the boundary up between us, but more so I wanted to leave my hand entwined in his. We sat there, silently, both gazing at our intermingled hands. His thumb softly stroked each finger, sending electricity down my spine. Time stretched out in waves. My focus shifted deeply between indistinct shadows and pointed clarity. Without warning, a piercing ring burst through the air. I nearly climbed the walls and let out a little shriek.
Seth chuckled, "It's just the food. It's ready. C'mon," he said pulling me by our entangled fingers.
Jesus, when the fuck did I get so skittish? I thought to myself.
We sat at the dark granite breakfast bar. Seth insisted on serving. He wouldn't allow me to help at all. I had to admit, the lasagna smelled delicious. I told him as much, but didn't swoon over it. He set plates, glasses, cloth napkins. It was very non-Emerson. The general rule at an Emerson get together was, 'First come, first serve. You snooze, you lose.' I'd barely settled into my role as guest when Seth pulled out the wine bottle. Evidently, it was a very good year of Merlot, though not a great as the previous batch. He poured the wine and set it front of me before I could refuse. It only took an instant before he noticed my hesitation.
"Don't you want any?" he asked, not pushing but more concerned.
"I can't…" I blurted out
His brow furrowed, a curious grin across his lips, "You're legal, aren't you?"
"Yes, but…" the words fumbled within my brain, "I just can't."
"No problem," he smiled, removing the glass, "Another part of that long story, huh?"
"Yeah, and it wasn't a long time ago."
"It's okay," he assured, "You don't have to tell me."
I took a deep breath, attempting to control my racing heart. The thing of it was; I wanted to tell him. So few, outside my family, knew what had happened. I wanted someone else to know.
"I'm a musician, a gear-head, an alcoholic, and an addict." I stated, almost robotically
"I figured that much." Seth smiled
I chuckled, "I've been playing some kind of instrument or singing since I was about three years old. Well, long exposition short, I competed and toured a lot. Advance placement classes, blah, blah, blah, and I was able to finish high school by the time I was seventeen." Seth merely nodded in acknowledgement.
"Anyway, I was accepted into a very prestigious music school."
"Julliard?" he asked genuinely, taking bites of his lasagna
"No," I smiled, "Thank you, but no. It was a conservatory school. They were all about music and music conservation. Very elite, very expensive. Even still, there all walks of life there. Uppity New York classically trained violinists to garage bands. Basically, if you were good, they would find a way to keep you there. Anyway, about halfway through my first year, I met this group. A band; Johnny, Jimmy, and Veronica. They'd heard one of my practices and loved it. They asked me to replace their lead singer who had just quit. I was completely psyched.
"So, long story short. My band and I live the rock 'n' roll lifestyle and quickly lost the rock 'n' roll part. Mom and Dad were freaked because they're getting calls that I was missing or I needed bail money. I ended up with a DUI, numerous property damage charges and petty theft. Every time I'm came home on holiday, when I came home, I would steal or cause some kind of trouble.
"At any rate, after nearly two years of this, the parental units decide they're gonna yank me out of school. I came home at the beginning of December, but I didn't stop partying. My best friend since grade school came with me everywhere, partly to watch out for me but mostly to help me party. Anyway, I was into harder stuff than she was and she wanted a taste. I gave her one and she loved it.
"We felt invincible, especially racing around the mountain roads. I was driving. We went over a 12 foot embankment, not a direct drop-off, but I couldn't control the speed and we hit a tree at 80 miles an hour. My friend was ejected from the car. She was in coma for twenty-seven days. She still doesn't fully remember who she is or her family. Luckily, she's walking again but she still has to re-learn everything, from tying her shoes to basic math. I was in the hospital for two months before I was healthy enough for my arraignment.
"My parents got me an excellent defender. Plus, I had a…I guess, lenient judge. He didn't think I deserved hard time, but he maxed out every other punishment as much as he could. Twelve months of rehab, six in-patient, six out. A year of house arrest. My fines are nearly as much as my tuition and I'll be doing community service until the end of time. The funny truth is, I wanted it. Jail time, that is, I thougt I deserved it. I mean, essentially I killed my best friend."
Tears spilled over before I could stop them; thankfully the sobs remained in my chest. I kept my eyes to the floor, breathing deeply. Seth's hand reached out, gently lifting my chin.
"She's alive." He said it, simply. As if to say, that's all that mattered. It brought new tears to my eyes. I closed them tight, trying to cut off the flow.
"Hey, look at me. Is she happy?"
I couldn't think, "Uh…I g….I guess. She smiles and laughs a lot."
"That's all that matters."
I wiped my tears away with resolve. "I really know how to bring down a party, don't I?"
Seth laughed, "Don't worry about it. I'll just never invite you over again."
I chuckled, the smile brought relief to my face, "Well, good. I'll never have to eat your cooking again."
"Oh! Nice manners," Seth feigned offense, "Just eat your food and drink your water, lush."
The remainder of our "party" provided no more conversational casualties. I felt lighter now that he knew and elated that he didn't cast me out for my mistakes and utter fuck-ups. We spoke effortlessly, teasingly, openly.
After he cleared the plates, we stepped out to the balcony. The moonless sky enveloped everything. The only light piercing any part of the darkness was the ambient glow from the kitchen through the glass. Seth stood beside me, wine in his hand, water in mine. The chilling wind blew up salted air. I hugged myself tightly, refusing to retreat indoors, relishing every ounce of air. Seth maneuvered behind me. I didn't look, expecting to feel him close me in his arms but yet again, he surprised me. A thin, yet plush throw cascaded around my shoulders in nearly instant warmth.
We'd stood in silence, aside from the crashing waves, for what seemed like hours. Then Seth spoke, "I think I should get you home."
"What time is it?" I asked suddenly aware that I hadn't even glanced at a clock since I'd arrived.
Seth looked at his watch, "10:26. Takes twenty minutes to get back to your house. I figure if I get you back a little early, maybe we can score you some brownie points for next time."
"Next time, huh?"
"I told we're gonna be good friends," he said shifting much closer to me. Grazing my hand with his fingertips, he removed the blanket, "C'mon. Let's get you home."
Just inside the house a loud noise issued from overhead. "What was that?"
"What?" Seth asked
The noise issued again, "That it sounds like thumping. Repetitive thumping."
"It's nothing. Sometimes we get birds that don't clear the top of the house and they thud against the roof. It's okay," he explained ushering me toward the door.
I wanted to stay, push the limit of my curfew, but followed Seth nonetheless out to his car. The drive home passed even quicker than ride up here. Before I knew it, we were pulling into the familiar driveway of my favorite cabin. As the car came to a stop, I unbuckled my seatbelt.
"Thanks, I had fun." I declared, attempting a fairly aloof tone.
"Me, too. Next time, I'll take you on my bike." Seth was much better at nonchalant than me.
I simply nodded, knowing that I couldn't say anything without sounding juvenile. I exited the car and strode toward the porch. I gazed back briefly and waved. Seth responded, but only a single movement allowed by two fingers loosed from the wheel. Damn it, he was good at the distant cool thing.
Astonishingly, no one was waiting for me. At least, there was no one in the living room. However, Mom descended the stairs moments later, though without the inkling of acrimony like the night before.
"How was it?" she inquired sincerely
I hung up my coat, "It was good."
"It was good and you still managed to make it home with fifteen minutes to spare," the irony more than apparent in her tone.
"Hardy, har, har." I retorted, ascending the staircase "I'm going to bed."
"Sammy, wait," she insisted catching me by the arm, "Thank you."
"No problem, Mom. I won't screw it up again."
"Can I tell you something? You have to promise not to get mad."
"Fine, what?" I said wondering
"I nearly had to strait-jacket your dad, to keep him from calling Seth's number," Mom relayed to me, stifling a giggle.
"What?" I scoffed, disbelieving the image of my mother pinning my father to the ground while ripping a phone receiver out of his hands. Also, slightly angry that my father had to be restrained at all.
"Yes. Just before you got here, he actually called. When no one answered, he was ready to send out a search party."
"Mom, I thought…" I started, but Mom interjected
"No, it wasn't because he doesn't trust you. I think he finally realized tonight, that you're not...not a, uh." Mom whispered, holding back a chuckle, using her eyes to urge the word into mind.
"What?!" I exclaimed, laughing out loud when Mom shushed me, "With everything that's happened, that's what he's concerned about?" I chest hummed with repressed laughter.
Mom nodded, keeping her finger to her mouth, urging me to be quiet.
"Oh, God. Okay, I'm going to bed."
"Good night, sweetie."
"Good night, Mom."