“I don’t want to sit back down,” I tell her. “I’m glad the surgery went well, and I hope you can get back home soon, but—”
“Jessica?” Eric interrupts.
“What?!” I yell, turning back toward him.
“I think I get it,” he says.
“Get what?” I ask.
“He’s your boyfriend, dear,” my mom says behind me.
“I hardly think that’s a call for you to make,” I start, but then it hits me.
My mom just gives words to the thought, “Well, you said so yourself. Didn’t you?”
I guess I did.
“Sometimes people need a little pressure to realize what they want and what they feel,” my mom says. “You were always a little tougher to crack than your sister. It’s a good thing Eric’s here, otherwise you might have just thought I was being cruel for the sake of being cruel. Say what you want about how you feel, dear, but you just stood up for him in a pretty profound way. You don’t usually do that sort of thing unless you really care for someone.”
“Even if that was your goal the whole time,” I tell her, “that doesn’t mean you have the right to talk about people that way.”
“And you’re still defending him,” my mom says and starts making kissing motions with her mouth.
“Come on,” I tell Eric and I storm out of the room.
He follows me down the hall, but I’m to the elevator before he catches up.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “I’m angry and I’m frustrated and I’m embarrassed—okay, mostly I’m embarrassed.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know,” I tell him. “Well, I could have thought through introducing you to my mother a little more carefully.”
“Hey,” he says, “if nothing else, I think we just had the talk.”
I look up him and, as the elevator doors open, he smiles and takes my hand.
“I think I’d be okay with being your boyfriend,” he says.
“Romantic as always,” I scoff and we get on the elevator.
Chapter Eighteen
A Constellation of Little Surprises
Eric
We pull up to Jessica’s parents’ house and sit out front, the car still running.
“I realize that we probably should have had that talk in private,” she says. “In my defense, I kind of tried to do it before we got to the hospital.”
“It’s all right,” I chuckle. “All things considered, I’m just glad it happened.”
I lean over and slowly press my lips against hers, but only for a moment.
“I have to warn you about my dad,” she says while looking into my eyes.
“You know, your mom really wasn’t that bad and you warned me about her. I think I’ll be all right,” I answer.
“She’s the more overtly abrasive of the two, but my dad is by far more protective. I’m just saying stay on your toes. He has a way of trapping you in an uncomfortable situation before you’re even aware you’re in it,” she says.
“I’ll just be my usual charming self,” I tell her. “That usually works pretty well for me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says. “Just remember that I warned you.”
I’m not going to lie, I am a little nervous now, but I’m just here to help her collect her things. We probably won’t even be here that long.
We get out of the car and I follow Jessica up to the door.
“Just think about everything you’re about to say before you say it,” she says. “Better yet, think about everything my dad says before you decide to say anything back.”
“Jessica,” I tell her, “it’s going to be fine. I’ve met the guy before and he seemed nice enough then.”
“Yeah, that was before he got all curious about the nature of our relationship,” she sighs. “Well, here we go,” she says and opens the front door.
We walk in and she calls out to her dad, letting him know that we’re here.
“I’ll be down in a minute!” he shouts back from somewhere upstairs. “I thought you said you were going to call first!”
“Shit,” she says. “I kind of forgot about that. My dad’s one of those guys who thinks that boxers are appropriate attire in the home. The family’s used to it, but just in case he comes around the corner with his gut hanging out, I just want you to be prepared.”
“I’m sure it’s endearing,” I tell her.
We stand in the entryway, Jessica says to “minimize the chances of coming into view of hanging brain,” and a few minutes later, there are footsteps coming down the stairs.
“I was already getting dressed when you came in,” her father says as he comes into view, thankfully fully clothed. “Ah, Eric,” he says. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Nice to see you again, too, sir,” I respond.
“You didn’t tell her, did you?” he asks.
“I did not,” I answer. “Your secret’s safe with me?”
“What secret?” Jessica asks, turning alternately to me and then to her dad and back to me while fidgeting with her watch.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” I tell her. “How are you doing tonight, sir?”
“Oh, call me Harold,” he says. “Do you like cannabis?”
There’s a question I didn’t expect.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I can’t say that I’ve tried it.”
“Would you like to?” he asks.
“Dad…” Jessica moans.
“Right,” Harold responds. “Well, you said you wanted to come by and pick up some stuff. What did you need?”
“I just wanted to grab some things from my closet,” Jessica says. “Eric’s going to give me a hand—we really don’t have that much time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Harold says and turns to me. “Early morning tomorrow, huh?”
“What? No,” I answer.
Jessica elbows me in the arm.
“What?” I ask, turning toward her.
“We’re just going to head upstairs real quick,” she says to her dad. “I’m sorry we can’t stay longer.”
“Well, maybe your friend here can keep me company while you’re upstairs getting things together,” he says. “How does that sound, Eric?”
“That’s fine with me,” I answer and Jessica elbows me again. “What?”
“I’m going to need his help carrying stuff,” Jessica says. “Do you mind?”
Harold, who had been standing at the bottom of the stairs, moves to one side so we can walk past. I don’t know why Jessica was elbowing me, but assuming Harold doesn’t follow us up the stairs, I plan to find out.
We get to the room and, with Jessica’s dad still on the main level, I close the door and ask, “What the hell were you elbowing me for?”
“The second one was because you should know from what I was telling you that it’s not a good idea for you and my dad to sit down and chat until you two get to know one another better,” she says. “The first one, that’s because you basically just told him that whatever our plans are tonight, we’re planning on waking up together in the morning.”
“I did not,” I defend and think back to the conversation, trying to piece together how she could have gotten to that conclusion.
“Whatever,” she says. “Let’s just grab the stuff and go before this gets any worse.”
She walks over to the closed closet door and opens it.
“What the fuck…?” she says in a half-whisper.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, coming up behind her.
“They’re gone,” she says, her voice shaky. “They’re all gone. They got rid of them.”
“Oh, I’m sure they didn’t get rid of your stuff,” I tell her. “Why don’t we just ask your dad if he knows where your boxes are and I’m sure he’ll know where to—”
“You don’t know my mother,” she says. “I know you think she’s some brilliant, altruistic woman who just happens to have a particularly grating technique of proving her point, but she really is about the most hateful person I’ve ever met. God, I feel like such a bitch saying that with her in the hospital.”
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I’m sure they’ll turn up around here somewhere. Let’s just go ask your dad.”
There’s a particular reason that I want her to ask her dad about this, but I promised him I wouldn’t give it away.