Find You in the Dark
Page 35
I loved having him in my house. I had eventually succumbed to parental pressure a week and a half ago, and invited Clay over for dinner. So my parents could interrogate, I mean meet him. It had started out fine enough. Clay had shown up promptly at 6:30 for dinner. I had opened the door and struggled to stop my jaw from hitting the floor.
He had dressed in perfectly pressed khaki pants and a blue stripped button down shirt. His black curls were slicked back, showing off his incredibly handsome face. He held a bundle of beautiful flowers that looked like they had cost as much as a small village.
“Hey, Maggie.” He said quietly after I had let him in the front door. He seemed really nervous, not that I blamed him. This whole thing reeked of awkwardness. “Those are beautiful.” I commented, indicating the ridiculously large bouquet.
“They're for your mom. You know, to butter her up. Figured I needed all the help I could get. Lord knows I can't impress her with my amazing charm.” Clay quipped in that self-deprecating way of his. I had lightly punched his arm. “They'll love you as much as I do.” I told him and almost swallowed my tongue.
Had I seriously just admitted to loving him? Dear God, I wanted to run out of the house and far away from the humiliation of the moment. But luckily, Clay was too nervous to catch on to my earth ending slip up. He had only given me a shaky smile and followed me into the kitchen where my mom was finishing up the chili she had made.
My dad was getting plates and glasses out of the cabinets, but he looked up when we entered the room. “Mom, Dad, this is Clayton Reed. Clay this is my mom and dad.” I gently tugged Clay into the room by his shirt sleeve.
He wasn't exactly digging his heals in, but it took some strength to get him moving. My mom turned around and bestowed on him her dazzling smile. She wiped her hands on a towel and came over to greet him. “Nice to meet you, Clayton. We've heard a lot about you.” Clay shook her hand and shot me a look.
“I don't talk about you that much, geesh.” I muttered, embarrassed. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Young. Thanks for having me over for dinner.” He handed her the bunch of flowers. “These are for you.” My mom's eyes brightened. She was such a sucker for them. Clay had unknowingly made the perfect move. “These are lovely, Clayton. Thank you so much. Let me put these in some water.”
My mom went in search of a vase, which left us with my normally mild mannered father who currently looked anything but mild. He was looking at Clay as though he were under a microscope. “How are you, Clay?” My father asked, shaking his hand. Clay winced as he pulled his hand from my father's grasp. Had my father seriously just squeezed Clay's knuckles together? Was he channeling Arnold Swartzenegger?
Shit, this was going to be worse than I thought. “Fine, sir.” Clay replied, tucking his hands into his pockets. “So, Maggie tells us that you just moved her to live with your aunt. Where are your parents?” I wanted to smack my father. He couldn't build up to the big questions like a normal person. No, he had to go right for the jugular.
Clay shifted a bit uncomfortably on his feet. He hated talking about his parents, so he never did. But he looked my father in the eye and answered him honestly. “My parents and I don't get along, sir. So, they had me come and live with my mother's sister Ruby. I like it a lot better here in Virginia.”
My father blinked in surprise at Clay's candor and some of the rigidness seemed to melt away. I wanted to smirk at my dad's own awkwardness. I could tell he didn't exactly know what to say to that. Well, take that Dad.
“Well, I'm glad to hear you like Virginia. It's a lovely place to live. Uh. I think your mom is done with the chili. Why don't we have a seat at the table.” My dad indicated for us to sit down. Clay looked at me and grimaced in apology. I squeezed his hand, letting him know it was all right.
Mom came back with the vase of flowers and placed them on the table. She fussed over them and positioned them so they were perfect. Clay and I sat down beside each other, mom and dad across from us. Mom served us our bowls of chili and homemade corn bread.
“This is delicious, Mrs. Young.” Clay said between mouthfuls. My mom glowed at the compliment. For someone who claimed to not be charming, he was doing a number on my mother. My dad had let up on his cool attitude, but continued to watch Clay closely.
“Thank you, Clayton. Well, the reason we wanted to have you over was so we could meet you. We don't like Maggie May riding around with boys we don't know.” My mom said, passing Clay the basket of bread.
My dad leaned forward on his elbows and stared at Clay. “We don't know anything about you and parents can't be too careful about their children these days. There are too many crazies out there.” I closed my eyes and bit down on my sigh. This was mortifying.
Clay swallowed his food and looked at my parents. “I totally understand. You can't be too careful about the crazies.” His words were sarcastic and I shot him a look that clearly asked what the hell he was doing.
My mom cleared her throat. “Well, tell me, Clayton. You're from Florida, right?” She asked, trying to move the conversation into another direction. Clay stiffened beside me and his entire demeanor changed. Little did my mom know this was the last topic Clay wanted to talk about.
“Yeah, he's from Florida. But he loves Virginia. We had a blast at the outdoor market in Charlottesville last weekend. Remember that crazy vendor with the bird feeders made from gourds? They were too funny.” I rambled desperately.
He had dressed in perfectly pressed khaki pants and a blue stripped button down shirt. His black curls were slicked back, showing off his incredibly handsome face. He held a bundle of beautiful flowers that looked like they had cost as much as a small village.
“Hey, Maggie.” He said quietly after I had let him in the front door. He seemed really nervous, not that I blamed him. This whole thing reeked of awkwardness. “Those are beautiful.” I commented, indicating the ridiculously large bouquet.
“They're for your mom. You know, to butter her up. Figured I needed all the help I could get. Lord knows I can't impress her with my amazing charm.” Clay quipped in that self-deprecating way of his. I had lightly punched his arm. “They'll love you as much as I do.” I told him and almost swallowed my tongue.
Had I seriously just admitted to loving him? Dear God, I wanted to run out of the house and far away from the humiliation of the moment. But luckily, Clay was too nervous to catch on to my earth ending slip up. He had only given me a shaky smile and followed me into the kitchen where my mom was finishing up the chili she had made.
My dad was getting plates and glasses out of the cabinets, but he looked up when we entered the room. “Mom, Dad, this is Clayton Reed. Clay this is my mom and dad.” I gently tugged Clay into the room by his shirt sleeve.
He wasn't exactly digging his heals in, but it took some strength to get him moving. My mom turned around and bestowed on him her dazzling smile. She wiped her hands on a towel and came over to greet him. “Nice to meet you, Clayton. We've heard a lot about you.” Clay shook her hand and shot me a look.
“I don't talk about you that much, geesh.” I muttered, embarrassed. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Young. Thanks for having me over for dinner.” He handed her the bunch of flowers. “These are for you.” My mom's eyes brightened. She was such a sucker for them. Clay had unknowingly made the perfect move. “These are lovely, Clayton. Thank you so much. Let me put these in some water.”
My mom went in search of a vase, which left us with my normally mild mannered father who currently looked anything but mild. He was looking at Clay as though he were under a microscope. “How are you, Clay?” My father asked, shaking his hand. Clay winced as he pulled his hand from my father's grasp. Had my father seriously just squeezed Clay's knuckles together? Was he channeling Arnold Swartzenegger?
Shit, this was going to be worse than I thought. “Fine, sir.” Clay replied, tucking his hands into his pockets. “So, Maggie tells us that you just moved her to live with your aunt. Where are your parents?” I wanted to smack my father. He couldn't build up to the big questions like a normal person. No, he had to go right for the jugular.
Clay shifted a bit uncomfortably on his feet. He hated talking about his parents, so he never did. But he looked my father in the eye and answered him honestly. “My parents and I don't get along, sir. So, they had me come and live with my mother's sister Ruby. I like it a lot better here in Virginia.”
My father blinked in surprise at Clay's candor and some of the rigidness seemed to melt away. I wanted to smirk at my dad's own awkwardness. I could tell he didn't exactly know what to say to that. Well, take that Dad.
“Well, I'm glad to hear you like Virginia. It's a lovely place to live. Uh. I think your mom is done with the chili. Why don't we have a seat at the table.” My dad indicated for us to sit down. Clay looked at me and grimaced in apology. I squeezed his hand, letting him know it was all right.
Mom came back with the vase of flowers and placed them on the table. She fussed over them and positioned them so they were perfect. Clay and I sat down beside each other, mom and dad across from us. Mom served us our bowls of chili and homemade corn bread.
“This is delicious, Mrs. Young.” Clay said between mouthfuls. My mom glowed at the compliment. For someone who claimed to not be charming, he was doing a number on my mother. My dad had let up on his cool attitude, but continued to watch Clay closely.
“Thank you, Clayton. Well, the reason we wanted to have you over was so we could meet you. We don't like Maggie May riding around with boys we don't know.” My mom said, passing Clay the basket of bread.
My dad leaned forward on his elbows and stared at Clay. “We don't know anything about you and parents can't be too careful about their children these days. There are too many crazies out there.” I closed my eyes and bit down on my sigh. This was mortifying.
Clay swallowed his food and looked at my parents. “I totally understand. You can't be too careful about the crazies.” His words were sarcastic and I shot him a look that clearly asked what the hell he was doing.
My mom cleared her throat. “Well, tell me, Clayton. You're from Florida, right?” She asked, trying to move the conversation into another direction. Clay stiffened beside me and his entire demeanor changed. Little did my mom know this was the last topic Clay wanted to talk about.
“Yeah, he's from Florida. But he loves Virginia. We had a blast at the outdoor market in Charlottesville last weekend. Remember that crazy vendor with the bird feeders made from gourds? They were too funny.” I rambled desperately.
