Mom scoots potatoes around her plate, her eyes following the motion. Dad does the same with the last of his green beans. Jesus. They act like pouty children. I love my parents, always, but this is ridiculous.
Chair legs scrape the wood floor as I rise and grab my plate and head for the kitchen. I scrape the last of my food into the trash, rinse the plate and put it in the dishwasher. I drag my fingers through my hair and tug.
Shelly prepped me for what was coming tonight, but I had no idea it would set me off. Not like this. I don’t typically lash out at my parents. Tonight, though, feels different. The weight, the pressure… an expectation I have never dealt with from them fists my heart in painful ways.
And I don’t know how to handle it.
“Micah?” Mom calls out, her voice soft as she approaches.
“In the kitchen.”
She rounds the corner, sets her plate on the counter, walks straight to me and wraps her arms around my waist. My arms wrap around her waist as I haul her closer and rest my cheek on her head.
“Sorry,” she mumbles against my chest.
I rub a hand up and down her back. “It’s fine, Mom. Just please, respect our choices. And privacy. We’ll tell you when the time comes. Promise.”
She drops her arms and steps back. “Okay.” Matching eyes hold mine as a gentle smile curves up her lips. “Just want you both happy.”
Shelly and Dad shuffle into the kitchen and clean their plates. The thorny topic gets dropped and we dish out dessert—mixed berries and chocolate cake with fresh whipped cream. Shelly and I hang out a while longer once our plates empty. Fortunately, everyone but me has to be up in the morning. So, the evening ends early.
Hugs are exchanged on the front porch as Shelly and I step out to leave. Mom says she will reach out to us both for the next get-together.
On the way to our cars, Shelly mutters, “Thanks for the save earlier.”
I bump her shoulder with my arm. “Always, little sis. They mean well, but their persistence frustrated me.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that.” She chuckles as we reach her car and she opens the door. “Remind me to never pester you.”
“Whatever.” I play shove her in the car. “Drive safe. Love you.”
She blows me a kiss. “Love you, too, big brother. Talk to you later.”
* * *
I drain the last of my beer. The Peaky Blinders episode ends and I shut off the television. Silence engulfs me as I turn off lights, close blinds and curtains, and check the door locks.
The short distance to my bedroom is a mile long tonight. My usual solace with solitude has taken a back seat.
I strip my clothes, toss them in the hamper, pull back the bedding and slip under the covers. For a moment, I lie in the dark with an arm tossed over my eyes. Take a few breaths as all the relationship talk filters back in from earlier tonight.
My parents mean well, but don’t grasp the example they set for us. Shelly and I will never just settle. Not for some random person who we check some boxes off with. No, whoever we choose will have to check off all the boxes. Will have to fill all the cracks and seal old wounds. Make us see the world with new eyes. Make us feel.
We aren’t emotionless people, but Shelly and I don’t give away love freely. And letting someone new get close is a feat. Years ago, I let people in easier. Loved more openly with family, friends, and romantic interests. Then Rochelle fucked me over and my trust in the opposite sex fizzled. At least when it came to love.
Until Peyton.
I slap a hand in the direction of the nightstand and locate my phone. Tapping the screen, the background lights up. A picture of me and Shelly smiles back at me from my birthday this year. I unlock the phone, open the message app, and tap on Peyton’s name.
Too many days have passed since we texted back and forth. As of recent, the texts have been one sided. From me. She needs time, I get it. But I reject the idea of leaving her alone altogether. Out of sight and all that.
Before the idea dies, I type out a message to her and hit send.
Micah: Awkward dinner with the parents tonight ?? You’d think that’d end when you’re an adult.
I lock the screen, lay the phone on my stomach and stare at the wall. The shadows from the oak tree and streetlight dance over the cream-painted wall opposite my bed. Leaves flutter on the branches and I try to create other shapes out of their combined shadows.
I jolt when my phone vibrates. Fumble as it slides off my chest and hits the sheet. Scramble until I locate and unlock it.
Peyton: Probably wasn’t intentional.
For a moment, I stare at the screen and forget to breathe. She answered. That has to mean something. Right? Probably best to not read into it too much. Not yet, anyway.
Micah: Nah. They want us happy, but approached it all wrong.