Saturday, May 14, 2005
(Mike)
It had been a week since Prom, and I had finally invited Leah to meet my parents. Honestly, I should've done it a long time ago, but between everything that had been going on and my very real fear of my mom pulling out the old photo albums filled with humiliating pictures of my infancy, I kept putting it off.
Unfortunately for me, my mom had insisted I invite my girlfriend over, and Leah had been insisting just as much that she wanted to meet my parents. With both of them united against me, I really didn't have a choice but to agree.
Now it was around two in the afternoon, after lunch, and I was in my room trying to make it presentable. I hadn't cleaned it in almost two months, and calling it a pigsty might have been generous. Dirty clothes were scattered haphazardly across the floor, empty soda cans and snack wrappers overflowed from the trash basket, and a fine layer of dust clung stubbornly to every flat surface.
I started by gathering all the clothes and tossing them into a laundry pile, then stripped the bed and replaced the sheets with clean ones. After that, I emptied the trash, wiped down the furniture, and did my best to make the room look like it was inhabited by a functional human being.
When I finally finished, I stepped back and looked around, surprised it didn't look half bad. I let out a long breath and wiped the imaginary sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.
Good enough. Hopefully.
…
An hour later, Leah finally arrived in her old Honda Civic.
I saw it through my bedroom window first and immediately felt my stomach drop. This was it. No backing out now. I glanced at myself in the mirror one last time, adjusted my shirt, and took a deep breath before heading downstairs.
The front door opened before I even reached the last step.
"There she is!" my mom announced, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.
I cringed. "Mom, please don't yell."
Leah stepped inside, looking effortlessly confident and completely unaware she was walking into enemy territory. She smiled politely, her posture straight, hands clasped in front of her like she was meeting royalty instead of my parents.
"Hi," she said warmly. "I'm Leah. It's really nice to finally meet you."
"Oh, honey, we know exactly who you are," my mom said, already beaming. "I'm Karen. And this is Bradley, Mike's father."
My dad nodded and offered a handshake. "Nice to meet you, Leah. We've heard a lot about you."
Leah shook his hand. "All good things, I hope."
My dad opened his mouth, probably to say something reassuring, but my mom beat him to it.
"Well, that depends," she said thoughtfully. "We know you make him happy, which is wonderful. But we also know he hasn't stopped talking about you since Prom."
"Mom," I groaned.
Leah's smile widened. "Is that so?"
"Oh, absolutely," she continued. "He came home that night grinning like he'd won the lottery. I asked him how Prom was, and he just said, 'Great,' and walked straight into a wall."
My dad chuckled. "Didn't even slow him down."
Leah laughed, covering her mouth. "I'm sorry… I think?"
I felt my face heat up. "I was distracted."
"Uh-huh," my mom said, clearly not buying it. "Anyway, come in, come in. Shoes off or on, I don't care. I vacuumed twice."
Leah kept her shoes on, shooting me an amused look as she followed them into the living room.
"So," my mom said, sitting down and immediately leaning forward like she was about to conduct an interrogation. "Tell us about yourself."
Before Leah could answer, my dad cleared his throat. "Karen."
"What? I'm interested."
Leah handled it like a champ. "Well, I'm from La Push, I just graduated, and I'm planning on…"
"She's very smart," my mom interrupted, nodding firmly. "Mike needs that. He once tried to microwave a Pop-Tart with the foil still on."
"That was one time!" I protested.
"And the microwave never recovered," my dad added dryly.
Leah laughed again, clearly enjoying this far more than I was. "I promise I'll keep him away from kitchen appliances."
"Oh, thank you," my mom said dramatically. "That's all we ask."
Then she tilted her head and smiled sweetly. "So… how serious are you two?"
I nearly choked.
Leah blinked, then answered without missing a beat. "Pretty serious."
My mom clasped her hands together. "I knew it. He's been cleaning his room."
My dad raised an eyebrow. "That is serious."
I buried my face in my hands. "Can we please talk about literally anything else?"
Leah reached over and squeezed my hand, still smiling. "It's okay. I think they're wonderful."
My mom's eyes softened immediately. "Oh, I like her."
My dad nodded. "Same."
And just like that, I knew I was doomed, but at least I was doomed with someone who fit right in.
I decided right then and there that if I stayed downstairs another five seconds, I would die of secondhand embarrassment, so I invited Leah to my room.
"Well," my dad said casually, folding his arms with a grin that told me he was enjoying this far too much, "just remember, no making me a grandpa too early."
I froze.
Leah's eyes widened for half a second before her cheeks turned a very impressive shade of red.
"Oh, don't be like that," my mom chimed in, waving a hand dismissively. "I wouldn't be against it. I'd even help take care of the baby."
I made a strangled sound somewhere between a cough and a plea for mercy.
Leah burst out laughing, covering her face with both hands. "Wow. You guys don't waste any time, huh?"
"That's my family," I muttered. "No filter. Ever."
Before either of my parents could say another word, I grabbed Leah's hand.
"Room. Now," I said.
She didn't resist in the slightest.
I practically dragged her upstairs, ignoring my dad's laughter and my mom calling after us to "leave the door open," which only made Leah laugh harder.
Once inside my room, I shut the door behind us and leaned against it, exhaling deeply.
"I am so sorry," I said. "They're usually not that bad."
Leah was still smiling, her blush slowly fading. "Are you kidding? That was amazing. Your mom already offered free childcare and I've been here five minutes."
"Please don't encourage them."
She walked past me, turning in a slow circle as she took in my room. "So this is where the legendary Mike Newton lives."
I groaned. "Legendary is not the word I'd use."
To my credit, the room was clean, unusually so. The bed was made, the desk organized, and the floor didn't look like it was auditioning for a biohazard warning.
Leah raised an eyebrow. "Wow. You cleaned."
"I panicked."
She laughed and sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly. "It's nice. Very… you."
"That doesn't sound reassuring."
She stood again and wandered around, inspecting my shelves, picking up a couple of old trophies, flipping through a book.
"Basketball, mechanics, music…" she paused, smirking as she grabbed a figurine of Super Saiyan Goku. "You're such a nerd."
"Says the girl who color-codes her playlists. And that's Goku, he protects me from nightmares."
"That's organization, not nerdiness."
I watched her as she reached my closet and slid the door open.
There was a beat of silence.
Then…
"…Mike."
I closed my eyes. "Please don't."
She leaned in, staring with reverent awe.
Inside the closet, illuminated by a small string of lights, was a carefully arranged collection: a printed picture of Rick Astley, a candle, a couple of CDs, and, for reasons I could no longer justify, a tiny framed lyric card that read "Never Gonna Give You Up."
She slowly turned to look at me.
"You have," she said carefully, "an altar."
"It's not an altar."
She pointed. "There are candles."
"They're decorative."
"And offerings?" she said pointing at the chocolate bar and soda can resting in a small cushion.
"…Okay, maybe a little altar."
Leah burst out laughing, doubling over and holding her stomach. "Oh my God. This is the best thing I've ever seen."
"It was a joke that went too far," I defended myself. "Once you commit, you have to see it through."
She wiped a tear from her eye. "I knew there was something wrong with you."
"And yet," I said, stepping closer, "you still came."
She smiled up at me, softer now. "Yeah. I did."
I wrapped my arms around her waist, resting my forehead against hers. "Thanks for surviving my parents."
"Anytime," she said. "Next time, though, I want a warning before the baby talk."
"No promises," I said. "But I'll try to make them behave."
She laughed again, and for the first time since she arrived, the embarrassment faded, replaced by something warm, familiar, and very real, just the two of us, tucked away from the world, and apparently from Rick Astley's encouraging gaze in my closet.
…