Veni, Vidi, Vici

Grace was perched on the edge of her seat inside Marc’s car, her entire system of muscles clenched tight like a relentless closed fist. Her eyes were fixated forward on the winding road and her palms were open, flat out on her thighs. Every so and then, she would reach the apex of her anxiety, flex her hands and dig those short nails into the pale skin of her slender legs, creating tiny red crescent that washed away only to appear again after another bout of apprehension.

What if Bryony didn’t like her? She knew that even though they were only friends, Marc could do so much better than her, and it was clear as glass to the naked eye. Flex again. Harder. She jumped when she felt something brush the marks and looked down to see that Marc’s fingers were creating a tender compression to the waning moons on her skin. His thumbs were running lazy circles over the marks and Grace stifled a gasp when it ran higher up to almost her mid-thigh.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” He murmured absentmindedly, removing his hand to rest back on the steering wheel.

If the heady burn that Grace felt every time Marc touched her was real fire, then she would be naught but a pile of ashes on the floor. Grace sighed at her almost pathetic reactions, if she wanted him so badly then why couldn’t she just grab him? Just two weeks ago, he’d said that he liked her, so what was holding them back?

Grace’s musing instantly came to a halt when she caught the first sigh a soaring three story white bricked house. Mansion, you mean. The scene was breathtaking beyond anything she’d ever seen before and she was going to be actually inside it!

“Well, we’re here.” Marc stated, parking the car inside one of the many garages by the side of the house.

The sudden remark brought Grace back down to earth from her mindless gaping and the previous emotions washed over her once again “Um... Marc, can I just stay in the car?”

Marc’s brows drew together in confusion “You wanna talk to her in the car?”

“What? No! I um...” Grace looked away, avoiding his penetrating gaze.

“Grace, look at me.” His tone was commanding, but gentle, coaxing her attention “My ma’s gonna love you, no matter what, and if she doesn’t, then I’ll make her. Okay?”
Grace nodded, a vague wobble of her head as her mind was too strained to cope with reality. Marc stepped out of the car and walked over to her side, opening the door for her. She couldn’t help but give him a warm smile for the polite gesture, which he instantly returned.

“C’mon.” He urged, taking her hand and pulling her closer into his warm body.

They walked slowly up the steps leading up to the front door, with Grace staring at the elegant architecture in awe. Before they had even rung the bell, the door eased open and a petite women with hair as dark as Marc’s and ivory pale skin poked her head through. The woman’s eyes landed on Marc and the love in them was plain to see, then her gaze fell to Grace making her almost cringe in fright, yet the woman only smiled, the corner of her eyes crinkling into a mirror image of her son.
“I thought I heard you kids.” She said proudly, stepping out to greet them with open arms.

“Hey Ma, I brought someone to visit.”

Grace instinctively stepped behind Marc’s broader shoulders when Bryony looked at her again.

“Gee-whiz son! I didn’t notice! Why don’t you tell me something else ridiculously obvious while you’re at it?” she exclaimed with sarcasm.

Marc only grinned and rolled his eyes “Her names Grace, I brought her here for you to meet.”

“Oh! Hello Grace, I’m Marc’s mother if you hadn’t already gathered.” Bryony said with bubbly enthusiasm.

“Hi Mrs Winston.” Grace said, voice meek from anxiety.

“Okay guys, why don’t we go inside before we start camping out her.” Still with Grace’s hand firmly sitting in his, Marc steered her past Bryony and through the front door with a chuckling Bryony following behind.

Marc led her to the kitchen and hastily went to the fridge to find her something to drink. The truth was he was just as nervous about this gathering as Grace. He hadn’t brought a girl home since, well...six years ago when Tallulah Jackson came over to complete a science project on bullfrogs. He could literally feel his mother’s gaze burning his back, scrutinizing him and prodding his mind with her sharp intuition, he could just sense the approach of all her questions – How did you two meet? Is Marc a good boyfriend? Does he buy you flowers? Do you love each other? So when can I expect some grandkids?

Bryony sat down on the kitchen stool directly opposite Grace and looked over at her son. She was shocked at first, when she’d spied the two walking towards the house hand in hand and Marc’s body involuntarily shielding her with possessiveness. And even more so when she saw the girl close up, noticing her shy demeanor, conservative top and long flowery skirt. The complete opposite of what she’d seen Marc with when he had those parties at the house. It was obvious that this was the girl he’d been so utterly infatuated with in the past month yet Bryony could sense an unspoken tension weaving between them. Her eyes followed Marc as he walked over to Grace with a glass of orange juice, she could just barely hear when he leaned down and whispered into her ear.

“I knew you were going to refuse it if I asked, so I brought it to you anyways.” he placed the glass in her hands and a deep red blush washed over her cheeks. Bryony couldn’t help but notice Marc beam at her reaction and when she took a sip of the juice.

She cleared her throat, reluctantly breaking away the moment “So kids, tell me. How did you two meet?”

Marc groaned and placed his palm over his eyes in embarrassment “Mom, just for the record, we’re not, um... you know... together.”

Bryony’s eyes widened in surprise but she quickly recovered “Oh, well then, sorry dear.”
She shot Grace an apologetic glance “It’s just that Marc here hasn’t officially brought a girl home for almost a billion years so I’m just getting a bit overexcited.”

“You don’t say.” Muttered Marc as he pulled up a stool close to Grace and sat down.
“Marc doesn’t bring girls home?” Grace was oddly taken aback by Bryony’s remark and she couldn’t help but sate her curiosity.

“Hmm... well he does, but usually in groups of say eighty.” Seeing Grace’s confused expression Bryony decided to clear up the matter “He had those silly parties where people get completely drunk and puke all over my prize roses.”

This time it was Marc’s turn to blush and look away, and like before, Bryony couldn’t help but smile at his reaction.

“Ma, I’m pretty sure I didn’t bring Grace here to talk about people puking in your roses.”

“Oh really? Then whatever are we here for?”

Grace laughed and Marc shot his mother a frown but realized that he didn’t really have an answer either. “I dunno, to talk about anything but me.”

“I like talking about you Marc.” Grace piqued boldly.

“See, face it Marc, people love to talk about you.”

Marc shot a frown at his mother that didn’t really reach his eyes. “Fine, you two have a bitch-fest about me in front of my face then.”

“We will, thank you very much, and watch your language. Well then Grace, what do you not like about Marc? It’s all right; you can say whatever you truly feel. He gave us permission to talk about him.”

“Oh...” Grace shifted in her seat and glanced over at Marc whose gaze was intently fixated on her, she swiftly looked away when their eyes met and looked down to take another sip of her juice.

“Well, how about I start then.” Bryony chirped “I really hate it when Marc drinks straight out of the milk carton, I mean, what if he has rabies or something and I became infected? Have you ever considered that?”

Grace let out a small giggle but stifled it when Marc glared at her.

“I only do that cause you always forget to wash the glasses.” He muttered stiffly, trying hard to defend his honor.

“Um... Marc, who am I, your mother? Wash your own glasses!”

“Um... you are my mother.”

“Oh.” Bryony looked defeated but instantly followed up with another ‘what I hate about Marc’ comment. “I really don’t like it when you dress so daggy. I remember when you used to look like such a smart boy with your white shirts and mini ties, now you look like a drug dealer.”

“Ma! You’ve never even seen a drug dealer!”

“Have too! I can assure you that I ‘hit the bong’ quite often.” Bryony replied with her nose in the air and a small upwards tug at the corner of her mouth.

“She does have a point Marc, you wear the same boots every day, and might I remind you, I even got kicked in the head with them.” Grace added, laughing at the mother and son’s odd bantering.

“Really?" Bryony said with a quirked brow "Gosh, I’m not even going ask about that one.”

“Oh C’mon!” Marc wailed “are you guys really gonna gang up on me like that!”

“Yes.” they simultaneously chanted.

“Marc, why don’t we get the family album for Grace to compare the before and after?”

Marc groaned but complied, seeing that commanding glint in his mother’s eyes that usually meant ‘do it or you don’t get dinner’.

As soon as Marc was out of earshot, Bryony instantly looked over at Grace and gave a soft smile “Now I don’t have enough time before that big oaf comes back but I just want you to know that Marc really appreciates your company, he might now say it to you, ever, but Marc needs you. And sometimes what you’re looking for is right in front of you.”

Grace was stunned by Bryony’s remark and she slowly repeated the words in her head, even as Bryony walked out after Marc to find the album.

Sometimes what you’re looking for is right in front of you