These Are the Fast Times

Michael

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Winter

I feel right at home at Melly’s parents’ Christmas party.

Coming from a big family, Melly’s young screaming cousins don’t get to me in the slightest.

Not even when they ask me questions just to hear my answers and giggle at my accent.

“You need braces,” Melly’s six-year-old cousin informs me, and the other two with her giggle. “Do they have braces in Australia?”

“Hey!” Melly interrupts, brushing the kids away from me before I can respond, but all I want to do is laugh. “What did I say about bothering people?” she warns them, and the bravest of the three sticks her tongue out at Melly’s scolding before running off with the rest.

“Sorry,” she says, her expression and tone softening as she turns her attention to me.

“No worries, Mels,” I assure her. “I’ve come to accept my teeth,” I grin and she smiles back helplessly, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek.

“Melanie,” one of her aunts calls her away for the hundredth time tonight. She sighs and gives me an apologetic look before following her aunt into the kitchen.

Her brother Jake comes to sit with me before her little cousins can come and continue to interrogate me again.

“How’s my sister been?” he asks, out of the blue. It’s really eerie how much Melly and Jake look alike but are still complete polar opposites. Aside from the astute sense of bluntness, of course.

“Great,” I respond. “Did she tell you she’s a fulltime sound engineer for a recording studio now?”

“Really?” he asks, with genuine interest. “She mentioned it, but never told me if she went through with it or not.”

“It’s still pretty brand new,” I admit. He nods.

“It’s kind of odd,” he remarks abruptly, glancing around the living room, at his various family members and the commotion the younger ones cause.

“Um…?” I trail off in confusion.

“You know,” he states, waiting for me to get his meaning. Maybe Melly’s right, maybe her brother’s just too smart for people sometimes. “Coming home,” he clarifies. “It’s like…you live here until you’re old enough to talk back and break rules…then you move out, have some adventures, make mistakes…” he continues. “You come back, and you think home is different, because it’s still home, but it isn’t anymore.”

I don’t say anything, and glance at him so he knows I’m listening, but he’s looking off at some point I can’t see. “Most people don’t realize houses stay the same. People change. ‘Home’ is such a loaded word. Too relative,” he concludes decisively.

Suddenly, the kitchen door opens in a flurry, Melly being the cause of disruption. She slips outside without a word or glance at me, so of course I immediately grab our coats from the closet and follow her, leaving Jake to his thoughts.

I finish zipping my jacket as I walk out the door, still carrying hers in hand.

She’s standing at the end of the driveway, hugging herself, arms wrapped around her elbows.

I wordlessly slip her coat onto her shoulders, helping her slide her arms through the sleeves.

“I want to go home,” she sniffs, wiping her eyes. Her face is pink from the wind, so I pull her to my chest, hugging her and resting my face in her hair.

“Let’s say goodbye to your parents first,” I suggest.

“I don’t want to,” she states darkly into the front of my coat.

“We have to,” I try, but she shakes her head and wipes her eyes, pulling away.

“I’d rather not speak to them right now,” she states stubbornly. “I don’t even want to see them.”

“At least you have the option to see them,” I say, not at all meaning to sound bitter, but I realize that’s how it comes out anyway. She stops to look at me in surprise.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s not you,” I reply, shaking my head at myself. “Tell me what happened.” I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I haven’t been home in a year. Sure, I videochat with my siblings all the time, my mum writes me letters, and I get that occasional gruff phone call from my father, but it’s still a strange realization.

“I thought they’d be happy I have a full-time job,” she explains, shaking her head.

“Well, aren’t you happy?” I ask, tugging on her scarf lightly.

“Yes,” she replies.

“Then fuck everyone else,” I answer, and I smile once I see her smile again.

“Even you?” she questions, reaching up to push my hair off my forehead.

“Especially me,” I retort, giving her a suggestively crooked grin before leaning down to press my lips to hers. “Are you sure you don’t want to say goodbye?” I ask again. She pouts. “Not even to Jake?”

“I guess we can say goodbye to Jake,” she relents. “What were you two talking about, anyway?” she says, as we head back up the walkway.

“We were having a deep philosophical discussion,” I invent, and she just shakes her head and smiles at me again. “At least, it might have been. Could’ve just been small talk. I can never really tell with Jake,” I admit. She laughs and I squeeze her hand.

“You can’t make me say goodbye to my parents,” she continues stubbornly, as we approach the front door for the second time tonight.

“Then what would they think of me?” I tease her. “Your dad will never let me marry you if he thinks I don’t have the manners to say a proper goodbye.” She just grins and shakes her head at me before pushing the door open.

“We should go in the summer,” she states, after we leave her parents’ house and have said goodbye to everyone.

“Huh?” I ask, confused.

“To see your family,” she clarifies, linking her arm with mine.

“I’d like that,” I answer thoughtfully.