Status: On-going
Because I'm Here
Date Night
The date didn’t go as well as planned, right off the map of “planned” actually. I was primped up and ready, my newly washed scarlet hair carefully curled and a smudge of make-up here and there to make myself more presentable than candy-counter gas station presentable. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying too hard...but I was. I had on a nice, dusty rose colored skirt and a crisp, clean white top on, but my shoes only came in the form of galoshes for outdoor wokring and a pair of bright red converses. So I slipped on my dirty red high-tops and prayed that he wouldn’t mind too much. I mean, I went to church with these shoes on, so if God didn’t mind, I’m sure he wouldn’t either.
I was waiting with my dad—only because he insisted—out on the front porch when Tomas pulled up in his shiny red convertable and his perfectly ironed dress-shirt. I think I was ready to faint from being so nervous. But my mother, on the other hand, was nibbling on her perfect clean nails so loudly, she could be heard all the way from the kitchen.
My dad eyed him suspiciously as Tomas made his way nervously out of the car and up the gravel driveway. He was breathing deeply and had on the most determined look ever, with his eyebrows turned inwards and his teeth clenched a little too tightly. He walked up to the porch with his hands tight at his sides and gracefully tripped on one of the loose steps. After landing awkwardly into my arms, he straightened up hurridly with a lot of throat clearing and shirt pulling, and flashed me a wheezy shy smile. “H-hey, Gemma,” he muttered, his cheeks turning bright red and his cloudy gray eyes glancing frevently at my dad.
My dad looked him up and down like he was a piece of meat. Then looked him up and down again like he was a piece of rotten meat. “Aren’t you the mayor’s son?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir,” Tomas answered as calmly as possible, but I knew he was scared and upset, because his voice had dropped an octave.
“Well tell your dad that Karl says ‘hey’.” I was actually surprised. For all the hostility my dad was giving off, he sounded quite civilized. But it still seemed like he hated Tomas for some reason, and I didn’t like that I wasn’t aware of the reason. Tomas was also obviously still very uncomfortable under my dad’s glare. He shifted a bit to the side and I nudged his arm, trying to usher him back down the stairs, when my mom finally decided to make her grand appearance.
“Good to meet you, Tomas. I’m Mrs. Higley. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you,” she gushed at him, slyly pushing my dad to the side and into the direction of the door. He took his cue, and slid into the house, but not before giving Tomas a final look. A look that said ‘don’t you mess with my daughter’. “I’m so glad that you asked my daughter out,” she sighed out. Her tone of voice said that I didn’t get out asked very often. Which was true, but it would have been nicer if she used a tone that said that she was glad he of all people asked her out and not another junkie hipster.
Tomas smiled warmly and said, “No problem, ma’am.”
“Why don’t you come inside, Tomas?” she suddenly asked.
I about panicked at that point (this exchange of parent meet daughter’s choice of man was getting a little too long for my liking), so I took the initiative to decline for him and said, “We better get going, Tomas. The movie’s going to start soon.” I grabbed one of his arms and roughly began to push him down the stairs.
“Oh, really, hon. Why don’t the two of you come in first? I made blueberry pie!” she called out behind me.
“No, we’re okay without that, Mom!” I shouted over my shoulder. “Hurry,” I whispered to Tomas, “before she brings out the pie.”
He opened the door for me before I could push him to the driver’s side and said, “I haven’t even had the chance to at least pretend to be a gentleman.”
“Right, sorry,” I apologized hurriedly. I could hear the screen door swinging shut and imagined my mom scuttling out with a sweet-smelling pie balanced in her hands behind us. I felt a little bad, to run off like that when my mom had so painstakingly labored over that pie to make it perfect for Tomas, but I’m more than sure it was just a tool to get me going. Besides, by the time Tomas had revved up the engine and we were finally on the road, my dad was probably chiding my mom already for being so clingy when it came to my relationships, or what few of them there were. She’d be occupied.
I was waiting with my dad—only because he insisted—out on the front porch when Tomas pulled up in his shiny red convertable and his perfectly ironed dress-shirt. I think I was ready to faint from being so nervous. But my mother, on the other hand, was nibbling on her perfect clean nails so loudly, she could be heard all the way from the kitchen.
My dad eyed him suspiciously as Tomas made his way nervously out of the car and up the gravel driveway. He was breathing deeply and had on the most determined look ever, with his eyebrows turned inwards and his teeth clenched a little too tightly. He walked up to the porch with his hands tight at his sides and gracefully tripped on one of the loose steps. After landing awkwardly into my arms, he straightened up hurridly with a lot of throat clearing and shirt pulling, and flashed me a wheezy shy smile. “H-hey, Gemma,” he muttered, his cheeks turning bright red and his cloudy gray eyes glancing frevently at my dad.
My dad looked him up and down like he was a piece of meat. Then looked him up and down again like he was a piece of rotten meat. “Aren’t you the mayor’s son?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir,” Tomas answered as calmly as possible, but I knew he was scared and upset, because his voice had dropped an octave.
“Well tell your dad that Karl says ‘hey’.” I was actually surprised. For all the hostility my dad was giving off, he sounded quite civilized. But it still seemed like he hated Tomas for some reason, and I didn’t like that I wasn’t aware of the reason. Tomas was also obviously still very uncomfortable under my dad’s glare. He shifted a bit to the side and I nudged his arm, trying to usher him back down the stairs, when my mom finally decided to make her grand appearance.
“Good to meet you, Tomas. I’m Mrs. Higley. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you,” she gushed at him, slyly pushing my dad to the side and into the direction of the door. He took his cue, and slid into the house, but not before giving Tomas a final look. A look that said ‘don’t you mess with my daughter’. “I’m so glad that you asked my daughter out,” she sighed out. Her tone of voice said that I didn’t get out asked very often. Which was true, but it would have been nicer if she used a tone that said that she was glad he of all people asked her out and not another junkie hipster.
Tomas smiled warmly and said, “No problem, ma’am.”
“Why don’t you come inside, Tomas?” she suddenly asked.
I about panicked at that point (this exchange of parent meet daughter’s choice of man was getting a little too long for my liking), so I took the initiative to decline for him and said, “We better get going, Tomas. The movie’s going to start soon.” I grabbed one of his arms and roughly began to push him down the stairs.
“Oh, really, hon. Why don’t the two of you come in first? I made blueberry pie!” she called out behind me.
“No, we’re okay without that, Mom!” I shouted over my shoulder. “Hurry,” I whispered to Tomas, “before she brings out the pie.”
He opened the door for me before I could push him to the driver’s side and said, “I haven’t even had the chance to at least pretend to be a gentleman.”
“Right, sorry,” I apologized hurriedly. I could hear the screen door swinging shut and imagined my mom scuttling out with a sweet-smelling pie balanced in her hands behind us. I felt a little bad, to run off like that when my mom had so painstakingly labored over that pie to make it perfect for Tomas, but I’m more than sure it was just a tool to get me going. Besides, by the time Tomas had revved up the engine and we were finally on the road, my dad was probably chiding my mom already for being so clingy when it came to my relationships, or what few of them there were. She’d be occupied.