I Keep on Running

I sighed heavily, waiting for my parents to come over for their usual lunch while they knew Jorel wouldn’t be home. During his short tours is when they would visit, but what they didn’t know was that he was home earlier than expected- they all were. I rubbed my stomach lightly as Jorel’s comforting arm wrapped around my shoulders, giving my left one a tight squeeze. I looked up at him, seeing a smile grazing his full lips. “Don’t be nervous- what’s the worst they could possibly do? You’re their only daughter,” he tries reasoning with me.
I shake my head, “Jorel… You know they… Don’t really like you as much as they should,” I mumble, “Being pregnant by you sure isn’t going to help,” I whisper the last part, even though he most likely caught it.
He nods, “I know. But maybe they’ll think otherwise for a little while. Who knows?”
I shrug lightly, resting my head on his chest while we waited for them to come knocking.

My stomach was churning; I felt like I was going to throw up at any second, just imagining their reactions. Truth was I didn’t know what they would do, but I feared the worst of it. For all I know, they could force me to abort it…

The sudden knocks at the front door cause me to jump out of my skin and my heart to accelerate more than it already was doing. I stood, ripping myself from his strong grasp, and straightened out my outfit for the day. I gulped as I walked out of the living room and towards the door, hesitantly opening it. “Mom, Daddy,” I smile at them, to which they returned as we hugged.
“We brought the egg salad you asked for, honey,” my mother starts after shooting me a quizzical look, “Although I don’t remember you liking egg salad before, when you were growing up.”
I felt my body tense up at what she said- but I ignored it and invited them in with a thank you anyways. We made our way into the kitchen, seeing Jorel already sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee. He had placed the sandwiches I prepared for us in the middle. My mind told me to freeze, but I acted nothing of it- I went and sat down next to him, as my parents just stood there awkwardly, looking at me. “Mr. and Mrs. Carter,” he nods towards them nonchalantly.

“Jorel came home from his tour early- his whole band did, actually,” I begin, standing up after a moment of silence. I made my way over to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup, “Would you guys like some coffee?”
They nodded at my first statement, “Please and thank you,” my father said while my mom shook her head ‘no’.
As instructed, I made my father a cup and handed it to him after I grabbed several plates and forks, placing them on the table. I sat back down next to J, sipping at my beverage as the awkwardness continued to fill the air. “Please, sit down,” I say to them.
They did after a moment, making sure to not be too close to my boyfriend. I sighed to myself quietly- I didn’t expect them to act as stiff as they were. It was actually pissing me off; he wasn’t a bad guy, they just thought he was. I took the egg salad they brought and slapped some on my plate before handing it off to J, who placed some on his. After we both placed a sandwich on our plates, he passed the salad back to my mother, who forced a smile at him as she took it. I shook my head, picking up my fork and stared at my food while I ate it a bit quickly. I felt Jorel place his left hand on my right thigh, his thumb rubbing the outer side of it. I looked up at him and smiled without showing my teeth, which he returned. “I love you,” he muttered under his breath.
“I love you, too,” I whisper back to him.

“So,” my father cleared his throat, “When did you start liking egg salad?”
Apparently that was going to be the topic of today. “Um… A few months ago,” I say honestly.
He nodded as he ate more off his plate. I brought my own attention back to my food, my hunger taking over my actions. I felt like I was stuffing my face, as I scooped out more of the food and threw it on my plate again. “How’s the rocks-star life, Jorel?” he asks him.
I inwardly groan as J chuckles besides me, rubbing my leg again. He wasn’t one to start good conversations, especially with people he doesn’t exactly like. “It’s all good. I’m living my life,” he answers.
“Being good to my daughter?” he cracks a smirk at him, while pointing his fork at him.
“Yes, Daddy,” I tell him, a nervous laugh slipping out of me.
He nods, “Good. I’ll kill’em if he ever hurt you,” he laughs, trying to be funny.
We all laugh along with him, I think trying to play a show with each other, which was kind of sad.
The conversation drops again, and the tension in the room is pulled extremely tight once more. While I made sure my parents weren’t paying attention, I shoot J a look. ‘Should I tell them?’ I mouth to him.
He nods. I roll my eyes. ‘How do I tell them?’
He shrugs, ‘Just blurt it out.’
I shake my head and roll my eyes again at him. ‘Are you fucking stupid?’
A smirk plays at his lips as he nods. I couldn’t help but giggle, having my parents look at me again. I clear my throat, straightening my posture a little bit as I look at them. “Mom, Dad… I- We have something to say.” I start off- it honestly felt like my heart was in my throat at this point.

“What is it, hon?” my mother asks, urging me to go on.
I take Jorel’s hand in my own, before I placed it on my stomach, even if they couldn’t see it over the table- it just made me feel slightly more confident. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I had no idea how they were going to react- I knew they didn’t like him, but they never gave me an answer as to why. Licking my bottom lip, I suck it into my mouth and chew on it, plotting it all out in my head one more time. Jorel’s hand lightly rubs my stomach, urging me to go on…
“Is everything okay?” my father asks.
I nod, but I don’t look at him. A few more minutes pass before I actually look at them. I sigh, “I’m pregnant.”
I feel myself cringe inwardly as my dad nearly choked on his coffee and my mother just freezes; her eyes just fixed into mine. I can see that she wasn’t happy- she was pissed, with fire raging in her hazel eyes. I never pulled my gaze away, though, just waiting for them to say something.

“Excuse me?” she finally says, a little harsh. “Did you say you were pregnant?” I nodded shyly. “With his baby?” she asks again, a tone of disgust lacing her voice.
I nod once more, feeling the tears already beginning to well in my eyes, knowing that she didn’t approve. “Congratulations,” she spits out, “I always knew that you’d disappoint me one of these days.”
With that, she stands, throwing the napkin she had on her lap onto the table and walking out of the kitchen. “Mrs. Carter- did you just tell your own daughter that she was a disappointment?” Jorel snaps back at her, standing up and following after her.
I try grabbing for his arm, but I was too slow. By now, I had tears streaming down my cheeks. My father clears his throat, having me look at him. He just shakes his head at me. “I thought we raised you better than that,” he says, before he too stood. “To get yourself pregnant before you’re married isn’t anything to be proud of,” he continues, “Not to mention, finding a “man” that would gladly scold his “woman’s” mother… I am not happy.”
“But Daddy, she… I love him…”
“What could you possibly love in a human being that has holes the size of quarters in his ears, tattoos running up and down his body, and has the intelligence of a squirrel? Not to mention, no respect for your mother.”
Instantly, something inside me snaps- I was no longer upset, but extremely pissed off that he had to bring up Jorel’s appearance into the situation. After all, my father was the one who taught me to never judge a book by its cover, which is exactly what he had just done. “Excuse me?” I snap at him, “Just because Jorel has tattoos and gauges doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a bad guy. You of all people should know that,” I glare at his rolled up sleeves, revealing his inked up arm. “He is a sweet guy, and that ‘disrespect’ he has towards Mom, is him defending me.”

His eyebrows rise as he takes in what I just said, before his eyes slide down to his arm. Realization just hit him, and he slowly pulls his sleeve back down to cover up all the colors he had on his arm. I stand my ground, just glaring daggers at my father for saying such a hypocritical thing. “Well, I uh…,” he pauses for a moment. “He’s not right for you, sweetie,” he says softly, as if trying to persuade me.
“Sweet talk isn’t changing a damn thing, Dad. Why do you honestly think he’s not right for me?”
“He’s dirty. He’s a bad influence- always drinking and partying-”
At this point, I push back my chair hastily, “You shut the fuck up! Jorel is not a bad influence. Sure, he has his drinks every now and then, but guess what! So do I- so do you, so does Mom. As for partying-”

Slap.

I hold my now stinging left cheek, tears starting to pour down from my eyes again. I glare up at him through my bangs, as he just stands there, hands balled into fists, his body trembling with anger. Never has he hit me before. I sit back down suddenly, biting on my bottom lip again to stop myself from crying out- to stop myself from showing weakness. “Don’t you dare talk to me in that kind of tone again, young lady!” he screams at me, the vein in his neck bulging. “Do you understand me?!”
I don’t say a damn word, I just stare at him. Jorel walks back into the kitchen now, followed by my mother. He looks at me, questioning me with his eyes, wondering what had just happened. He goes to say something, but my father cuts him off. “Do you understand me?” he asks again.
I take my hand away from my face, and stand back up, my own hands balled up into fists. My arms are trembling, my throat was burning from holding back my sobs, and my stomach was churning even more than it was at the beginning of all this. “No. Fuck you!” I scream at him.
He raises his arm, and whips me across the face again; bringing me back down onto the chair I was previously in.
Jorel reacts instantly, grabbing my dad’s shoulder and spinning him around, getting all in his face. “Did you just fucking slap her?! Your own fucking daughter, my girlfriend, right in front of me?” He spits in his face. J’s face was bright red, with anger surging through his body.
Dad stays quiet, just eyeing him. He grabs my father by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close, “Get the fuck out of my house! I hope to never see your fucking face again.”

My dad swings his arm and punches him right in the jaw, throwing J off balance for a second. Jorel reacts instantly, shoving him into the shelf directly behind my father, having glasses fall and shatter on the floor. He brings his arm back, and socks him in the nose once before tugging him away from the shelf and shoving him into the front hall. “Get out! And like I said before, I hope to never see your fucking face again, or you’ll regret it, after hitting me and especially Payton.”

Something poked me in the shoulder- I ignored it. The poke turned into a slight shake, and I breathed in heavily before I rolled over. “Payton, wake up,” Jorel’s voice funneled its way into my ears.
I peeked open an eye, seeing his face right in front of mine. His facial expression was not a happy one, I noted, and the attitude in his voice was clearly audible. “What’s wrong?” I mumbled, still half asleep.
His normally bright brown eyes were nothing but dark, and he had a permanent scowl etched into his face. “Your parents are here,” he snarled. “What for, I don’t fucking know. I told them to never come back almost a fucking year ago, and they seem to have forgotten,” he backs away and heads towards the bathroom connected to our room before adding on, “Or, they just didn’t believe my threat.”
I sigh, not wanting to get out of bed. Instantly, I’m reminded of the last time they came here. The pain comes back, almost as if I were slapped again. A tear rolls down my cheek, and I just wrap myself deeper in my blankets, hoping to never come back out. Jorel walks back in, “Are you going to see them?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to get slapped again,” I whisper.
His face falls as he makes his way towards me, kneeling in front of me. “He will not so much as touch you, if I have anything to do with it.”
I nod.
“Don’t cry,” he whispers, wiping away a stray tear. “Come and say hello to them.”
I shake my head again. “No.”