Textbook Romance

We sat next to each other on the couch. Max sat with his left leg crossed over his right, his foot parallel to the ground as his shin rested on his knee. He tapped his right foot to the silent music playing in his head as he held my hand in his lap.

I gnawed on my lip nervously as my mother took a really long time in the kitchen to get our "drinks". I could only imagine that she'd called my father at work to rant about how her only daughter showed up on their doorstep with a man who was legally able to drink, and had been for five years.

"What's taking so long?" I asked rhetorically.

Max leaned down so that his nose was pressed against my cheek. "Relax, Nev," he murmured comfortingly, "She's probably having a heart attack or something."

"That's not funny," I muttered, jabbing my elbow into his side softly, "It's going to be really awkward when she comes back."

Max shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not really an awkward person, Nev. I'm just going to stay quiet. I'm here if you need me though."

I smiled gratefully as Max leaned back against the couch again. "Thanks," I murmured after a minute. Max nodded his head in reply and rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand in a soothing pattern.

"Your father is on his way home," my mother said as she appeared from the dining room, the wireless home phone clutched in her shaking hands, "I thought he'd like to see you."

I nodded my head. "I figured you'd call him."

My mom nodded too and licked her lips. She moved to sit on the love seat on the other side of the coffee table. I smiled politely to try and keep her calm since she'd gotten both nervous and irrational once again. It was moods like these that drove me off in the first place.

"How have you been, Mom?" I questioned, turning Max's ring around and around on his finger.

She nodded again. "Fine, Ginny, I've been just fine."

"That's good," I stated, wondering what else there was to say since she was contributing very much to the conversation.

It was another awkward minute before she asked, "How have you been? Are you eating? You look awfully thin."

I shook my head. "I'm eating just fine, Mom. The guys take good care of me."

She frowned at my choice of words. "Weren't you working?"

"Yes," I said simply, "But I work for Max's band. They're extra generous. They give me a little extra on my pay check, they let me sleep on their bus instead of the roadie bus, and most of the time I'm not even allowed to buy my own meals." There was a smile on my face as I talked about Max and the guys. Max was smiling too as I talked so kindly of them to my mother.

Yet my mother was still frowning as I quieted down. Her expression confused me. The happiness on my face didn't make her happy like it would for most mothers. Instead, she was worrying about my irresponsibility.

"What's wrong?" I questioned quietly, the smile slipping from my lips.

"Nothing," mom replied right away. Then she glanced up at Max and I knew it was something to do with him. Her thoughts were running ragged in her mind.

"They're all good to me, Mom," I told her, "Honest. These guys are becoming some of my best friends."

I could see the questions swimming in my mom's dark eyes. There was so much that she wanted to know, but whether it her anger or her doubt that kept her from asking, I didn't know. She set the phone down on the small end table next to her and folded her hands in her lap. She didn't look up to Max and I as she asked, "What happened with you and the other man?"

There it was. The question she'd been wondering was floating around the room and making everyone feel interrogated. I shrugged my shoulders. "I wasn't ready for that relationship," I told her, somewhat quoting the words that Neil had used the last time we fought.

"You're too young," she concluded from my sentence.

"No, Mom," I said, "That wasn't it. I just wasn't ready to date. I took too many large steps at one time and I had to give one up. I chose my job." Max knew that wasn't the whole truth. I didn't "give up" Neil because of my job. I ended it with Neil because he assumed too much of me, thought of me as a child, and was always there to "protect" me, even when I just wanted someone there to hold me.

My father came barreling through the garage door soon after that. His office was only a few blocks away. When he came through the door, his eyes grew wide, not at the sight of Max (like my mother's had) but at the sight of me.

"Ginny," he sighed, "You're here."

My father had never been the one to vocalize his dislike about my tattoos and attitude. He'd much rather let my mother yell about those type of "problems".

"Yeah," I nodded,"We were in the area." When I looked up to his face his eyes were on Max. Neil had always bothered my mother immensely, but he was the only thing that riled up my father. It was the "little princess" syndrome where fathers never thought any man was good enough. But the age difference between Neil and I had caused the strain to multiply, and with Max sitting on his couch, I knew my father was going to have a problem with him too.

"Dad," I said, "This is Max."

Max stood up and offered his hand.

"Hello," my dad said coldly as he shook Max's tattooed hand.

I reached up and grabbed Max's hand when they were done so I could pull him back down next to me. My father joined my mom on the love seat. They sat as far from each other as the small couch would allow.

"What are you actually doing here, Ginevra?"

"I already told you, Mom, I just wanted to put the past behind us," I said simply. I bit my lip as my mother soaked in my answer, obviously not liking it.

She folded her hands in her lap. "Does that mean an apology?"

I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. "It depends," I replied.

Mom pursed her lips and shifted in her seat. "Why don't you help me with those drinks," she suggested, getting to her feet. She waited, looking at me pointedly.

I looked to Max's face, silently asking him if he'd be fine with my dad. He squeezed my hand tightly before spreading his fingers out so that I could pull my hand out of his.

I stood up and followed my mom as she started towards the kitchen. I glanced over my shoulder at Max as my father started talking to him.

"Dad's not going to slaughter him, is he?" I asked my mother when we walked into the kitchen.

"How dare you bring him here," Mom growled as she pivoted around to face me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, "He's not here for you, Mom, he's here for me. Why does it matter if he's here or not?"

"Are you sleeping with him?" she asked quickly, "Is that how you got your job?"

"What?" I asked slowly, confused, "What are you talking about, Mom?"

"You're dating your boss, Ginevra, you brought him to my house," she stated, anger radiating off of her.

I stood a step back and shook my head. "You don't know what you're talking about. I did not sleep with anyone!"

My mother tucked her light hair behind her ears and shook her head. "That other boy got you this job and when he broke up with you, you found some way to keep it," she speculated. She looked at me like I was never part of her. Like I was the worst person she'd ever seen.

She had always been like this. Once she got an idea in her head, it wouldn't leave her and she never considered that she was wrong.

"It's not even like that, Mom," I said, shaking my head as she did the same, "Max is a good guy. He's..." I trailed off. How was I supposed to explain what was going on between us without giving it labels. "He's good to me," I continued, "And I've never slept with him." The tone of my voice was strong and if were anyone else except my mom, they would believe every word.

But it was my mom. She had seen Max, his appearance, and she had seen a change in me that could only be explained to be his and Neil's fault. In my mother's eyes, nothing was of my own doing.

"Mom," I said softly, causing her to look back to me. When her eyes finally met mine, I spoke, "I'm going to be completely honest with you."

She nodded once.

"Neil and I, we weren't working out well. I don't know how to explain what happened, but right now, I'm not with him." I played with my fingers as I spoke. My eyes scanned the kitchen, taking in the tiled walls, granite counters, and stainless steel everything. Then I continued, "I don't know what I want, Mom," I said simply, honestly, "But I met Max and he was just... unbearable." I chuckled, a small smile on my lips. "Then I got to know him and he's completely different than his first impression."

My mother sighed. "So you think you love him," she stated, condescending in a way that shot down all hopes of her ever understanding.

But I just shook my head and tucked my hands into the pockets of my jeans. "No, Mom," I murmured, "I don't love him. Not like that, not yet."

"But you want to," she said, not really a question, but she wanted an answer anyways.

I fiddled with the zipper of my jacket. I didn't know how to answer that. I liked being with Max, spending time with him. He was the one I brought with me for support. Sure, Craig would've done the same job, but I asked Max to come with me.

"I don't know yet, Mom," I said honestly, biting my lip and tugging on the edge of my jacket.

"How old is he?" she asked then, the question popping back into her head as she realized there was something between Max and I, something that was entirely impossible to define.

I sighed and let my shoulders drop. "Does it really matter?" I asked, closing my eyes for a second as I pushed my hair out of my face.

"How old?" she asked again.

I shoved my hands in the pocket of my jacket. "I'm an adult," I said, "I can make my own decisions."

"Then stop acting like a child and answer my questions, Ginevra."

"Twenty seven," I said.

"And you think you're mature enough to date a man eight years older than you?" she asked darkly, taking a small step towards me, "Because, Ginevra, no matter how many tattoos you put on your body, how many times you try to put your indiscretions behind you, you're still a child."

I shook my head. "That's where you're wrong," I stated, "I'm not a child anymore. I'm trying to be adult, Mom, but you make it so difficult to be anything except what you want me to be." I wrung my hands and tried to keep the snarl off of my lips. "I'm sorry you didn't get a single perfect child, but Leo and I are who we are. Maybe if you would've accepted him instead of trying to change him, he'd still be here."

The look on my mom's face changed from that of anger to an expression of shock. No one had ever blamed her for Leo's death. She never realized that her expectations of him were the problem.

"It is not my fault that Leo died, Ginevra, don't you dare put that on me!" she said fiercely, shaking her head. "Leo was weak, he couldn't overcome his addictions and he died. That is not my fault."

"I'm done talking about this," I said, "I'm doing the thing that Leo didn't, I'm telling you right now that I'm making my own decisions in life and if you don't like it, then you can take yourself out of my life." I ran my fingers through my hair and spoke again, "But I'm not kicking you out of my life this time. It's your choice. I just want you to know that I'm going to be with who I want to be with."

Mom nodded. "Very well."

"That's all you have to say?"

Mom pushed her hair behind her ear and then crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you want me to say, Ginny?"

"Honestly?" I asked, crossing my arms too, "I want you to be okay with me."

When my Mom didn't reply, I rolled my eyes and turned around to go back into the living room. Once again there were no drinks for us to have.

Max looked up to me, seemingly in the middle of a conversation with my dad. That made me more nervous than anything else that could happen today. When I got close enough to the couch Max offered me a half-smile and reached out for my hand. I took his and he pulled me down onto the couch next to him.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, his face buried in my hair as he whispered in my ear.

I shrugged my shoulders against him. "I guess so."

"Max and I were just talking about his career choices," my father said sternly, attempting to draw my attention from Max to him.

"And what is your conclusion?" I asked sarcastically, scowling as my mother reentered the room and sat across from us.

My father straightened the cuffs of his shirt and sat up slightly straighter. "It's very interesting," he said slowly, not bothering to make eye-contact with anyone.

"Yeah, it is," I agreed, "It's amazing to see the bands on stage."

My father grunted and my mom rested her hands in her lap. It felt good to talk to them, even though they weren't thrilled, they still bothered to listen. And I really surprised at the fact that my father hadn't tried to hurt or insult Max yet. But there was still time for my mom to tell him how old he was, and that would be another disaster.