Melt Your Headaches, Call It Home

"And you want to know what else?"

"What?" I smiled.

"I can fly with my cast one," Ryan said triumphantly.

I was confused, he can actually fly? "What do you mean?"

"Well," he informed me, "You know how I said we couldn't go home because we didn't want to drive two days and I couldn't be on an airplane with my cast?"

"Yeah," I was still slightly confused.

"I was lying," his cheeks tinged slightly pink as he admitted this.

"Really?" I flicked his shoulder and said in a mushy voice, "You just wanted to stay with me longer?"

"Yeah," he smiled and I pecked him on the lips.

We were lying on the grass in the park, having some sort of stupid contest to prove which of us liked the other one more. I'm not really sure what started that. He was lying on his back and I was propped up on my elbows enjoying each other's company and the pleasant sunshine streaming down on us.

Luckily, the horrible weather from yesterday was just some freak thing blown down from Canada and now it feels like summer again. This meant that Ryan and I could escape everyone else for some much needed alone time. Although, knowing our friends, they will find us eventually.

I still haven't asked him about dinner. I should do that soon though, because last time I looked at my phone, it was going on three. I frowned, might as well do it now.

"Is something wrong?" Ryan asked seeing the change in my expression, (from stupid smile to unhappy face.)

"Not really," I sighed, taking the opportunity to shred some grass instead of meeting his eyes.

"No seriously," he said rolling on his side so that when my gaze turned towards his eyes, they met mine.

I sighed, "Well my parents want me to go to their house for dinner tonight…" I grimaced as he looked sympathetic, he doesn't even know the worst, "…and they want me to bring you."

He sucked in a breath so I said quickly, "I don't even want to go. You definitely don't have to go, it's going to end badly anyway."

"But you don't even get along with your parents," Ryan pointed out, he knew all about my relationship with them, "Why do they suddenly want you to come to dinner?"

I thought for a moment, I had been wondering about his myself, "I think it's partly because somehow they discovered that Ben was back in town… and had Sophie. And since my mom gets all those shitty gossip magazines, they've heard all about you and want to shove it all in my face or something."

No matter what, though, tonight is not going to be good.

Ryan rolled on his stomach so that he was mirroring my position, even with his cast, and then took my hands in his, "Do you want me to come?" he asked seriously.

"You'd probably be miserable and my parents will be horrible to you and I –"

He interrupted my babble, "Charlotte, do you want me to come?"

"Yeah," I said in a small voice, "The support would be nice."

"Then, I'll go."

"Thanks," I said and smiled, it couldn't be too bad with Ryan there, "You're the best!"

He smiled back at me and we kissed but broke apart when we heard clapping. We looked over and Jon and Tyler watching us. Jon had a camera. Perverts.

Tyler danced over and lay down next to us, "Jon totally just got two of the most adorable pictures of you," he said in a very fake happy voice.

"Oh shove off," I said pushing his shoulder.

"You guys do look cute," Jon admitted walking closer, scrolling through his stored photos.

"You guys gotta go get ready," said Tyler, taking on a less then happy voice. He knew my parents the most; he's come and gotten from my house as they screamed at each other, meaning they've also screamed at him. My dad even punched him once because they thought we were sleeping together. I tried to get him to press charges, but he wouldn't.

"Go get ready?" Ryan questioned as we stood up.

"You need to brush your hair and change," I informed him.

"But shouldn't they see the real me, I mean, it's not like I'm in sweats."

I looked over his outfit; sure it was acceptable for most things. Meeting the parents though, is not most things.

Tyler gave him a word of advice, "The nicer you look, the less they'll hate you."

"Don't you mean: the more they'll like me?" Ryan asked.

"No. He means the less they'll hate you," I confirmed.

Ryan looked worried. Jon clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Man, I am so glad I'm not you right now."

"Gee thanks Jon, that just made me feel loads better."

"Glad I could help."

------------------------------------------------

I shivered, but not from the cold. I was actually quite warm. I smoothed the front of my skirt down and made sure that my shirt was clean, for the millionth time. Everyone was doing the same.

The four of us were standing on the porch. We have been for five minutes, but nobody actually wants to ring the doorbell. None of us are looking forward to tonight. Who would?

"You guys, this is getting ridiculous. Are we just going to stand here all night?" Sophie said, "Ben, ring the doorbell."

"But –"

"Benjamin," she said warningly.

"Alright," he grumbled and rang the doorbell. He is so whipped.

I held my breath as I heard the lock click and the door swung open to reveal my mother. She didn't look much different than from the last time I saw her, although she did look thinner. She smiled welcoming at everyone and ushered us into the living room, this was probably short lived pretense.

"Excuse me," she said, looking mainly at Sophie, the least offensive one in the room, "While I go get Richard."

I took her absence as a chance to look around the house that I had grown up in. The first this I noticed was that the walls were bare, they had taken down the pictures of Ben and I that used to hang there. Do they honestly dislike their own children that much?

Ryan nudged me and motioned to the coffee table in front of us where a stack of magazines was sitting. They were splayed out so that you could see each cover; Ryan and I were on every single one. I cringed as I caught sight of the Condom Corner picture. I'm sure my mother planted them, even more reason that this night is going to go wrong. I looked at him and we shared a grimace.

We heard footsteps approaching and visibly tensed while Ben and Sophie stopped their hushed conversation. A moment later, my father appeared from the hallway and sat down on the couch opposite us. He set down his beer on a coaster on the table with an audible clunk. Ryan winced. I felt bad; it must remind him of his dad. At least he isn't drunk… yet.

My mother came in and sat next to him, crossing her legs. They both looked expectantly at us before Ryan got up the courage to introduce himself; he stood up and offered his hand to my dad, "Mr. Labelle, I'm Ryan Ross."

My dad also stood, "Call me Richard," and firmly shook his hand, suspiciously judging him. I thought Ryan was dressed fairly inconspicuously, especially considering his normal style. He had a pair of black jeans on and a nice shirt with one of Ben's smaller light-weight jackets to cover his cast. We didn't think it would be a good idea for my parents to read what was written on it, because even though it was fading you could still catch the gist of the scribbles.

He made a motion towards my mom, "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Labelle."

"It's Linda," she said, also standing to shake his hand.

As soon as Ryan sat down, Ben stood and a whole new set of introductions was made, this time revolving around Sophie. My parents took much more to her, especially since she was from England. They asked her all of these questions about where she was from, leaving Ryan and I sitting silently, awkward.

When they finally had the courtesy to acknowledge that we were indeed also sitting there, my dad's first question to Ryan was, "Where are you from?"

When Ryan said in a firm voice, "Las Vegas," I could tell things were already starting to go wrong.

Both of their faces showed the slight hint of a frown, and I knew the next question,("What do you do for a living?") wouldn't go and better because 1: they already knew the answer, and 2: it's not exactly the "right" job.

So when Ryan answered, "I'm in a band," I wasn't surprised in the least when the frowns became visible.

Then my father asked bluntly, "How successful are you?"

"Well," Ryan said tactfully, "Our sophomore album, which came out a few months ago, debuted at number two on the charts in couple countries, including the US. We were also able to record that album at Abbey Roads, which is where the Beatles –"

"Recorded, yes, I know," my dad said interrupting him. Score one for Ryan, my dad loves the Beatles.

A small ding was heard from within the kitchen and my mother jumped up, "That must be the chicken," she turned to me, "Charlotte can you come help me in the kitchen?" Oh. Dear.

"I'll help too," Sophie said. Thank you.

"Oh no, I couldn't ask you, you're a guest." And I'm not?

"I insist," Sophie said smiling, following Mom into the kitchen.

As I left the room, Dad offered Ryan a beer, but he politely declined, saying, "No, thank you. My father was an alcoholic so I'm trying to stay away from that." I couldn't help but smile, score two for Ryan!

When I walked into the kitchen, Sophie was already busy cutting up some vegetables while my mom was standing and waiting for me expectantly. She was holding a small box with ribbon on it. "Here," she said handing it to me.

I gingerly took it from her hands and pulled apart the bow and opened the box. A small gift card was sitting on a small square of tissue paper. It was to a music store. "I know how much you love that piano."

I looked at her, actually touched by her genuine gesture. I didn't want to tell her about what happened to the piano though, so I didn't.

"Thank you," I said, giving her a small smile. Maybe Ben was right, maybe they have changed.

She handed me some lettuce and as I washed it, she asked me, "Did you do anything for your birthday?"

"Ryan threw me a surprise party."

"And was that nice?"

I looked at her, but her intentions seemed good so I answered, but cautiously, "Yeah. I was a lot more than I expected. I had a lot of fun."

"I'm sure you did," she replied, her voice taking on a strained tone.

I was confused, "Mom, what's –"

"How many times have you disgraced yourself with him?" she said in a calm, cold voice.

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, "I don't know what you mean," I answered, purposely ignoring her intention.

She turned and faced me, "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"I don't," I insisted, "But feel free to inform me."

"Sophie," my mother said in a much sweeter voice, "Could you please excuse us." She looked at me, but I nodded. As she left the room she looked worriedly at me.

Now that she was gone, my mother talked in a much nastier tone, "So are you his slut?"

"What?" I struggled to keep the volume of my voice down.

"What else could I expect from someone like him," my mom hissed, "I expect he only wants one thing from you, and he's getting it. That's why he's staying around."

I was furious, my hands were actually shaking with anger, but I refused to lose control, "I have not had sex with him once. How dare you accuse him… and me of being like that! You don't know him and you don't know me anymore, and that's your fault."

"Do you expect me to believe that when there are things like this out there?" She whipped out the picture of us in front of the "Condom Corner" and the one of us taken two days ago. They were both as bad as I thought they would be.

"You don't know the circumstances," I growled.

"I don't need to," she contradicted me, "when I can see them printed in magazines. I knew you walked out on us, but I didn't know that you lost all sense of you morality and -"

"Do not bring that up!" I said, my voice rising in volume, "That has nothing to do with now!" She was referring to when I told her that I would not be going to church anymore. She called me a whore.

"The chicken is ready," she said, switching tactics, "Go put it on the table."

"No. You do it."

"My God, Charlotte, would it kill you to act your age for once?" she said snidely and brushed past me. I stood there, shocked at the turn of events as my mother called everyone to the dining room. It was all a plan.

Ryan came through the kitchen. He was worried, "Are you ok?"

"No," I said shortly, "but I'll deal."

He grabbed my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. We walked into the dining room.

I had just started on my green beans when it happened. My father had just finished one of his many beers and had sent my mother to the garage to get another one. We all stopped the awkward conversation about how good the food was, as Ben asked quietly, "How many is that, Dad?"

"You don't worry about that," he replied curtly.

"Maybe you should just have a –" Ben tried

"I'll have another beer," my father said warningly.

"I just think that –"

"Do not tell me to do in my own house, Benjamin." My father's voice was rising and growing rougher. That was not a good sign.

"Yeah well maybe you shouldn't get drunk when you invite people over for dinner," Ben said coldly.

"Benjamin," my mother gasped standing in the doorway.

My brother ignored her, they've pushed him past the limit, and he's going to do a me and explode at them. Why did he have to pick now?

"It's just one night out of your damn week and you could stay fucking sober. You sicken me."

Sophie put a softening hand on Ben's arm, "Maybe we should go." He didn't shrug her off, but ignored her.

His voice never rose in volume but I could tell how angry he was, "Why do you two always have to be so horrible? This dinner could have been so easy, but you have to go and ruin it."

"Don't put all the blame on –" my mother started.

I felt like I was feeling déjà vu when he turned to her, "I heard you in the kitchen. We all heard you, practically calling Charlotte a whore, so don't you try the innocent act, Mom."

The table was silent, nobody had anything to say. Then again, what would we say?

I stood up, shortly followed by everyone else, and hurried out the door. We jumped in the car and Ben drove as fast as he could, like we could escape what had just happened. When we pulled into our apartment building's garage, I realized that I hadn't even bothered going through the kitchen to pick up my birthday present, but at this point, I didn't want anything from them.

I didn't need them.

Hell, I wanted them, but they just wouldn't have me.